Behold, The Little Mermodel

Something called the World Go Topless Parade happened in Venice Beach, CA on Sunday and when you throw an event in L.A. with the word “topless” in it, you can expect international supermodel and timeless beauty Phoebe Price to magically drop from the sky and grace it with her gorgeous presence. An event with the word “topless” in it is her bat signal.

After Chicken Cutlets became a living floral float of ginger perfection in the World Go Topless Parade, she gave a WORLD EXCLUSIVE photo shoot to the paparazzo she called. Ron Howard probably wishes he would’ve waited 30 years to make Splash, because Daryl Hannah truly can’t hold a candle, match, lighthouse, etc to PP as a mermaid. While working elegant mermaid bell bottoms and a 99 Cent Store plastic shell bra (or maybe those are paper plates she pulled out of a trash can), PP gave the camera some Chicken Cutlets of the Sea demureness. You can’t tell from these pictures, but several ships crashed into sandbars that day, because PP’s ethereal mermaid beauty lured the sailors in.

If Disney ever gets around to making the live-action Little Mermaid, they have found their star!  Although, they’ll have to add a scene that explains why Ariel licks all the thingamabobs in her cave like they’re peens and why she has a pap following her around instead of a crab.

Here’s more pictures of PP displaying beach beauty and split freckled ass cakes.

Pics: Wenn.com

Open Post: Hosted By Phoebe Price’s Very Demure Lunch Ensemble

If you tried to go to dinner at a restaurant in L.A. last night and were told that the place was closed temporarily due to a massive flood of jizz, coochie slobber, nipple nectar and drool, you now know why. Phoebe Price had lunch at that same restaurant and caused dozens of peens, chochas, nipples and mouths to leak when she opened up her blazer and revealed her freckled cornish game hen chichis stuffed into an extremely sophisticated pasties bra thing. This look is very “Madonna in the Express Yourself video” meets five hundred layers of extra pure elegance.

In the past month alone, Chicken Cutlets has posed on the street with her nalgas out and has almost flashed her precious vagine in a Comic-Con photo shoot. So we’re probably just a few days away from her going full modest by posing naked and spread-eagle in front of a Pinkberry. The earth’s core will melt from the understated beauty of it all.

And someone should really call the ASPCA on PP, because it’s obvious that her dog Henry is almost suffering from heatstroke from being hit with the rays of hotness that are shooting off of her body. It’s like lying on the sun, if the sun smelled like grilled chicken, foundation and freshly bloomed ginger roses.

I also threw in pictures from this morning of the Queen of the Ho stroll meeting the former Jokers of the Ho Stroll, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt. It is so charitable of PP to share her ho stroll photo shoots with those less famous than her. St. Chicken Cutlets, she is.

Pics: Splash, Wenn.com

Site Announcement And Open Post: Hosted By Phoebe Price At IHOP

Starting today, I’m going to take over the weekdays by myself and my partner in fuckery Allison will cover the weekends. So yeah, since every weekday post is coming from me, expect the spelling and grammar errors on Monday thru Friday posts to grow by 100%  if I’m sober and by 200% if I’m stoned. (Or is it the other way around?) Allison will be weekends only, because she wants to spend her weekdays writing her Dean McDermott erotica novel titled Fifty Shades of Eh. I’m taking the weekends off now, because I want to spend more time with my other passions: boozing, boozing, watching old episodes of Central Park West and boozing. I don’t expect the daily post count to change much. So if you’ve got a drone and some meth to spare, e-mail me for my address, because I’m going to need some of that shit. (Monday thru Friday only. I’ll be on downers Saturday thru Sunday.)

And now I leave with these amazingly artistic pictures of international supermodel and foodie Phoebe Price doing a beyond avant-garde photo shoot at IHOP in Sherman Oaks, CA on  57 cent pancake day a couple of weeks ago. If Linda Evangelista did a photo shoot in vintage Christian Dior couture at the Louvre, it wouldn’t be 1/1000th as elegant and artistic as this. Chicken Cutlets and discount pancakes are the new chicken and waffles.

Pics: Splash

Open Post And Quick Programming Note: Hosted By The Ginger Tunnel To Heaven

I was on “standby” for jury duty this week and every time I called in, the automated voice told me that I didn’t have to drag my ass in. When the automated voice told me on Wednesday night, I didn’t have to come in on Thursday, I thought I was home free. Why would they call me in on a Friday? Don’t the judges take off early on Friday so they spend the afternoon sipping the tears of the criminals they convict by their pool? I jinxed myself, because they called me in. I have jury duty today and if they call me in for a case, I already plan to get out of it by saying, “Before you start asking me questions, I just want to let you know that I watched 3 episodes of Shahs of Sunset last night SOBER.” The judge will have no choice but to immediately dismiss me since I’m obviously not right of mind and not good at making decisions. Actually, maybe I won’t say that, because if I do, there’s a good chance the judge will drop a 5150 on my ass.

Anyway, so that’s why this Open Post is up earlier than usual. The courthouse has WiFi, apparently, so hopefully I’ll be able to throw some shit up today. Also, Allison is posting today. For now, I leave you with these scalding hot pictures of gorgeousness of the ginger poultry supermodel blossom Phoebe Price (who is dressed up like some kind of bondage ringmaster vampire) showing every model, past, present and future how it’s done while doing a photo shoot for French Vogue’s September issue on the steps of the Louvre in Paris. No, she’s posing for the paps at Sham Ibrahim’s art exhibit in Hollywood last night. Same thing, right?

Pics: Splash

Quick Programming Note: Brought To You By Phoebe Price Showing St. Angie Jolie How It’s Really Done

Remember when St. Angie Jolie’s fame whoring leg took over the Oscars? Of course you don’t, because that boring memory has been replaced by this much more relevant moment from a much, much, much, MUCH, much more relevant and talented star!

So, we finally know the answer to the question of the week: Why wasn’t the Queen of Cannes at Cannes? Phoebe Price couldn’t be bothered with Cannes this year, because she was too busy spreading her beauty and charisma at an event that has more elegance and artistry on the tip of its clit than Cannes has in its entire being. On Wednesday night, Chicken Cutlets brought her ginger poultry glamour to the most important awards show in the world: The Reality TV Awards in L.A. The hardest-working supermodel and seat filler in the game wore an exquisite gown that was cut so high that everyone got a peek of her freckled Filet O’Fish. Chicken Cutlets served up some surf and turf and everybody wanted several servings. Yes, I hate myself a little more today for typing that.

On that note…

This weekend, I’m going to Las Vegas to do a 2-day residency at the penny slots at Treasure Island (or whatever casino has penny slots). In between that, I’m going to catch a double feature of MESS. I’m seeing Our Lady of Cheetos and Mimi (that’s only if her unicorn “bronchitis” doesn’t get worse). I’m driving to Vegas this morning, so I’m clocking out early. (Yes, we clock in and out Flinstones-style.) Allison is covering most of the day and J. Harvey is filling in for me on Sunday. The Billboard Music Awards are on Sunday and if it produces any dingles of fuckery, I’ll post it that night. That’s if I don’t get arrested and charged with disturbing the peace for trying to recreate Nomi’s pole dance from Showgirls at Cheetahs.

For now, I leave you with these pictures of Chicken Cutlets’ chocharonies. Chicken bacon is what’s for breakfast!

Pics: Splash, Wenn.com

Open Post & Programming Note: Hosted By Chicken Cutlets Stroking A Carrot

Because I’ve had it with the sun and its warm rays heating up my ass cheeks (“Oh, poor you. #CaliforniaProblems” – Allison as she tries to keep her nalgas warm by sitting on a fresh-out-of-the oven baking sheet wrapped in a thick tea towel), I’m in NYC for the Thanksgiving holiday. It’s snowing and I’m into it. The only shoes I brought have soles as flat as Blake NoSoLively’s personality and I expect to slip, fall, bust my ass lips and bruise up my nalgas. It’ll be the most action I’ve had in years and the pavement and I will share a joint together afterward.

So because I’m in NYC and Allison will also be celebrating Thanksgiving with us American whores by swallowing an entire can of cranberries before washing it down with turkey soda, Dlisted will be on vacation mode for the next few days. To answer the question in your head: Yes, now that you mention it, we’re always on vacation mode. So consider this vacation vacation mode. Our regularly scheduled fuckery will resume on Saturday. That’s if whatever is left of my brain hasn’t completely melted and dripped out of my ears from all the boozing and trying to switch subjects when someone brings up Bill Cosby.

And now I leave you with these pictures of the Phoebe Price, the other white meat, hand jobbing a snowman’s carrot nose and licking her way to all kinds of diseases by putting her tongue on a fake lollipop at The Grove in L.A. the other day. PP truly suffers to give us beautiful pictures that are so elegant, so timeless and so artistic that you’d think they were ripped from the pages of French Vogue circa 1965. No, I don’t know why in the hell PP’s dressed like that, but I’m guessing she just got done with her shift as a go-go dancer at a Dia de los Muertos-themed bar and grill.

Pics: Wenn.com