Open Post & Programming Note: Hosted By Marilyn Manson

You’re probably reading these words while pulling your panties up and wiping your musky down low parts with the bottom of your shirt. Because as soon as the head picture for this post came up, you immediately rubbed your genitals on your computer monitor until you almost got electrocuted. The word “fuck” written with a Sharpie on Marilyn Manson’s mouth compelled you to do so. You actually shouldn’t be reading this right now, because you should be down at the free clinic (FYI: They open at 10am on the weekends) getting treated for ink poisoning and a new kind of gonorrhea that is only transmitted through pixels.

Marilyn Manson, who looks like he just ate the dreams of a thousand obese children, shuffled through LAX yesterday with his piece Lindsay Usich and he threatened all the paps with a good time by scribbling the words “fuck you” on his mound of flour-dusted pie dough face. Lindsay Lohan is so going to sue his powdery ass for copyright infringement. In case you’re wondering, the words “fuck you” written in marker on a face translates into “look at me looook at me oh god look at me fuck me with your attention please just loooook at me” in real talk.

And on that note, I’m taking another quick trip this summer and might not be around as much for the next few days. While I’m off suckling on a 12 oz. Corona on top of a hotel room bedspread as I suction my brain to non-stop Olympic coverage, my partners in blog foolery, J. Harvey and Sweetas (THE RETURN OF SWEETAS!!!) will be here planting seeds of fuckery. I’ll be back full-time on Tuesday if I don’t get arrested at JFK’s TSA checkpoint for committing acts of buffoonery by getting make-up ideas from Marilyn Manson and scribbling the words “fuck you” on my face (it’s tempting). They have WiFi at Gitmo, right?

Open Post & Weekend Programming Note: Hosted By The Piping Hot Mickey Rourke

And now thanks to these pictures of panty cream-inducer Mickey Rourke drunk sashaying out of a club in London the other night, you will be having the pastrami hash with a side of burnt canned tomatoes for brunch. You can always count on Mickey to show you that beauty is a half-melted, inside/out Michael Myers mask. On that note, my ass is going away this weekend (and no, I’m not going to weekend jail for my crimes against grammar…. that’s next week) and while I’m away, drunk bitch extraordinary J. Harvey will be filling in the fuckery for me today and tomorrow.

I’m still doing Birthday and Hot Sluts and I might post a tiny bit here and there. I shifted the word “might” to the right by italicizing that shit, because it’ll be hard trying to blog about dumb bitches while guzzling on a can of Corona (yes, I said “CAN“) in the lukewarm and possibly piss-infused jacuzzi of a moderately priced hotel. I’ll be back full-time on Monday. For now, I leave you with these images from the beauty gods of Mickey Rourke. Frolic through his tortured, battle line hairline.

Open Post & Programming Note: Co-Hosted By Josh Hopkins & James Marsden

Because getting two teeth pulled out of my skull a few days ago wasn’t enough, I’m going in for more dental work in a quick minute. My dentist says this work is going to take a long ass while, because my mouth is a mess. (“You need to stop brushing with dirty dicks.” – you “I wish” – me) Since we’re on the topic of messes, while I stare deep into the nostrils of a dentist, J. Harvey will fill in for me this afternoon by posting a couple or 3 posts. I’ll be back later to do Crumbs. And then after I do Crumbs, I’m going to reenact the “I’ll nevah let go!” scene from Titanic with my bong and a bottle of booze, because I’ve been told to stay away from smoking and drinking. My dentist hates me so and has a good way of showing it.

And here’s Josh Hopkins from Cougartown and James Marsden sunning their man pecs in Hawaii. I don’t know if they’re on the same beach, but I do know that they need to touch nipples in front of a camera at some point during their vacation.

Open Post & Programming Note: Hosted By RiRi’s Nipples

It’s just a nipple and I hate blurring one, but I really don’t want read an email today that says: “I WAS FIRED FOR HAVING RIRI’S LACE-COVERED ALIEN NIP ON MY SCREEN!” So I blurred her nip out on the top pic. This pic will also be on top for a while, because for the next few hours I’ll be lying on my back with my mouth wide open (“And this is new news to us how?” – you). Today is the official coming out party for my remaining wisdom teeth (or as my dentist calls them, your “notasdumbastheotherones” teeth). FUN! Here’s hoping they all come out intact, because I really want to make nipple rings out of them.

My dentist says that my wisdom teeth have pretty much busted through my gums already, so it shouldn’t be that hard or painful to yank them out. Afterward, he’ll pop a Vicodin in my mouth hole and I’ll be back on Dlisted. I never make sense to sober brains, so maybe the afternoon delight Vicodin pill will kick something in my brain and I’ll start making sense (but probably not).

For now, I leave you with these pictures of RiRi doing the walk of no shame in NYC yesterday while dressed like a lot lizard on a Salvation Army budget. I like how the look on the lady on the right’s face is saying, “Bitch, your nipples look like they’re on a seesaw. Fix them before putting them on display!” She speaks for all of us.

Programming Note: J. Harvey’s Back!

Since J. Harvey is a certified drunk mess, I felt it was only fitting to announce his triumphant return with these pictures of Our Patron Saint of Patron, Kate Moss, trying to figure out how “this walking thing” works while leaving a Mexican restaurant in London with her husband Count Von Count last night. But before I get into Drunk Ass Kate being Drunk Ass Kate….

One of the more reliable voices in my head tells me that the sanctity of marriage will receive a flaming breath of life this weekend when the most gorgeous ginger lesbian on every planet Rojo Caliente marries Cynthia Nixon. So because of this, I’m going to spend my entire Memorial Day Weekend throwing confetti made of double pleated Dockers in the streets to celebrate the greatest ROYAL GINGER LESBIAN WEDDING OF OUR TIME! No, I won’t be doing that, but I did hear that a Rojo Caliente wedding might be upon us soon, so gird your souls! My mom is in town, so my sister and I will be spending our Memorial Day Weekend fighting with each other in various restaurants around the city. While I do that, J. Harvey will be spreading the foolery on Dlisted starting today through Monday. I’ll still be posting sporadically (file that under: smart words I learned while watching Clueless) throughout the weekend, so you haven’t completely gotten rid of me. I’ll be back full-time on Tuesday where we’ll continue to investigate the mysteries of dick cheese, etc…

And now, here’s Kate Moss threatening all of us with a good time by leaving her fly open while leaving that Mexican restaurant. I don’t know if that peep show sign is just a decoration to make that place look edgy or if there’s a porn store next door, but I sort of like the idea of a Mexican restaurant/sex store. Yes, it would smell like a donkey show star’s fart, but I’ve smelled worse in the subway during August. I mean, when you’re jacking off in a sex store, don’t you really wish that you had a bowl of refried beans in your other hand? Hold the queso blanco.

Programming Note: The Return Of J. Harvey

Before I get into these pictures of Prince Hot Ginge and some girl giving us the drunk trash version of Romeo & Juliet, I have some quick site news. J. Harvey, who with Sweetas guest blogged on Dlisted during Christmastimes while I was busy dining at the finest Olive Gardens in Rome, is helping me out until Monday so that I can dine at the finest Olive Gardens in California. It’s my last weekend in California with my mom and we’re going to party hard (aka get drunk on grocery store wine under an umbrella in the backyard after going to Trader Joe’s for a full lunch of free samples).

J. Harvey was nice enough to take time out from weeping on the curb in front of a Boston gay bar after getting kicked out for eating all the toppings on the complimentary baked potato bar (not a euphemism). My ass is still going to post regularly every day, but J. Harvey will be here to lighten the load (not like that). I’ll be back full-time on Tuesday and then I’ll be back in NYC on Saturday, so every whore in Brooklyn should enjoy the skank-free air while they still can. Now on to PHG….

PHG partied at the Brompton Club in London last night and the paparazzi held on to the roof gutters to get a picture of him talking to some drunk ass tramp in a dirty alley. PHG sure has a thing for those stringy ass blondes who look like they can’t handle their booze. How does this happen, though? If it only takes a hot fag to get PHG into a stank alley, then light me on fire and kick me between two buildings.