Miley Cyrus sheds her child star status. And her bra. (The Blemish)
- Ewan McGregor and his wife adopted a baby girl. Eat your heart out, Denise Richards. (ICYDK)
- Charlize Theron is like, “marriage, whatevz.” (Bricks and Stones)
- Alicia Keys‘ wax statue looks just like her. Only white. (Hollywood Rag)
- Megan Fox didn’t actually cheat on BAG with Shia the Beef. The were ON a BREAK! (Anything Hollywood)
- Justin Timberlake invests in MySpace. What a head for business on this guy. (Daily Stab)
- Eva Mendes and Jason Sudeikis what whaaat? (Just Jared)
- Mission Impossible 4 Trailer. There it is. (ONTD)
Monthly Archives: June 2011
I loved being read to as a child and I still like a nice story now and then, especially if it’s a detailed description of an uncomfortable sexual encounter with a famous person. A Los Angeles-based woman whose name and info I won’t post here (because I’m nice; but you can find it anywhere else if you like) recently hooked up with Quentin Tarantino and wrote out the sordid tale in email form. Apparently she’s friends with someone just like Emma Watson’s hookup’s buddy, because the email promptly made its way to the cybertube. You can read the entire encounter at Gawker, but here’s the gist:
We make out some more, there’s a little below the belt action that I try to avoid, as QT has the most unattractive penis I have ever seen (short. fat. nub-like. The chode of all chodes.) Just as I’m about to hyperventilate over the fact that he may try to put that horrific bodily implement anywhere near my Britney, he leans over and goes “Hey…”
I know this “Hey.” This is the “Hey, should I get a condom?” hey that accompanies 20 minutes of ungratifying sex. As I’m trying to rapidly think of ways I can agent myself out of this deal, I hear what is without a doubt, the strangest question in the history of my life.
Quentin Tarantino asks, “Can I suck on your toes while I jerk off?”
And thus began the weirdest ten minutes of my life – having my feet made out with by an Oscar winning filmmaker while he pleasured himself. Truth be told, it wasn’t so bad.
Quentin Tarantino might be a foot-licker and star of Destiny Turns On the Radio, but as far as I know, he doesn’t call his genitalia his “Britney”, so advantage: Tarantino.
Lots of people refer to babies as “angels” or “God’s little miracles” but let’s be honest: they’re kind of disgusting. They sit in their own biological waste, their toothless mouths straining blindly for something, anything to be crammed into them, they get repulsive ailments called “diaper rash” and “cradle cap”. Troglodytes, all of them. So I can’t blame Octomom for claiming that her test tube babies give her the willies. She tells In Touch:
“I hate the babies, they disgust me. My older six are animals, getting more and more out of control, because I have no time to properly discipline them.”
In a picture taken by the magazine, one child is seen eating drywall in her run-down home.
‘The only way I can cope is to lock myself in the bathroom and cry. Sometimes I sit there for hours and even eat my lunch sitting on the toilet floor. Anything to get peace and quiet,” she said. “Some days I have thought about killing myself. I cannot cope… Obviously I love them – but I absolutely wish I had not had them.”
I feel bad dissing Octo because she is clearly mentally screwy, but honestly, what was she thinking having fourteen kids was going to be like? “They’ll cook and clean and go off to work every day, singing catchy jingles with whistley interludes!” Just like the seven dwarves. Only without beards. And there will be twice as many of them.
I am trying to be a responsible journalist, so I’m not using the “booze” tag here. I mean, it’s perfectly plausible that Lindsay Lohan didn’t drink last night. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that she stayed out at a bar with friends the first night after being released from house arrest and then fell on her face in the street while being completely sober. Ahahaha, who am I fooling. The Hollywood Gossip says:
Last night, she partied with friends at the Lexington Social House in Los Angeles.
Lohan reportedly spent the evening with actors Emile Hirsch and Lyndsy Fonseca, barely making it out of the club without falling as she tried (and failed) to hide from a swarm of paparazzi.
God, but I’ve missed her. Welcome back, you speckled wreck.
I’m with Big Fun: teenage suicide, don’t do it. Don’t do adult suicide either. Because then you’ll be dead and I’ll be like, “where did so-and-so go” and then I’ll realize you’re dead and I’ll be sad. So cut it out, with the self-killing. That means you, Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Per the Irish Independent:
Jonathan Rhys Meyers has been discharged from hospital after an alleged suicide attempt.
The 33-year-old Irish actor, who resides in London, was taken to hospital by ambulance on Tuesday night after reportedly downing pills.Jonathan was discharged in the early hours yesterday and told The Sun “No comment”, when asked how he was.
Charlie Sheen has lost the last of his sweet young ladies. Meanwhile, Denise Richards has gained one. She’s adopted a baby girl. Go on with your bad self, Denise Richards.
The actress, 40, just adopted a baby girl domestically, her rep tells PEOPLE.
“Eloise Joni Richards is named after Denise’s mom (Joni), and Denise and her daughters Sam and Lola chose the name Eloise,” the rep says. “Denise and Eloise’s big sisters couldn’t be happier and feel incredibly blessed.”
I feel for poor Sam and Lola, who are going to spend the rest of their lives hearing, “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” But instead of their sister being well-behaved and academically-driven, her bragging rights will be “not sired by Charlie Sheen”.