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Julia Stiles has some shit to say about the rumor that her legs were the scissors that cut through Dexter's marriage to his sister. The rumor was that Julia and Michael C. Hall were doing it on the set of Dexter while his marriage to Jennifer Carpenter was breaking into a million pieces. But Julia tells E!'s Marc Malkin that she will not accept Sienna Miller's invitation to join The Platinum Homewreckers Club. Julia's loss!

"I have absolutely nothing to do with the split between Michael and Jennifer. We are good friends and enjoyed working together. This is a personal matter between them, and we should respect their privacy. Although I too prefer to keep my private life, private—I felt compelled to dispel the rumors I was somehow the cause for this matter."

"Enjoyed working together"? CAUGHT! Nobody actually enjoys working with others unless that other is sending a fuckyes wave from your coochie all the way up to the muscle that makes a smile. Yeah, they're TOTALLY doing it (or not)!

Brangelina's never-ending "Go See The Damn Tourist Or Maddox Will Have To Wear LAST Season" tour took them to Madrid, Spain tonight where Brad Pitt continued to look like a retired Euro DJ who drives a Lamborghini and wakes up to Pure Moods Vol. 1 on his alarm clock. And Angie Jo continued to look like she just sashayed directly out of the Kardashian Khristmas Kard.

You know, I'm going to look past Angie's misinterpretation of "If Morticia played Sable on Dynasty" hair, because she's actually wearing SPARKLES on her tits! That's the only thing Twihards and I have in common. As soon as I see SPARKLES, I don't care that they're on the body of a vampire who attacks innocent virgins in the name of BLOOD!

Here's more of Brad trying to escape Angie's clutches so that he can smoke a bowl with Johnny Depp in the bathroom before they have to sit through that shit again.

Mimi's voice already has the power to gently milk massive amounts of happiness from the utters of emotion inside every one of her loyal lambs, and now the Daily Express says she has the same effect on goats! Sort of. A farmer at the St. Helen's Farm in England can't explain it, but he says whenever they play Mimi's Christmas album the goats pump out an extra pint of milk each day. THIS IS NEWS!

Farmer Angus says the milk maids are sick of hearing Mimi's unicorn yodel, but he keeps it on because it makes the goats extra lactate-y. Ugh. Farmer Angus explained it like this, "We are absolutely dumbfounded by the difference playing this song has made to the goats. Our milk maids started listening to the radio when they were milking them. They immediately noticed the animals were more relaxed and started producing more milk as a result. When one of the girls brought in a CD of Christmas classics they seemed to perk up when the Mariah Carey song came on. It’s really upbeat and they seem to love it. I think the staff here are sick of it now but unfortunately it works for the goats.”

I've heard stories about how Mimi's supersonic melodic wail can cause car alarms to scream and garage door openers to malfunction, but who knew it can also make goat nipples widen. Or maybe Farmer Angus has it all wrong. Maybe those goats can't stand Mimi's Christmas shit so they push out as much leche as fast as possible so the milk maids can turn off the music and leave them the hell alone. Come to think of it, my nipples do get a little sore whenever one of Mimi's Christmas songs play in a department store.

Rich at Four Four presents the "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore" supercut! This got me thinking that Toto and Kansas really need to unite for a joint world tour - Four Four

Never mind Kevin Spacey refusing to publicly admit he loves the peen, what is this gay men's tribe they speak of and why haven't I been invited to a "pass the pipe" meeting? - Lainey Gossip

Are we sure these aren't just a couple of wax figures? - The Superficial

It looks like Rosie O'Donnell's Exit to Eden bondage suit found a new home - Hollywood Tuna

I don't know what's more ridiculous, the Photoshop job on Pamela Anderson's Playboy cover or the poem she wrote for this shit (site NSFW) - Drunken Stepfather

Circus with the sparkly vampires! - Towleroad

I only like Nicole Richie's wedding dress because it reminds me of the mess Heather Locklear wore when she married Richie Sambora - The Berry

Well, you don't fuck with a dude's fried chicken - NYC Barstool Sports

The Gosselin kids would rather sleep in dresser drawers than live with Kate - Celebitchy

Battle of the Queens: Joy Behar vs. Andy Cohen - OMG Blog

MiserAlba is ready to dust some shit with the swish of a hip - Popoholic

Tater Head is the new spud of Badgley Mischka - Just Jared

Things we will never EVER need: A Shakespeare in Love sequel - ICYDK

Ashley Olsen even coos out "PRUNE" when she's sunbathing by herself - Popsugar

The SAG Award Nominations - I'm Not Obsessed

Contact high - Cityrag

When a lap dance goes RIGHT - SOW

Debra Messing SANS FARDS - Hollywood Rag

By now, many of you have already caught a temporary case of the dry heaves from watching the new First Lady of New York Sandra Lee work her dark-sided black magic all over a creation she dubbed THE KWANZAA CAKE! The Kwanzaa cake was not only named after the African American holiday, but it was also named after the sound your throat makes when you try to swallow a piece of that mess. But drunk ass Sandra Lee isn't the only one to blame for inflicting a frosted stomach virus on the world.

Food stylist Denise Vivaldo has slid into a confessional booth at the Huffington Post to ask for forgiveness for putting store-bought angel food cake, Corn Nuts, apple filling, popcorn, vanilla frosting and pumpkin seeds together in one recipe. Denise started her confession by saying she wrote several recipes under contract for Sandra Lee including Chanukah cake. Obviously, Denise is not under contract with Sandra anymore, because if she was she wouldn't be able to write this out loud:

I can honestly say Ms. Lee had nothing against African Americans or Jews. She just has incredibly bad food taste. She was not discriminating about who would be harmed from her culinary "creations." Think what your taste would be like if you came from carnival or circus people. Did I just offend Paris Hilton?

When the Angel Food Cake Collection came to life, Ms. Lee was converting to Judaism herself for her new husband and she seriously wanted to bring her new "cuisine" to an entire nation. Well, let's put it this way, she wanted to sell a shitload of books. And she did. She wanted fame and money. And she succeeded. I believe that's often thought of as the American dream by many, isn't it? Note to all American Dreamers: This may be a good time to take a look inward.

Denise then gets to the part about how she created culinary diarrhea which later spewed out of Sandra's mouth and finger tips:

Ms. Lee called and though we were done with the book, she needed at least ten extra angel food cakes for "fun" sugary holiday times to sell to a magazine. Just a reader's note, it wasn't Gourmet, but the magazine I designed those "adorable cakes" for is still in business.

Read it and weep.

Please ask yourself, what would you have done in my place? See how that Kwanzaa cake is looking better from my perspective? I will tell you truly, the candles were her idea.

I guess I imagined something more refined. And I know the Corn Nuts were disgusting, but she didn't. As a matter of fact, the more tasteless the recipes got the more she liked them, the faster she approved them, and I could get home and drink some medium-priced wine after our meetings. She's not a good role model for abstinence.

So there you go! Now you have another name to curse when you're sitting on the toilet with a barf bin in your lap after thinking it would be a fucking hilarious idea to make and eat the Kwanzaa Cake during Kwanzaa.

But you know, that cake might work if you throw it in the blender with an entire bottle of vodka. A Kwanzaacake-tini, if you will! I'm actually surprised that Sandrunk Lee hasn't already tried that shit.

via Eater (Thanks Michele & Bob)

Blake Edwards, director, writer, producer and husband of Julie Andrews has floated up the moon river to heaven at the age of 88. Blake was surrounded by his wife and family when he died from complications of pneumonia at St. John's Health Center in Santa Monica last night.

Blake's publicist tells The Associated Press that he was hospitalized about two weeks ago. At the time of his death, Blake was working on a stage musical version of The Pink Panther.

Rest in peace, Blake and thanks for Victor/Victoria, S.O.B., 10, The Pink Panther, Revenge of the Pink Panther (don't judge, Dyan Cannon is in it), The Great Race, and Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Meanwhile, in Detroit....Santa Claus has put down the cookies and picked up the moves! The HO HO HOs are shooting off of Santy's finger tips with every move he makes.

Or wait, maybe he's having some kind of roadside seizure..... Rudolph is a licensed EMT, right?

via THD

Long before Mad Mel Gibson was barfing out hateful words directed towards Jews in the back of a police car, he was barfing out hateful words directed towards Jews while getting drunk at Hollywood parties. This is what Winona Ryder tells GQ Magazine in a spastic interview that sort of made my brain feel like it was tasered and then injected with liquefied ludes. But back to Winona's Mel Gibson story. Winona says that she was one of the first to watch a tiny black Hitlerstache grow over Mel's lip before her very eyes.

"I remember, like, fifteen years ago, I was at one of those big Hollywood parties. And he was really drunk. I was with my friend, who's gay. He made a really horrible gay joke. And somehow it came up that I was Jewish. He said something about 'oven dodgers,' but I didn't get it. I'd never heard that before. It was just this weird, weird moment. I was like, 'He's anti-Semitic and he's homophobic.' No one believed me!"

Why doesn't anybody ever believe Winona?! Just like the time nobody believed her when said that Edward Scissorhands is as gentle as a kitten's air kiss. Or just like the time nobody believed her when she said that she had no idea how that cashmere scarf ended up at the bottom of her bag. I believe her and the world would be a much better place if WE ALL believe her from now on.

And "oven dodgers", really? Ugh. It's a good thing that when I Google that horrific shit all I get is a picture of a delicious L.A. Dodgers cookie.

And it's not the Lohanatic in the picture above. I think. No, I know, because he would never call up Lindsay Lohan and leave mean and hurtful messages about her addictions and recovery. Who would ever do that?! Don't they know that if Lindsay wants to get an ear full of cuntified hate she just has to put her browser in talk mode and pull up any post about her on this here site? The stalker is wasting their minutes.

Sources tell TMZ that Lindsay Lohan has regularly been getting harassing phone calls and text messages from Regina George an unknown stalker. The stalker froze LiLo's freckles with fear when they practically sang out an extra creepy version of "Every Breath You Take" by saying that they know where she is and are watching her. Betty Ford is handling this shit by moving LiLo to a safer place and have told her to stay inside as much as possible.

Oh, Lindsay, Michael Lohan is just trying to deliver his Christmas present to you again. That's all. You know, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was White Oprah with a voice changer calling from a pay phone outside of the bathrooms at her favorite bar. Anything to keep the Lohan name at the top of TMZ's page. "The call is coming from inside of the T.G.I. Friday's on Long Island! OMG!" - LiLo

This is no laughing matter, though. This is serious business and should be treated as such. The FBI should scoop up the entire Lohan family, change their names, transplant them into a small Eastern European village, force them to get Face/Off surgery with a German family, and wire their jaws shut so the secret of their true identity never audibly spills out when they're drunk. It's for their own good.

Just like that pearl necklace, my soul dribbled down into a dark canyon of uncertainty when Aretha Franklin underwent a mystery surgery for a mysterious condition two weeks ago. Aretha has yet to confirm or deny that the mysterious condition is pancreatic cancer. But Aretha did release a statement saying that she's resting her chichis in the comfort of her own bed and is hoping she'll be well enough to get some theater in her life very soon. Aretha cooed this out to the Free Press:

“I’ve been at home for almost three days now. My family and friends who brought me home are taking great care of me. I also have a private nurse who visits on a daily basis. I’m hoping to be strong enough to go out and see the upcoming Sam Cooke play at the Music Hall in downtown Detroit before Jan. 2, as well as a performance of ‘Dreamgirls’ at the Fox before it closes.”

Since Aretha is craving some DRAMA and THEATRICALITY, let me deliver some to her bedside. Here's an absolutely riveting silent movie of a ladybug playing a game of pool with itself.

Yes, ladybugs suck at playing pool but the bitch is trying. Clap for that!

via Cute Overload