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One of the photo agencies I got this picture from says that Dreamboat Doherty didn't look well as he left Koko Club in Camden last night. Maybe my eyes have grown accustomed to his sore-y face (I should get that checked out by a doctor), but he still looks like if Helena Bonham Carter caught leprosy, got attacked by a zombie and then tried to cool her rage by drinking gallons of embalming fluid. This is the way he always looks! This is the Dreamy I fell in love with (again, I should get that checked out by a doctor).

What we should really be focusing is the dude on the left's hairline. That's the real story. Let's get a little closer, shall we?

What in the name of Kid 'N Play!!!!?! I didn't know a hairline like that existed anymore outside of Jermaine Jackson's head. Shit. At least we know Vanilla Ice still has one fan. Ice ice baby.

This week's POOP (nourish the inner asshole) newsletter teaches you how to get rid of your "batwings" using the Tracy Anderson Method. Now, I always thought the Tracy Anderson Method of toning your arms involved shoveling millions of dollars of other people's money into your own wheel barrow. What I'm saying is that bitch is a money-stealing fraud. But for shits, read what Fishsticks has to say:

Many of you may already know of my passion for the Tracy Anderson Method and my investment in it. She has kicked my formerly sagging ass (Ed note: Fishsticks will forever be a giant sagging ass. Nice try, though) into shape and I will be forever grateful. This week, Tracy shares with us a little arm series that I did everyday preparing for Iron Man and that I take on the road. She just made it home-made style for me, lo fi. But it's good. Especially for the batwing problem. Also, some of her dedicated clients talk about why they love her as much as I do. She has some brand new DVD's that I have been doing in my hotel room on location and which I highly recommend.

Could this ho be anymore pretentious? In my hotel room on location?! You LO FI BITCH, stay on location forever. And preferably a location with no wireless internet or any other form of communication (that includes carrier pigeons and campfires).

Anyways, here are the lo fi batwing-biotics Fishy does from her hotel room when she's on location, as presented by Tracy Anderson:

I have a feeling that Tracy The Thief has struck again. Tracy didn't invent this technique. I'm pretty sure this is what it looks like when Fishsticks tries to have sex with Chris Martin.

And don't try this at home or your (fill in the name of your boyfriend, cat, or imaginary friend here) will think you're crazy....er.

via HuffPo

Hung, the HBO show about the adventures of a mammoth dick of wonder, is premiering in New Zealand and they erected this billboard in the middle of Auckland to let everyone know.

My nipples bark (they really do) for anything that advertises big dick, but this looks too much like a boiled egg to me. The bulge is probably coming from a chalupa dick. You know, short and stumpy. Like the Danny DeVito of bulges. And where is the panty elastic? Did it rip off due to the enormous weight of the obese peen? Yes, I've thought about this in detail. If I was in college, I'd write my thesis on this.

And you know Tommy Girl is going to find a way to climb up to that billboard and butt hump it.

via Copyranter

The new saying is: "You play football like a Jonai." I'm never one to talk, but I know that if I'm going to handle a ball in a parking lot, it's not going to be a football.

Here's more of the Jonas Bros. playing parking lot football on the set of their movie Chasing Butterflies (that one is too easy).

Scary Spice should've known not to try to recreate the "Cassie cut" with a Flowbee - Hollywood Tuna

George Clooney's piece is showing Sarah Larson how it's really done - Lainey Gossip

Asksars and Bosworth: Still doing it - Just Jared

Heidi Montag's tits are a million times the size of her brain. But that's not saying much since my nipple is a million times the size of her brain. - The Superficial

Mischa Barton went blonde for a movie role. HA. Okay, now I'm just being cruel. (site NSFW) - Drunken Stepfather

Kerry Katona has dropped the chunk in more ways than one - Holy Moly!

Heidi Klum's hand bra - Egotastic!

Glamberace looking like a butch Bill Kaulitz - Towleroad

Ryan Gosling in a t-shirt. That is all. - Popsugar

Paris Hilton has the brain of a 1-year-old, so isn't she a little too young to be playing with Barbies? - Hollywood Rag

Brad Pitt might have accidentally kidnapped a child - Celebitchy

Susan Sarandon getting cougar tips from Demi - Cityrag

Elton John thinks Jesus liked peen - I'm Not Obsessed

Alexander McQueen's label will go on - Socialite Life

Your daily douche gargle - ICYDK

Three weeks ago, Jesse James, former host of Monster Garage and husband of Sandy Bullock, got the sads after his 9-month-old dog Cinnabun went missing. Cinnabun was last seen watching Sandy's movie All About Steve.

Jesse immediately offered up a $2,000 reward for the safe return of his best friend. A few days later, Jesse upped the reward to $5,000. As the days went on, it didn't seem like this story was going to have a happy ending. I mean, All About Steve is pretty scarring.

But yesterday morning, a woman called Jesse James to tell him that she found Cinnabun! The woman saw Cinnabun's picture on a flier. Jesse and Cinnabun were finally reunited yesterday afternoon. CUE THE MUSIC!

Jesse told TMZ that the woman says she's had Cinnabun for "a while." Despite being dirtier than a Lohan and 15lbs lighter, Cinnabun was okay. Well, she's mostly okay. I mean, her name is still Cinnabun.

Have you noticed that your cat has been scratching at its nose like there's snakes coming out of its nostrils, or bumping into walls as though it's trying to jump through some kind of magical portal? You might have realized that something wasn't right when you got a call from the police, because they found your cat snuggling with a frozen turkey in the poultry section of your grocer's cooler. Well, you might want to clear your cupboards of Friskies and drop your cat off at Promises in Malibu, because Purina is feeding your cat the bad shit.

If you don't believe me after watching the one-way acid trip above, then watch this clip below. Guess what this hairless pussy has been eating? Uh huh.

via Brand Freak & Buzzfeed (Thanks Ryan)

I need to apologize for the first three posts of the day about hos you could care less about. These Louvre-worthy portraits of Bobby Trendy with his furry pet (who is obviously Lady GaGa's style icon) and expired Twinkie friend should've been the first thing that went up on this site today. I will punish myself by licking (don't click on that) this picture 10 times in a row. When I'm done, I'll probably have PKM (please kill me) eyes like Bobby's tortured glitter baby.

No, I shouldn't type that. Bobby's dog isn't trying to shoot his eyeballs out of his head to relieve some of the misery, I think he just can't contain his excitement about seeing his icon Johnny Weir spread the glitter on the ice tonight.

Doggy is also a little concerned, because if Johnny falls, Bobby Trendy's colon will never produce glitter again. Nobody wants that.

Everything about these pictures scream: LAST CALL! But really, it's nothing new. During every fashion week from here to Bakersfield, the free clinic messiah rises from a puddle of 100 proof vomit and closes Richie Rich's fashion show. Because nothing makes people run for the exit like Pamela Anderson's vag. Seriously, Pamela should rent our her services. When you've got a party guest (aka one of your cousins) who just can't take a hint, bring Pamela's vag out and he'll scatter faster than a hooker running from the po po's siren.

Here's more of Pammy looking like the janitor just woke her up with his broom. Terrell Owens also walked during the show last night, and we're going to need a few mammalogists to tell us what kind of creature is on his head.