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The rotten lump of stupid that is Peaches Geldof wants you to think she's trying to be ironic and edgy by wearing Jesse James' favorite nightshirt, but I know what she's really doing. That nasty piece of trash is trying to divert your attention from her HOTTER and SESSIER friend. Bitch failed as usual.

Even though Peaches' ugly ass outfit is barfing the words "LOOK AT ME!" over and over again, she still looks like a dusty tumbleweed next to that Asian sex ball. It's as if Pat and Grandma Kim from All-American Girl had a secret love child. Giddyup! Giddyup!

Here's more of Peaches and her friends begging for an ass whoopin' on the streets of Los Angeles yesterday. Even the deformed cave cannibals from The Hills Have Eyes wouldn't eat their asses. You know, because they don't attack their own.

Brynne Gordon, the gold digging California dew drop who married an old ass Australian millionaire, was the toast of the Logie Awards in Australia on Sunday night. And what I mean by that is everybody at the show had to toast and down gallons of booze to fully embrace Brynne's beauty.

Now I know you're assuming that Brynne's one-of-a-kind luxurious gown must have been bought from a couture house in Paris, but get ready to suffer a blow to your mind because she designed it herself! YES, Brynne is a woman of a million talents. We still don't know what those talents are, but she has many of them!

Brynne's dress, which is the exact shade of the tears her husband's checking account cried when he married her, was made with the finest French silk from Taiwan and jewels she wore to her wedding. It's like Moulin Rouge meets Marie Antoinette meets the front of a dump truck. Elegantly understated as always.

Below is a clip of Brynne talking about her to dress to the Herald Sun.

Brynne should narrate the Guantanamo Bay orientation video, because her voice is as soothing as a handjob from Freddy Krueger.

When I first read Cynthia Nixon's name on the list of celebrities attending the White House Correspondents' Dinner, I immediately rubbed a layer of SPF 10 million over my eyes to prepare them for the vision of the glorious Rojo Caliente in a custom made white tuxedo from the GOD collection at Men's Warehouse. Well, I nearly blinded myself for no reason, because it doesn't look like Rojo Caliente was even there. Oh, Rojo continues to elude me like proper grammar.

Doesn't Rojo know that Obama only agreed to show up because he wanted to witness her beauty for himself? Sigh. Even though Rojo was not there to dazzle Obama's soul, he still managed to perform. Here he is throwing ZINGS and SNAPS left and fucking right:

UPDATE: Forget everything I said above, because Rojo Caliente was there. AND HOW!

Doesn't Rojo look sharp as all fuck? Rojo looks like she's about to tap dance off walls and shit! How is that frosty beverage she's holding not bubbling over? It's the luckiest glass in the world. I've never wanted to spoon with a glass until now.

And here's some celebrities who were invited to last night's dinner for whatever reason. Don't ask me how some (Michelle Obama and Betty White not included) of these hos got an invitation. Most of them don't even belong at the White Castle Correspondents' Dinner let alone the White House Correspondents' Dinner.

In order: a future People Magazine "I'm a lesbian" cover fetus, some drag queen, Jessica Simpson with Gabourey Sidibe, Patricia Arquette (looking dreadful) with Wendie Malick (ditto) , the Jonas Brothers, Donatella Versace, ScarJo with her twin brother, the Tasmanian Devil, MiserAlba with her husband, BETTY WHITE and Michelle Obama.

It wouldn't be the Kentucky Derby without a tall crystal glass of sweet tea with just a hint of mint to give your tongue the tingles. Johnny Weir quenched the thirst of dry mouthed bitches when he hit the red carpet at the Kentucky Derby yesterday dressed like a fancy Bravo reality star (I'm looking at you, Dwight) going to a drag queen's funeral.

This is the first time in the history of the Kentucky Derby that the race ended early and a winner was not declared. That's because as soon all the horses spotted Johnny in the audience, they sprouted wings, pushed a crystal horn out of their heads and flew off towards the land of rainbows and glitter. Johnny freed them!

And the people who got to witness Johnny's glittery magic at work were: two assholian clowns, Larry Birkhead with Dannielynn, Fran Drescher, Joey Fat One, Jeff Lewis with Jenni, Vanessa Manilafolders with Nick Lachey, LOCKE!, Ugh Mario Lopez, Marisa Miller, Rebecca Romijn with Jerry O'Connell, Fred Willard and the woman with the best hat at the Derby.

The blind item about a celebrity coming out on the cover of People Magazine on Wednesday has apparently been solved. Put your magnifying glass down, Detective La Toya.

Gawker, Queerty and TMZ are all pointing their fingers at country singer Chely Wright. Or as 99% of the population know her as, WHO???!!!? Seriously, they could've at least given us Kenny Chesney!

Chely's publicist is Howard Bragman and she has a book, Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer, and an album, Lifted Off the Ground, coming out on Thursday, so it all makes sense that she will be the one declaring her love for vagina on the cover of People this week. And nothing gets you noticed like a bunch of conservative country fans asking Walmart to ban your CD because you've got "tha lesbiansessual sicks." Although, I don't even know if they're going to care.

I wonder what the headline will be for Chely's People Magazine cover. I hope it's one of these four:

1. Chely Wright (Google her, you dumb fuck!) is a lesbian!
2. Chely Wright (Yeah, we don't know either) is a lesbian!
3. Chely Write says: "I'm Gay!" Mariah Carey's response is: "I don't know her"
4. Harpo, who dis woman?

Anyways, congratulations to Chely for sharing her gayelleness with the world, even thought it is a publicity stunt.

If you have a big announcement to make and have more than 50 Twitter followers, hit up People magazine because they will probably give you the cover.

Lance Orton, the NYC T-shirt street vendor who SAVED THE CITY! Or something like that.

By now I'm sure you've heard all about the sequel to The Hurt Locker taking place in NYC last night. Shit might have become a disaster if it wasn't for Lance Orton, the Vietnam vet and T-shirt seller, who first told police about a smoking Nissan Pathfinder near his stand. Most hos walking by probably brushed the smoking SUV away, because they figured two stoners were just hot boxin' again. But Lance immediately alerted a mounted police officer about the SUV. After the officer smelled gunpowder, Times Square was shut down, and Jeremy Renner was brought in to diffuse the situation.

Early this morning, reporters tried to interview Lance, but he threw all of them shade. Lance refused to talk to them, because he said the media will twist his words around. He only said, "If you see something, say something."

Because I mostly write about attention whores who would give up their pancreas for a blurb in Life & Style magazine I sometimes forget that real people who could give a fuck about stupid shit like fame actually exist! Viva Lance!

(Image via Fox News Live Shots)

David Beckham (35)
Lily Allen (25)
Robert Buckley (29)
Jenna von Oy (33)
The Rock (38)
Stephen Daldry (49)
Donatella Versace (55)
Christine Baranski (58)
David Suchet (64)
Lesley Gore (64)
Bianca Jagger (65)
Engelbert Humperdinck (74)
Theodore Bikel (86)