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I was going to title that picture "Royal Sword Fight," but that's just wrong and I don't want to think that Prince Hot Ginge partakes in waterfront incest.

Queen Elizabeth II's weekend Diamond Jubilee celebrations (aka Hail To The British Thug Misses) continued today in London when the royal family kept with tradition by getting on a boat decorated with Prince Hot Ginge's shellacked pubes (that's what that gold stuff is right?) and waved to their subjects as the Queen dipped into her pocketbook and threw raw diamonds (bought with taxpayer money) at her people. It's the Queen's way of giving back. It's kind of like when you bought your mom's a Mother's Day gift with her money. It's like that. No, she didn't do that, but she did throw them her smile and that's worth so much more than a pile of diamonds.

If you don't know what the Diamond Jubilee is, it's a celebration to mark the 60th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth II's reign or some shit. In America, we also have a jubilee celebration to honor our queen. We call it Barry Manilow's birthday.

For today's Jubilee River Pageant (I can't believe that's a real thing that exists) down the Thames, The Queen wore her favorite bedazzled church suit. PHG, Prince William and Prince Phillip wore the finest prince costumes found in Disneyland's costume closet, Camilla wore whothefuckcares and Duchess Kate kept it understated in red. Because nothing says "We all know who these bitches are really here to see!" like head-to-knee red.

So far I'm totally disappointed with this Diamond Jubilee celebration. Diamond Jubilee sounds like the gayest thing ever and it's not living up to its name. When is the event where PHG comes out on stage and shakes his pecs while covered in nothing but body glitter and strategically placed rhinestones (a rhinestone covered peen is not considered indecent for public viewing as long as most of the head is covered)? That better be the highlight of Tuesday's ceremony.

A little over 100 guests including Reese Witherspoon, Busy Phillips and Cameron Diaz (basically the bland blonde trifecta) all swooned with their ear holes when Drew Barrymore said "I do" in that drunk baby lisp of hers to her piece of over a year Will Kopelman at her fancy house in Montecito, CA (or as Drew calls it "Montathito") last night. People, who let us know that all EXCLUSIVO pictures of Drew's wedding will be in their next i$$ue, said that Drew got her ass married under a chuppah and a rabbi officiated the ceremony.

Designed by celebrity wedding planners Yifat Oren and and Stefanie Cove – who handled Reese Witherspoon's country chic nuptials last March – the intimate ceremony was "a classic, simple, very pretty, garden-inspired wedding," a source tells PEOPLE.

Classic and simple = BORING. What is the point of having a backyard wedding if you're not going to party it up? Since this is Drew's third marriage (never 4get Tom Green), she should've done it big. Drew should've been popping her pregnant pussy on top of a table as her guests threw dollar bills (which is like long grain white rice to the rich) at her.

UsWeekly says that Drew's something new was a "baby bump" (yes, we're still calling it a baby bump) and she accentuated it with a wedding dress by Chanel since her now father-in-law used to be the CEO of Chanel. I love weddings where the bride has a serious case of the BABIES!!! You haven't been to a wedding until you've been to one in a Catholic Church where an obviously knocked up bride is standing in front of a priest while wearing a virgin white gown from David's Bridal. The bride's abuelita muttering "ay" to herself during the ceremony will take you high, but the bride toasting to her new marriage with a plastic flute full of Mountain Dew at the reception will take you even higher. I mean, Mountain Dew is the Andre of sodie pop.

Richard Dawson, the original host of Family Feud, has gone up to the fast money round in the sky at the age of 79. Richard's son, Gary Dawson, posted the news on Facebook (via LAT) and said that his father passed away last night from cancer.

"It is with a very heavy heart that I inform you that my father passed away [Saturday] evening from complications due to esophageal cancer. He was surrounded by his family. He was an amazing talent, a loving husband, a great dad and a doting grandfather. He will be missed but always remembered."

Before Richard made "R U SERIOUS?" faces at dumb as shit contestants on Family Feud, he was on Hogan's Heroes, Laugh-In, The New Dick Van Dyke Show and Match Game. Match Game led to Family Feud, which won him a Daytime Emmy for Best Game Show Host. Richard also played an evil parody version of himself in The Running Man.

And now Richard is up in heaven, dry kissing the lady angels. I bet he's slipping some of them the tongue. I mean, it is heaven after all. Survey says: Rest in peace, Richard Dawson.

Ukraine's very own Alexander Shtifanov who was described as the world's best bartender when he gave hos a sweet nectar splash show on Ukraine's Got Talent. Dlisted reader Raime sent me this clip of Alexander Shitfan's (which is also John Travolta's handle on the scat queen message boards) working a bottle like no other and he perfectly described the magic and artistry of the world's best bartender better than I ever could:

I hope that you will share this life-changing panty creamer, Alexander Shtifanov, as the hot slut of the day. Why? Because he is unlike every other bartender. Most bartenders will ignore your ass for thirty years on a Friday night at SoBe leaving you painfully sober all throughout the night so that you can be awake for the terrible head they give you in the bathroom of Resurrection four hours later. Sad. I know. But this bartender puts on a hotter version of ignoring! He'll dance and juggle his way to your side of the bar while slo-mo mixing a fancy ass drink for the rich douchebag standing next to you. For this, I elect sexy Alexander from Ukraine... Plus his name sounds like Shit Me Off. Sounds like a good time to me.

If you don't share this then I will watch an entire season of Keeping Up With The Kardashians which will most likely result in an untimely death due to the vomiting of important organs... like my soul.

The last part really sold me, because I, for one, don't want any slut to suffer death by Kardashiarrhea. That's no way to go.

Since my thoughts are always skinny dippy in the deep part of the gutter, while watching Alexander at work, I kept thinking that he must dazzle his hos with a juggling lube bottle show before fuck times. Dude must put the Bellagio fountain show to shame when he squirts the strawberry-scented Wet up in the air and then catches it with his peen.

And even though Alexander has natural talent running through the veins in his fingers, I wouldn't call him the world's best bartender. That title belongs to the bartender at a dump bar in Queens who served me a couple of years ago. After I ordered a Jack and soda, dude put a full bottle of Jack in front of me and told me to go wild. That bartender didn't even care that by putting my mouth on that bottle, I was passing my skank germs to every other customer who put their mouth on that bottle after me. Health department be damned! Now that's how the world's best bartender does it.

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