The drama doesn't even stop on the damn holy day. A 25-year-old California dude named Christian LaBella was put into handcuffs last night after he allegedly attacked Lindsay Lohan in her hotel room at the W Hotel in Manhattan early this morning. Now this is truly some Charlie Sheen shit.
LiLo met the dude at 1 Oak last night and brought him back to her room at the W in Gramercy to party with her and her friends. LiLo probably thought that they'd have a few laughs, she'd snort a few lines off of his peen and everything would just be coke-colored rainbows. But shit got serious after she accused him of taking pictures of her with his phone. WNBC New York says that after LiLo grabbed Christian's phone away, he threw her on the bed, which scratched up her hands. LiLo ran out of the room and started running down the stairs, but for some reason she turned around and went back to her room. When LiLo got back to her room, she told police that Christian choked her, threw her to the floor and got on top of her. One of LiLo's friends was able to pull Christian off and then the friend pulled the hotel fire alarm. Christian tried to run out of the hotel, but the police caught him in the lobby and arrested his ass.
No word yet on what kind of pictures that crazy douche took of LiLo, but I'm guessing it was either pictures of her reading the holy bible or pictures of her drinking chamomile tea while singing church songs to orphans, because that shit right there would ruin her reputation.
Why do I have a feeling that Christian is telling police that a gross creature who smelled like rancid smugness and looked like a giant nutsack with legs and a hairy landing strip gave him a stack of money to rough up Lindsay Lohan. Presenting exhibit EVERYTHING!
The fucked up shit that happens to LiLo. Ginger from Casino = LiLo's life.
UPDATE: NBC New York says that Christian LaBella has been released and the NYPD dropped all charged after investigating this shit. Christian, who works for Republican congressman John Shimkus of Illinois, has also filed a harassment complaint against LiLo. The moral of the story is, when you want to do a line of the bad shit with some dude you met at club, just do it in the safety of a stall in the club bathroom. That's why they have toilet seats! And I'm going to need something seriously mind-altering to deal with the fuckery that's going to spill out of White Oprah's mouth about this mess.
Because babies can't hold their liquor, Justin Bieber vommed on stage at his show in Glendale, Arizona last night. Yes, even Canadian messiahs get the barfs, but what's really magical about this is that he somehow kept singing as he yacked the nastiness up. That's magic! Either some trickery (aka lip-synching) is going on or Bieber trained his b-hole to sing out of his songs when his mouth is unavailable. But back to the barfs, why did Bieber get them? Here's my three theories:
1. Bitch is knocked up. See, THIS is why you need Planned Parenthood, Arizona.
2. Justin Bieber is really a performance artist and he's giving an artistic interpretation of his songs.
3. A lady in the front row flashed her actual female breasts at him.
The answer is: NONE OF THE ABOVE. This is what Bieber blamed his puking on:
Uh huh, milk... Even Usher laughed at that backstage while pulling up his pants. But seriously, this is why Justin Bieber should've never cut off the golden mop of his dreams on his head. Because if he still had hair like that, one of his dancers could've just turned him upside down and used his mop head to clean that mess up.
Anne Hathaway got married yesterday to that jewelry designer/actor dude she got with right after her con artist ex-boyfriend got busted by the feds, and judging by these blurry pictures, it sorts of looks like they exchanged vows in the middle of the same cornfield where mobsters torture their enemies in movies. But 29-year-old Anne and 31-year-old Adam Shulman didn't get married in the middle of a corn field/mob cemetery, they got married right before sunset at a private estate in Big Sur, CA. I see you, Anne, trying to get yourself some Oscar luck by getting married in the same town Natalie Portman's ass got married in. Well, but at least Anne served CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE.
People says that over 100 guests watched as Adam and Anne bumped teefs during their first marital kiss after becoming husband and wife next to a barn on a fancy private estate. Some source says that Anne wore a custom-made gown by Valentino, but that source is spitting lies, because you know that's one of her old costumes from The Princess Diaries 2. One of the wedding vendors, who obviously has zero shits to give over signing a confidentiality agreement, tells Celebuzz that they think Anne and Adam's wedding cost around $1 million and the flowers alone were $100,000.
Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, what in shower headband hell is attacking her head? Did Anne have brain surgery right before the wedding? Did she somehow come up with the idea that head trauma victim bride is SO the look this season? If Anne took off her dress and put on a stained Garfield shirt, holey sweats and Chinese house slippers, she'd look like my cousin going to the refrigerator to pour herself a morning cup of Fresca. That is some sleeping head wrap glamour right there.
A ginge with a beard AND he looks hot in prison orange AND he's got can opener teeth? That wasn't an extra long beer burp I just let out. That was a swoon. If he wasn't about to kill Bambi's mom, I'd be all about him. (Just don't ask him to do oral stuff on you or your fuck parts could end up like that can.)
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If you don't immediately know the name of this exquisite jewel, then please form a line to my left, because I'd like to personally give each of you the same side-eye that chihuahua's throwing in the picture above. If you really don't know who this is, go outside, look up to the heavens and ask God to show you the meaning of beauty. You'll feel some twitches down below before your b-hole queefs out a black diamond with Harald Glööckler's gorgeous face on it. (Or just click here or here if you really don't know this perfection.)
The mash-up of Glamberace, a female-to-male pre-op cholita and an ebony unicorn has already injected his own brand of gloth glamour into a fashion line and eatin' tools, and now he's selling dog accessories. Harald launched his collection of dog couture at a pet store in Berlin the other day and the fabulousness in the air was so thick that everyone there now knows what it feels like to get butt fucked by a rainbow. And if you say the name Glööckler really slow, your sphincter will tighten and stay that way forever. Instant anal rejuvenation!
Brigitte Nielsen wrote in her memoirs last year that she hopped on Arnold Schwarzenegger's schnitzel a few times while shooting Red Sonja in 1984, but he kept his tramp lips shut about it until now. Arnold's got his own book coming out next week and since books don't just jump to the top of the New York Times Bestsellers list by themselves, he's finally spilling it about the time he bumped bare pecs with Gitte.
According to Time, the former Governor of Mildred Baena's Chocha admits that while he was living with Maria Shriver, he had a fuck party with Gitte. Arnold writes that getting with Gitte helped him realize that he wanted to marry Maria. Time put it like this:
Schwarzenegger and Nielsen co-starred in the 1985 film “Red Sonja.” Nielsen wrote in a memoir published last year that she and Schwarzenegger had an “outrageous affair” while making the movie and that she didn’t know until later that he was involved with Shriver.
Schwarzenegger writes that he knew the fling with Nielsen wouldn’t last and in fact it only made him realize that he wanted to marry Shriver.
Maria Shriver probably didn't even waste energy on rolling her eyes at this, because Arnold has dicked everything and anything. Arnold has the Flat Stanley of dicks. It's been everywhere. And Gitte should take it as a compliment that when Arnold was humping on her, he looked deep up into her flaring nostrils and only saw the image of him ruining Maria's life by marrying her. Bitch dodged a bullet, because if she married Arnold, it'd end with her rolling around in the grass of a Studio City park while drunk on Popov vodka (that's Russian for "given up on life"). Oh, wait...
And here's some pictures from a couple of weeks ago of Arnold hanging out with a hot friend while looking like a blind ostrich who's pumped up on the wrong kind of hormones.
You too would take the express route to Drunkville if you looked down and saw the cut-off tails of a family of My Little Ponies draped over your chichis. Dishwashers at Spago in Beverly Hills had to stay 2 hours past their shift last night, scrubbing red oil stains off the edges of wine glasses, which could only mean one thing: Drunktina was there!
Looking like she just hung her head over a toilet right after Jem! took a pink and purple-colored piss in it, Drunktina stumbled out of Spago last night with the help of two human crunches. You know, Drunktin's leased piece, whatever his name is, has it good. Dude gets to live in a mansion, use Xtina's AMEX whenever he wants and the only thing he has to do is safely escort her drunk ass to a waiting SUV and dunk her face in a bowl full of paint remover before bedtime so she doesn't ruin another pair of $3,000 sheets. Bitch does not have it bad.
Depending on how fashion forward you were, you might've had a bubble bottle necklace in either the 80s or the 90s. If you don't know what the bubble bottle necklace is, its name is pretty self-explanatory, but I'll tell you in detail what it was in case your brain checks out when you clock your time card out on Friday nights. The bubble bottle necklace is a bottle of bubbles that has a string attached to it which makes it a necklace. Glad, I could clear that up.
So, when I was a kid, this shit was coveted by everyone. I got one at the swap meet for 99 cents and treated it like it was the finest piece of jewelry I owned, which it was. It was so special that if I was friends with Lindsay Lohan and she came over to hang out, she would've snatched it up. Eventually, I would've known she took since she'd start queefing bubbles.
I blew my bubble bottle necklace so much that it felt weird every time I exhaled and gay ass bubbles didn't come flying out of my mouth. I was the original gay fish. One of my favorite things to do was to blow bubbles and then use my hand fan to blow them around. Yes, I had a bubble bottle necklace AND a hand fan and I used them together. I looked like a Chinese madam at an underground whore house in San Francisco circa 1978.
They still make bubble bottle necklaces today, and while researching this high important story I came across a bubble bottle necklace that I may or may not have ordered a dozen of.
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