Posh & Becks

Do Alien Princess RiRi, Woody Woodpecker and Becks all have the same hair butcher? All signs point to: YES!

Becks debuted his brand new "Attack of the Flowbee" haircut during an L.A. Galaxy game last night in Carson, CA. I don't know whether I want to give his new haircut a cracker or release it into a bird sanctuary. OR BOTH.

Obviously, there's only one way to fix this. Becks has to walk through life totally topless. Only his nipples can distract from that maimed cockatoo on his head.

That being said, I'd still scoot on that mess.

Since celebwhores are jizzing over the newest craze micro pigs, it's no surprise that Posh & Becks have jumped into the trough and bought their own adorable oink-ers. The Daily Mail says that Posh dropped £1400 on two tiny teacup pigs for her family. The pigs are currently living in luxury at BeckingHAM Palace in England.

Some source claims that Posh wants to name them Elton & David after her friends Elton John and David Furnish. But Becks thinks they should give them the names Pinky & Perky, which are two words that can be used to perfectly describe his voice.

It's a good thing Posh got her schnoz snipped not too long ago. Because if she didn't, she wouldn't be happy waking up to two tiny pigs suckling on her nipples for leche.

First of all, can you believe Posh is even staring at a caramel apple? I would think that Posh would never glance at such deliciousness out of fear that doing so will make her eyeballs fat. Or something. Hmm. Maybe she's not looking at the apple at all. Maybe she's jealous of how skinny that wooden stick is. Yeah, that's probably it.

Anyway, Posh debuted a new haircut at the Lakers game last night. The game was put on hold and everyone in the place spent a few hours analyzing every strand.

Even though Posh's new haircut is slightly less constipated than the last one, she still looks like she wouldn't even crack a smile if a flock of flying kittens flew by. That's the bitch I know. You can take a dozen laxatives to her hair to loosen it up, but Posh's asshole will stay clenched until the end of time.

Haven't you ever wondered how Posh keeps her body looking like the thinnest suppository in the box? Well, according to sources, she works out constantly. And no, I'm not talking about the good ole' "Kneel, Purge and Wipe" exercise. No, she goes to the actual gym.

A source said that Posh is so sick excess skin on her body that she works out before and after she eats. The source told Showbiz Spy, “She could probably sort it out by just putting on excess weight. But obviously she won’t! So Vic now works out before and after eating, and it’s even increased her appetite."

Posh's fitness regime includes running on the treadmill, lifting weights and Pilates.

LIFTING WEIGHTS?! What the hell kind of weights is she lifting? An unlit matchstick?! And what excess skin are they talking about?! Posh's skin is probably weepy, because it's HONGRAY and malnourished. It's got the sads!

The only workout Posh needs to do is the kind you do at Old Country Buffet. Trust me, that is a real workout. You have to slide out of the booth, walk over to the buffet, pick up a tray, put a piece of fried chicken on a plate, pick up the gravy boat, pour and then walk back. Exhausting! Some bitches have to train for weeks for that kind of marathon. And don't even get me started on what it takes to make a sundae at the ice cream station. That's like advanced aerobics.

Here's the walking skinpick wearing a dress made from a single napkin while leaving a fashion week party in London last night.

What in the praying mantis crackhooker hell is this?! Someone please throw a Biore pad on Posh Beckham, because bitch is greasier than Tommy Girl's dildo. Don't worry, it will only take one Biore pad since Posh is the size of a nose hair. And once you're finished doing that, feed her some water using an eyedropper, because she looks positively parched!

Anyway, here's Posh wearing a used barf bag at a Fashion Night Out event at Bergdorf Goodman in NYC last night. It always boggles my mind that Posh can go out on the streets of NYC without a pigeon pecking at her ass, because it thinks she's a discarded chicken bone.

Posh Beckham got out of her spaceship in Boston today to sit in as the guest judge on American Idol for callbacks. Posh's spokeswhore said that she has no plans to become the permanent fourth judge. However, it does look like she has plans to scare the fuck out of whoever walks through those doors to audition. Those poor bitches are going to think they either walked into a Scientology meeting or some kind of alien sacrifice ritual (same thing, right?). Posh could've eased up on the make-up. Or at least caked on some prosthetics so she looks less praying mantis-like.

Although, my childhood does applaud Posh for wearing a lace headband. Oh, it brings back fond memories of when I used to steal my sister's neon lace headbands and wear them while dancing around in the comfort of my room. So thanks for that, I guess....

Here's more of Posh looking like she'll beat you with a wire hanger if you don't finish your liver dinner while arriving at callbacks today. I also threw in a couple of pictures of Kara DioPLEASELEAVEUSALONE looking annoying as usual. Will Posh just eat her soul already? Oh yeah, what soul.

Posh's bony ass blew into Denver yesterday on a paper airplane to sit in as the guest judge on American Idol next to Hackey McClutchJaw and Simon "The Titty" Cowell. According to Radar, not everyone was clapping with their labia lips when they saw Posh. Some contestants were disappointed that Paula wasn't there. Obviously, these contestants don't go on the internet, watch TV, listen to radio, talk to other people or read the "breaking news" section of their PharmRep Magazine, because every bitch knew Paula wasn't going to be there.

Some source-type (aka Paula's day-shift dealer) added, "It didn't go too well. She tried to hard to be 'nice,' but came off as icy and wooden."

If they expected Posh to be crying, then they need to quit sniffing Paula's homemade paste and come back down to Earth. Posh can't cry, because if she sheds one liquid tear, she will immediately dehydrate and turn into a lump of bone dust. And we already know she's as icy as Nicole Kidman's bare clit in a snowstorm. We know this and would expect nothing less.

I shall end this post with some pictures of our Vicodin Viking rising from the ashes by greeting her public at Burbank Airport yesterday. If that Officer Pepaw only knew what was in her bag....

After reading about the sadness that is Sam the koala's death (see below), we all could use a laugh. So here's one: Posh Beckham is going to be a guest judge on American Idol. You know, that singing competition. Yes, Posh is actually going to judge people's singing abilities. I'm not saying that Paula Abdul was Pavarotti, but DAMN TO THE FUCK! I mean, this isn't America's Next Mayjah Non-Food-Eater or America's Next Mayjah Non-Smiler. Although, both of those would be good shows.

Posh's spokeswhore tells SkyNews that this is just going to be a one night stand. Posh isn't about to replace our very little crazy pillhead. Besides, Posh is too busy working on her fashion line and walking through airports in ankle-killing heels. Seriously, she's always walking through airports.

Okay, Posh on Idol could be entertaining if her critiques are something along the line of this: (picture her saying this to a girl who weighs less than a lima bean) "You know, your voice could be mayjah if you weren't SO FUCKING FAT."

In other news, Michael Vick has just been announced as a permanent judge on Groomer Has It!

At yesterday's Galaxy vs. Milan game in Los Angeles, Posh Beckham and Tommy Girl caught up about fashion, boys, the history of Euro Pop, thetans and gag reflex. Tommy wishes he had a weak gag reflex and Posh wishes she had a strong one. If only they could switch.

During the game, Becks kind of got into it with a bunch of H8RS who kept heckling his ass. Becks skipped over there, pointed his finger at them and nicknamed them "The Riot Squad." I doubt "The Riot Squad" went caca times in their panties out of fear. I mean, Becks' "castrated mouse on helium" voice is hardly threatening.

What Becks should've done is put his peen lips together and whistled for Tommy Girl. Tommy would've sashayed down there, flipped his bangs and challenged The Riot Squad to a Single Ladies dance-off! Game over.

Posh can walk to her car without toppling forward, because The Sun says she has had her enormous Ziploc titty bags removed.

This is apparently the third time Posh has tinkered with her chest area. In 1999, she took her natural 34A breasts to 34D. Two years later, she pumped them even more and took her breasts to a 34DD. A source said that Posh was sick of looking like she was produced at the Katie Price factory, so she went under the knife three weeks ago. Posh feels that her new shrunken chichis fit with her new image as classy fashion designer, mother of three and robot praying mantis.

It must be a relief for Becks, because now he can titty fuck her without breaking his boner. And I'm sure her old implants are more than happy at their new home, a bowling alley.