Crazy

Picture this: Ryan O'Neal is at Farrah Fawcett's funeral, scoping out the situation and seeing what's sexy, when a woman comes up to hug him. Ryan immediately turns to her and says, "Hey, sweet cheeks. Who's your daddy?" And the woman responds, "You are. No, seriously, you are. Like seriously. You're my father." This is basically the story Ryan O'Neal told Vanity Fair in their newest issue. Yes, because hitting on a piece at the "love of your life's" funeral isn't skeezy enough, Ryan had to hit on his own daughter and tell the public-at-large about it. While Papa Joe nods in approval and gives a peens up to Ryan, the rest of us are shaking our heads to keep the dry heaves from becoming wet.

Ryan told Vanity Fair (via HuffPo), "I had just put the casket in the hearse and I was watching it drive away when a beautiful blonde woman comes up and embraces me. I said to her, 'You have a drink on you? You have a car?' She said, 'Daddy, it's me--Tatum!' I was just trying to be funny with a strange Swedish woman, and it's my daughter. It's so sick."

Ryan O'Neal touched me inappropriately with that quote. Seriously, you know that "This is your brain on drugs" PSA? They can redo that shit and use a picture of Ryan instead of a pan filled with fried eggs. Ryan O'Neal is fried eggs. I mean, if you can't even recognize your own daughter, it's time to pull the sheets over your head and take a nap. Your booze and bad stuff privileges have been temporarily revoked!

When Vanity Fair asked Tatum about it, she sighed, "That's our relationship in a nutshell. You make of it what you will. It had been a few years since we'd seen each other, and he was always a ladies' man, a bon vivant."

Oh, look! It's a picture of Roseanne dressed up as Hitler in the new issue of Heeb Magazine. Eeesh. If this was anybody else, my eye balls would've already jumped out of their sockets and been on the next Chinatown bus to "Anywhere That Doesn't Have The Internets." But this is Roseanne. If you've spent two quick seconds on her blog, you'll know that she's a proud member of the "Y So Edgy" club. Roseanne's tongue is like a taser. I mean, look at this snippet from the article:

"As we wrap up the shoot, Barr puts her Swastika armband, one of the gingerbread victims and a Polaroid of herself in the costume in a Ziploc bag, making it look like evidence from some bizarre crime scene. She plans on bringing it to her 13-year-old son when she picks him up from school. 'Maybe this will make my kid like me,' she says with a sigh. "

And I think this picture has just become Tom Arnold's screen saver for everything.

VIA Buzzfeed

Mel Gibson and his knocked up Russian toy Oksana Grigorieva were hanging out in the VIP section of at a new club in Los Angeles called Playhouse when a reporter-type from Life & Style tried to get all into his life. Hollyscoop says that the reporter pretended to be a "fan" and took a picture of Mel and OctoSana. Mel's bodyguards immediately asked her if she was Jewish and when she said yes, they grabbed her camera to delete the pictures. I made up the Jewish part, but you know that happened.

The Life & Style reporter is a determined little bitch, because she sent her dude friend to take another picture. That's when the booze in Mel's veins started boiling over and he ripped off the crown of thorns from his head. Mel grabbed the reporter's friend and tore his shirt. That was it. Of course, the dude with the ripped shirt shuffled over to the police station to cry that Mel hurt him. Dude filed a battery report.

Really, it was just a fucking shirt! I've seen ads on Craigslist (you can judge) from bitches who will pay good money for hos to come over and rip their shirts. In my circle, getting your shirt ripped off in the middle of a club is a pick-up line.

And unless you're The Pope, the son of God or have titties made out of sugar, you don't get near Mel. Mel has the passion of the crazy and he's not afraid to show it.

The Keeper of the Unicorn Forest flew into JFK today and was greeted by not your typical Twitard. She doesn't look like Hot Topic just wet farted all over her. She doesn't have a fake "Edward Was Here" tattoo on her neck. She doesn't have a unibrow. And it also doesn't look like a panty milkshake waterfall is running down her leg (this is unconfirmed).

I mean, homegirl probably smells like Pantene, cocoa butter and three kinds of Victoria's Secret body spray, but she actually looks kind of normal? This bitch might be an impostor. RPattz should've tested her ass by asking her to recite every line from the New Moon trailer backwards. If she couldn't do that, bitch is faking it. Or maybe she mistook him for Samantha Ronson?

A little while ago, Tori Spelling invited her mother to her daughter's 1st birthday party. Candy never met her granddaughter, so Tori thought this might be a good time. Candy turned that shit down, because cameras from Tori's reality show were going to be at that party. Candy already queefed about it to the media a zillion times, but she's not done. Oh no. Porky Pig's long-lost twin sissy slithered into her letting writing room and punched out an open rant which she *exclusively* gave to TMZ. Yeah, so the next time your mother tells you off under her breath in front of everyone at Thanksgiving dinner, just be thankful that your mother is not Candy Spelling.

This is the ball of farts the over-aged lunatic wrote. Sprinkle a little Pepto dust in your eyes, CLUE LIGHTS and read on:

EXCLUSIVE TO: TMZ.COM
TO: MIDDLE-AGED REALITY SHOW STARS (LIKE MY DAUGHTER)
FROM: CANDY SPELLING

I Know many middle-aged people have issues about their parents and their upbringing. I did. My memories didn't match all those of my mother, and, funny thing, it's the same way with my daughter.

Life has consequences. What you say is on the record. Other people have feelings.

I have a vested interest in this subject. My daughter, Tori's, two-part season finale revolves around my granddaughter's first birthday party and how she has made what seems like an agonizing decision to invite me.

Cue music. Cue sideways glaces. Clue Lights.

I did get an invitation just in time for the RSVP deadline. I'm sure its delivery will be on next week's episode with some comment about my house or driveway or street or something they won't like. I wonder if that will be spread out over one part or two. Sigh.

A big party wasn't how I envisioned meeting my granddaughter for the first time; but, hey, this is Hollywood, and my grandchildren have become reality show props, too. At the time I emailed "yes," I didn't realize I was being set up for a two-parter, even though it was clear I was being invited to be part of a segment for my daughter's reality show.

Spoiler alert. Don't read this if you plan to sit through an hour of people looking at their watches and saying "she's late." I decided my first meeting with my granddaughter should be on home video, not primetime cable; so I emailed that i would not be attending.

She goes on to blab more, but this is the gist of it.

When even TMZ stops publishing Candy's ridiculousness, she's going to have to shout her rants on Hollywood Blvd. like an authentic crazy person does. I can't wait for that day to arrive.

And this almost made me feel a little bad for Tori, but then I remembered how her soul-bruising acting skills pretty much ruined The House of Yes for me......

I saw this picture of TwiMoms at Comic-Con over at Jezebel and was immediately drawn to the blonde bombshell in her Cache best all the way to the left. Dixie (let's call her that) not only looks like a TwiMom, but she also looks like a WhiteWineSpritzerAtNooni-Mom. If this is what most TwiMoms look like, hand me a fake blood pen and tell me where to sign! I bet Dixie makes a killer and highly potent Magical Forest Margarita.

Below is a clip from Comic-Con of the TwiHards blowing up into a panty pudding fountain while watching a couple of scenes from New Moon. Dixie wasn't there, because she was too busy fighting with the concession boy outside. The concession boy just didn't get it when Dixie told him to only fill her Coke halfway, because she needs to fill the rest with her "medicine."

Let's press the green button on the "Totally Random Couple" generator and see who comes out! Well, what do you know? We have Bai Ling and Lionel Richie! Pop Tarts says that 42-year-old (in alien years) Bai and 60-year-old Lionel had themselves a romantic date at the Viceroy in Santa Monica last Thursday.

A witness-type said that Bai and Lionel "laughed and flirted" with each other the entire night. Yeah, Lionel probably did most of the laughing when Bai told him that she almost cracked her neck bone trying to literally "dance on the ceiling" after listening to his song. You know she tried.

I know you're thinking, "What in the tootsie roll nipple Hell could these two possibly have in common?" But you don't need to have anything in common when it comes to love. I mean, Bai could fall in love with a plastic spork if she spiritually connected with it. And Lionel probably took one peep at her blog and knew he needed more of this in his life. Here's just a taste of Bai's brilliance:

I love the hot sunlight touches my skin.......feels sexy and delightful, like the butterflies wings landed danced then fly away with their gentle kiss, the touch...... Beautiful light wind and of cause the hot burning sad once again burning my body and my desire.......

Speechless but happiness in my heart..........

We all want to take her out for a date now....

You can always count on the sad melting bull dog's asshole that is Joe Jackson to bring the crazy. Joe did just that on Larry King last night. Larry asked Joe about the allegations that he beat Michael Jackson. Joe said he made no mistakes as a father and never beat his son. Surprisingly, the clouds didn't go dark and a giant bolt of lightning did not strike Joe down. No. Joe went on to skip through the fields of crazy by blaming the media and said beating started in the slave days. Then, he said something about how a lot of parents spank their kids.

Come on! Joe knows the difference between a pow pow on the nalgas (that's what mothers call it these days, right?) and a whipping with a switch. Abuelita's everywhere just gave a "HUH?" side-eye to that last part.

When crazy ass Glenn Beck freaks out, my soul laughs....to keep from weeping.

Glenn Beck freaked out on his radio show today when talking about healthcare with a caller named Kathy. I need to send Kathy from Massachusetts a fruit basket, because she is the reason why Glenn brought the crazy again. One minute, Glenn was talking about prostate exams and then he was screeching like a pre-teen. You can picture Glenn's head spinning around while piping hot smoke blows out of his face holes. I'm surprised every socket in the building didn't blow up. You know every straitjacket within a five-mile started making its way towards Glenn.

Skip to the 2:50 mark to get the goods. "GET OFF MY PHONE YOU LITTLE PINHEAD" is the new "WE'LL DO IT LIVE!"

VIA Media Matter

The other night, Jude Law greeted the fans outside of the theater where he's playing Hamlet by bringing his nipples out to say hello. Last night, this stalky-eyed ho wanted an encore performance! Her eyes definitely say "Show Me Da Nipplez." Jude Law was not about to quench her thirst and made sure to not make eye contact. When you make eye contact with a crazy, that's the only sign they need to dry hump your nalgas, burn up your cell phone at all hours and crawl into your bedroom window to watch you sleep. Well played, Jude.

RPattz isn't the only English dude who can bring the horny lunatics to the yard. Jude and RPattz are almost the same! Well, except Jude's magical forest hair doesn't have any unicorns frolicking in it, it isn't made of magic and someone's been chopping through his forest at a record pace. Call Save The Rainforest!