Fug

56-year-old Shirley Rae Dieu of Irvine, CA went to Dr. Phil for therapy (mistake number one), but says she left his office more fucked up than when she got there. Yesterday, Shirley filed a lawsuit in Los Angeles claiming that during her therapy session with Dr. Phil in 2007, he molested her left booby, forced her to stare at a live nekkid man and refused to let her leave his Hollywood office. Basically, it sounds like a nightmare directed by David Lynch.

In the documents, Shirley says Dr. Phil brainwashed her by making her watch "tapings depicting her as a different personality other than her own." And about that nekkid dude thing, Shirley says Dr. Phil "forced her to be in the same room with a completely live naked man while he exposed his entire naked body, genitals and all."

Dr. Phil kept her captive in his office, and when she tried to get out of there, his staff stopped her. They also refused to let her sleep or eat. Shirley tells People that another woman is going to join her lawsuit. Shirley is asking for cash money, but the specific amount is not known yet.

Shirley is no stranger to suing a bitch. In 2002, she sued a hospital for malpractice. Two years ago, she also sued a car dealership. According to People, Shirley is acting as her own attorney.

Look at that face. If that face was looking at you while his hand was on your booby, you'd never recover. You would develop instant-cataracts, foam at the mouth uncontrollably and probably live under your backyard deck. I wouldn't be able to talk, let alone file a lawsuit. However, this is Dr. Phil she's talking about, and he's the skeeziest skeeze who ever skeezed, so let's believe it.

And what the fuck with the live (as opposed to dead) nekkid man thing? If that's what Dr. Phil considers therapy, make me a damn appointment.

Karl Lagerfeld and Donatella Versace have nothing to worry about, because it looks like they are still the top constipated zombies in fashion. Blohan's debut collection for Ungaro failed to make some of the critics jizz in their chonies. Blohan didn't actually design any of this shit, she was merely the "artistic adviser." I'm guessing it means she was in charge of cutting the lines and making sure the cokepants could at least store a gram.

WWD called the collection, designed by Estrella Archs, a complete "embarrassment." They also said, "As for the clothes, they looked cheesy and dated, as has often been the case during chez Ungaro’s post-Emanuel revolving door of designers. Hot pink, orange and flashy, with an overworked heart motif relentless in its execution, the collection displayed none of the promised younger side Lohan was supposed to deliver. Nor in a million years would one guess that the lineup was designed by one young woman and 'creative directed' by another. Glitter heart pasties all around, ladies? For Lohan, she’ll weather the criticism, hardly her first or her juiciest, and move on when her contract allows. But Archs has her work cut out for her. Backstage after the show, she said the collection 'had to be designed very quickly.' Perhaps that was the problem. This storied house has been in disarray for years, and though Archs’ debut provided no indication that she’s up to the challenge, she should be given the chance to find out without a younger, non-skilled judge with theoretical veto power hovering about."

You know, I actually like these whore clothes, because it looks like it was something that came out of the vagina of the 1980s. I mean, if a grown-up Rainbow Bright fell on hard times and had to peddle her wares on the ho stroll, she'd wear this shit for sure. Give me pasties, bare titties, almost exposed crotch areas and I'm happeh!

As for Blohan's face/lips situation, there's really nothing more to say. Blohan is making Courtney Love look like a pure teardrop from the eye of a virgin angel. Just hit Ctrl+Alt+BITCHLOOKSBEAT.

The human (that's debatable) version of a Hot Topic bobble head, Marilyn Manson, will have to spend a few days resting in his coffin because he says he has the swine flu. Yeah, better late than never, I guess.

Marilyn said, "So I have officially been diagnosed, by a real doctor, with THE SWINE FLU. I know everyone will suggest that fucking a pig is how this disease was obtained. However, the doctor said, my past choices in women have in no way contributed to me acquiring this mysterious sickness. Unfortunately, I am going to survive.”

I would never suggest that Marilyn got it by boning a pig. However, I would suggest that he got it from doing massive amounts of oral with chocolate covered bacon, chicharrónes, Honey Baked ham and pig pie.

VIA Prefix Magazine

There are some tattoos that you just want to lick and rub your nipples on (ADMIT IT). And there are some that you just want to hiss at and throw holy water at it. Ed Westwick's new tattoos fall under the latter category.

Ed posted pictures of two ENORMOUS ink skidmarks he got on each arm. One is a feather, which I'm guessing means he's light as feather (gay) and stiff as a board (always horny for peen). The other tattoo is a half-nekkid pin-up which is Ed's way of saying "I LOVES VAGINAZ." Yup, doesn't work. Especially when the look on his face is saying, "PUT A DICK ON MY FOREHEAD."

First of all, try to control yourself. I know Phil Spector's mug shot always makes you want to run out to the nearest costume shop, buy a Scrooge mask, boil it for 5 hours, let it cool and then wet hump it until you go raw....but you must resist. Just this time.

So...600-year-old Phil Spector is currently in the chokey for murdering Lana Clarkson. Phil is crying about the conditions and wants them to do something about it! Dude already wears a diaper, so it's no surprise that he's acting like a baby.

Phil is being moved out of the California Substance Abuse Treatment Facility & State Prison after he told officials that he feels like bitches are going to kill his ass in there. When Phil was told they were moving him to the Pleasant Valley State Prison in Coalinga, he freaked out again and said the place is riddled with Valley Fever. Apparently, 16 inmates died at the prison from Valley Fever within the past 4 years. Phil think he's next.

Phil's trophy wife is also whining for him and she told Page Six, "They are sending Phil there to die. He is scared to death. When I saw him on Saturday, he was shaking . . . He's 70 years old and 130 pounds . . . We are trying to appeal over this, but he's been told he has no time. He's already been given his bus pass out of Corcoran."

The prison officials should show Phil what's it's really like to suffer and throw him in a jail cell filled with mirrors. Seriously, I'd rather spend the rest of my life locked in one of the houses on Hoarders than have to look at that face of fugness every single day. Phil would be begging for a lethal injection shot up the ass in no time.

Jon Grosslin's douche express made a stop over in Las Vegas yesterday so that he could host a pool party at Wet Republic at the MGM Grand. Even if MGM paid his ass in Ed Hardy diapers, a pair of CZ studs from Spencer's Gifts and a new potted plastic plant (for Hailey), then they still overpaid. MGM could've just put a lukewarm bottle of Summer's Eve on one of the lounge chairs and it would've been the exact same thing.

IN THIS ECONOMY, a check is a check, but what the hell is next for J.Gross? A rap album (Titled: 99 Problems and Kate is all of them)? A Girls Gone Wild video? Ick Nast. But at least Jon kept his Pillsbury dough moobs under wraps, so that was nice of him.

But enough about Jon and his neverending early mid-life crisis, let's talk about the glamorous beauty that is his mother! Now that Kate's rabid possum isn't around to maul her eyeballs, it's safe for her to come out and douche it up with her son!

Look at Mama Gosselin keeping it sessy in her visor while posing with the fly honeys (copyright: Marky Mark). Speaking of the fly honeys, the one posing with Mama Gosselin in the third thumbnail below is squeezing those thighs for dear life, because I think bitch's little friend is about to steal the spotlight. Tuck game FAIL! Squeeze, bitch, squeeze!

Last night in Los Angeles, the cunty cuntress of cuntery, Heather Mills, launched her new recycled fashion line called Be@one. Heather should've called her line Be@trash or Be@fug, because her clothes Be@SHIT!!

Heather told the audience that all of her pieces were made out of clothes and textiles that normally would be thrown into the trash. Heather said, "The collection consists of women’s and menswear, designed for the assertive, fashionable and eco-conscious person. All the fabrics used in the pieces have been carefully sourced and remodeled into something unique and highly wearable."

Wearable for who exactly? Old timey prostitutes who were just attacked by Jack the Ripper? Or child touching flashers who want to fancy up their look a bit? Seriously, all of these clothes look like the halfway point of a Project Runway challenge.

Heather, stick to being a big cunt and leave the designing to the professionals (like Sheree).

And I don't know about you, but in these pictures, Heather looks like something the Benjamin Button baby of Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag. It must be those maniacal eyes.

Will someone please fetch Anna Wintour a glass of room temperature virgin's blood, because I think she's got a few of her intern's souls stuck in her throat. It's making her throat look obese. Heads will roll for this!

Here's the cryptkeeper of Vogue wearing something that Mrs. Roper queefed up at the premiere of The September Issue in NYC last night. That shit is a documentary about the making of Vogue's mighty September issue. Sienna Miller was there, because her vagina sensed large amounts of married dick in the area. And because she's on the cover of Vogue next month.

Other hos at the premiere were Cassie (who was working a half "The Legend of Billie Jean" buzzcut), Marc Jacobs, his piece, Zac Posen, everyone's favorite lemon-faced beard, Melania Trump, her big sack of money and Diddy.

Squinty Zellweger's former homegirl, Kenny Chesney, is launching his own clothing line called Blue Chair Bay. Kenny told People that his new line, for both dicks and chicks, will be like “that favorite T-shirt that you’ve washed a lot that is kind of sun bleached… your favorite khakis, and your shirt that you’ve had forever."

Kenny says this isn't something he just stamped his name on. When he wasn't performing on stage or trolling the bath houses for a peen that won't quit, Kenny was getting his purdy hands dirty by helping to design this crap. Kenny even named some of the pieces after his favorite butt buddies friends, “I’ve got a shirt that says 'Bob’s Charter' and Bob is a buddy of mine that’s been living in the islands for a long time.”

Kenny didn't mention it, but his collection will also include assless chaps, jean shorts with dick hole cutouts, sleeveless shirts with built-in nipple clamps and puka shell cock rings.

This is the time where we all open our windows and shout "SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, PARIS HILTON" in unison, because maybe our voices will carry throughout the land and break the crusty jizz barriers in Wonky's ears so she can finally get the message. I say this, because Parasite told Extra that Michael Jackson's daughter was named after her:

"My mom and Michael went to high school together and they were best friends since they were 13. So I grew up knowing Michael very well and when he had his daughter, he always loved the name Paris and grew up being an uncle to me. So he asked my mom if it was okay and of course she said yes and I think she's such a beautiful little girl and I'm proud we have the same name."

When whatever is left of her brains finally falls out of her asshole and she shoves it back in her head, she'll also realize that there's cities in France, Texas and Arkansas named Paris too. After her!

Paris, the only thing that will truly be named after you is a strain of the herp.

Here's the delusional one at the premiere of her MTV documentary Paris, Not France last night.