Why Are You Doing This To Us?
Not only will this video serve as an answer to the octuplets' question: "Why does our ball pit smell like rotten chili con queso, anus tears and desperation?" But it will also be used in high school sex education classes to warn students that if they get knocked up without the means to support their child, this is the low-budget shit they might have to do to put diapers on asses.
My problem with this wreck from TMZ isn't that OctoMom is starring in a fetish video with radio personality Tattoo. It's that she's starring in a poorly produced one! Did the octuplets sit on each other's shoulders and record this wreck with the VHS camcorder my mom refuses to throw out ("It's an antique!" - my mom)? Is this the real sequel to Paranormal Activity? Not only that, but OctoMom whips a trick like my 8-year-old self trying to throw a ball without crossing the line during the worst dodgeball game ever. I can almost hear a wimpy "uh" come out of her mouth as she dreadfully tries to crack that whip. Awful.
Put some real feeling into that shit, OctoMom! Picture Tattoo as your life choices and whip the fuckery right out of him. I swear, if we had to pick dominatrix teams, OctoMom's ass would be the last one chosen.
And if this clip isn't just a small piece of a longer one, how is Octo making money from this? Did TMZ pay for it? Is this viral marketing for Pampers? Octo is already embarrassing her kids with her whack ass whipping skills, so I hope she's not bringing more shame upon them by not collecting a check for this mess.
That story you read about OctoMom whipping a dude in a diaper for money wasn't a nightmare your imagination pushed out while you were passed out from drinking too many Pedialyte and vodkas. It is a true story and now TMZ has posted a gallery of stills from the fetish video shot in her children's playroom. You may be cursing George Eastman's name for indirectly helping to bring this gross mess to your eyeballs, but look on the bright side. If you're ever feeling embarrassed about the nasty, twisted, kinky sex shit you get off on, you can tell yourself that it could be worse. You could be the one perv who is licking their fingers and tapping their genitals to OctoMom whipping a jumbo-sized Chuy Bravo riding on her kids' toy pony.
But you know, I can't judge Octo. Sometimes when IVF hands you 14 children, you have to put on a black corset and whip a grown man in a diaper to feed them.
Oh, and one more thing....is that a TONY DANZA TATTOO on baby dude's body? Okay, I think we just found the one perv who is licking their fingers to this. Mona Robinson's office door is closed for a reason!
While most of us were digging for Indian clay in the sandbox during recess, Ke$ha was off writing her second grade book report on the Kama Sutra, because bitch claims she knew EVERYTHING about sex before she was 7. Yeah, I'm sure that book report earned her two golden boot medals on her teacher's mountain of achievement poster. The bumper sticker on her mom's car read: "Proud parent of a 7-year-old Sue Johanson."
Ke$ha bragged about this elementary school fuckery to The London Times on Sunday (via NYDN):
"I knew everything about sex before I was even 7. My mom left me at home when I was 14 with a credit card and a box of condoms and the keys to the car and said, 'Don't get pregnant and don't drink and drive. I had to be responsible for myself."
KeShift4ha is not only full of John Travolta's features, but she's also full of shit too. I mean, I'm at least 4 years older than 7 mentally, I could probably correctly answer at least 90% of the clues in Jeopardy's "Slut Shit" category, and I'm still learning new things about sex. That Fraggle Rock dumpster diver needs to stop.
Hopefully, Ke$ha's mom is still leaving a box of condoms on the kitchen counter....along with a bottle of RID and Hazmat-made bar soap.
Don't you constantly ask yourself every single day how esteemed actress/lifestyle deity/country music superstar/perfect mother/10-star gourmet chef/fashion icon/insufferable cunt snob Gwyneth Paltrow does it? Fishsticks somehow manages to successfully conquer a morning filled with: getting Nectarine and Torah to school, feeding her soul to the serpent beast that is Tracy Anderson, picking out the perfect $200 tea towels to go in the service kitchen, yelling at the east wing maid for starching the robe given to her by the Dalai Lama, recording a country song that will debut at #1 as soon as she puts her breath on the mic and writing a soon-to-be award-winning piece for GOOP. And she does all of this while her head is shoved up her ass! Clap. Clap. Clap.
I thought my mornings were hectic and all I have to do is Fabreze the pee spot I left on my bed and wipe the dried-up tears off my face with a Clorox Wipe.
In this week's edition of Perfect Rich White Woman Weekly, Fishsticks and two of her friends (Juliet de Baubigny and Stella McCartney) document a day in the life of a working mother. Yup, THIS BITCH just doesn't know. You can read the entire mess over at GOOP, but here's a few dingles. Read it while farting out the chorus to "I'm Every Woman."
Got Apple all fed and dressed in her uniform and ready to go but no sign nor sight of Moses at 8 am and we have to be out of the house by 8:20. I went up to arouse the little man from slumber and he quite happily got up and crawled into my arms. We got downstairs and I made him a quick breakfast of eggs and toast followed by a spoonful of lemon flavored flax oil that I try to remember to give them both every morning.
When all was well I dodged off as fast as possible but was still late to the 9 am workout. Did dance aerobics for 45 minutes then all of the butt lifts and the like. Rushed upstairs to have a shower, doing my post workout stretch while the conditioner was doing its magic on my hair to combine activities/save time.
Got home and had a fitting with super stylist Elizabeth Saltzman for the upcoming Nashville trip (what to wear, what to wear?) from 1-2. This is my 4th out of 5 fittings for this trip. We tried on a myriad of dresses and outfits, and I had b.o. by the end of it from wrestling with all of those dresses.
At 4pm, my weekly owners' and managers' call takes place for the Tracy Anderson Method with our brilliant CEO Stephanie Stahl taking the lead. I basically listen and try to learn. Kiddies burst through the door and play in my office while I finish up, just drawing and hanging out and of course playing Plants vs Zombies on the iPad, their obsession that I have to limit like crazy! What up, gamers. Then downstairs to make cupcakes for tomorrow’s bake sale. It is ‘Bonfire night’ in the UK tomorrow and the bake sale is to celebrate and to raise money for charity. We decide on vanilla cupcakes with pink icing and green icing (from Tate’s Bakeshop cookbook with the icing from American Desserts cookbook).
The kids indulge in a super sugary cupcake before bed but I don’t feel too bad because they had a brown rice stir fry for dinner with baked sweet potato on the side. It’s all about balance! My night to lay with Mosey so I tuck Apple in, say a prayer and go into Mosey's room for a story, foot massage and quiet time. As soon as all was quiet, I rushed downstairs to grab a blazer and some blush and flung myself in the car for girls night.
Fishy also lists a few tips for saving time which include:
1. Schedule your time well. When I know what I am doing from hour to hour I get more done. Write it all in the day’s calendar, what you want to accomplish and in what time frame.
3. I cook a lot, especially on the weekends, so I like to plan a rough menu for the whole weekend and get the food in on Friday. Obviously stores and websites that deliver make this a dream. In London I use Ocado. Also James Knight, my favorite fishmonger, will deliver. Having all of the ingredients means I'm prepared even when I don't think I am.
4. I always lay the kids uniforms and school things out the night before once they are asleep. When it’s quiet I can check the "kid list" for show and tell items to bring in, consent forms, ballet kit, etc, so that the morning is less of a scramble.
But Fishy missed a very important tip: Make sure you come flying out of a wealthy lady's vagina at birth (or marry a millionaire), so that later on in life you can hire a team of nannies to take care of your kids while you write ALL THESE FUCKING LISTS OUT.
And it's a real shame that working mothers can't read Fishy's pearls of wisdom since they are too busy working a fucking second job to put generic peanut butter on the table.
Christmas is not only the time of year where you tell your cousin that her BO is making it hard for you to swallow a fork full of carrots and rice (You'll blame it all on the UGH NOG the next day), it's also the time of year where ladies bring their inner HO HO HOOOO out by dressing like a low down dirty hooker slut version of Father Christmas! Christmas is basically winter's answer to Slutoween. Slutmas!
Case in point: above is a picture LeAnn Rimes proudly Twatted of herself wearing the finest holiday ho suit Frederick's of Hollywood has to offer while posing with a bunch of elves. Well, the weather outside is frightful and so is this damn picture. I'm sorry, but LeAnn is trying hard to give us "don't you want this under your mistletoe" sexyface, but she looks more like what a park ranger might see when he finds a methed-out Dasher slumped over an electrical fence. Those elves ate her damn eyes!
And if LeAnn insists on dressing like a trampy Santa, she can at least do it with some class and elegance. I mean, her dress has a black ribbon AND a white ribbon in it. TACKY! If LeAnn was a true lady of refinement and grace, she would've went with something like this:
You know that's Mrs. Claus' Christmas morning outfit.
For two seconds there, Jared Leto was letting his natural hotness simmer and wasn't trying to ruin it by adding unnecessary spices from the fuckery jar. Well, that didn't last long, because here he is in London the other day waging another battle against his hotness.
Jared is looking like a Q-tip used for Smurfette's pap smear. WHY! WHY! WHY! You know, I'm fine with Jared's head resembling one of Mel Gibson's frustrated blue balls, but he took that shit too far by matching his hair with his shoes and luggage. And since Jared is obviously serious about his blue nowadays, his dick bush is probably the exact shade of the Blue's Clues dog's taint.
Quick Update: Oh, shit. My ass just noticed that Jared's hair is also the color of the nipple (aka headline) on every Dlisted post. Okay, I'll try to warm up to it.
File this under: THE STORY OF THE YEAR! Jay Kay of Jamiroquai and Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols were sitting next to each other in business class on a flight to Australia when shit went down. Or should I say, when shit went out in cloud form. Jay Kay tells The Sun that the foul, dirty, disgusting, throat-choking, lash-singe-ing farts that came out of Johnny Rotten made the oxygen masks shake and the flight attendants stick their heads out of the emergency door for fresh air. According to Jay Kay, Johnny Rotten's a-hole basically bombed out a terrorist threat.
"He is a fucking nuisance. I was seated next to him on a flight and the whole trip he just kept farting. It was totally foul.
He kept saying, 'Oh, that wasn't me' or, 'The meal smells a bit off, don't you think?' He drove me insane."
Jay Kay says that he would rather endure the torture of coach than breathe in Johnny Rotten's butt sneezes again:
"At least I'd be able to breathe a bit. They banned smoking in the air and they should ban farting."
What does Jay Kay expect Johnny Rotten to smell like? Bunnies made from gardenias bouncing around in baby powder?! It's Johnny Rotten! I'd file a complaint if he didn't inflate the under seat life vests with his farts. I really hope that Johnny Rotten's gas follows Jay Kay around for the rest of his days, because bitch is funny when he gets angry over farts.
No, this is not a picture of Courtney Love assuming the position for a TSA pat down at the airport. It's Courtney Love once again abusing an innocent chair by posing on top of it with her bare ham hocks out! The rusty wooden barrel that holds memories in Courtney's brain must have burned down again, because a couple of months ago she kissed goodbye to Twatter after she accidentally singed our retinas when she posted a half-nekkid pictures of herself. And now she's back to putting her parts on display. Something tells me that the center of your dinner table is going to look just like this at Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday. I bet she queefs stale Stove Top.
Okay, I need to stop and you need to see the full version of this mess. Make the sign of the cross before you jump, because CLove is bringing religious ceremony into this. JUMP!
Bristol Palin, a girl who is only famous for birthing out a baby, and The Situation, an asshole who is only famous for birthing out new and exciting kinds of STDs, joined forces to shoot a pro-abstinence PSA. Clear their shelves, because a million more acting awards are coming their way!
Strangely enough, they didn't convince me to not put my wet parts on hard parts, but they are making a strong case for abstaining from anything with moving and talking pictures on it so you don't have to experience a mess like this again!
And sadly, it's also making me want to abstain from using the word SITUATION. I guess we can call it an "eyebrow case" from now on. DAMN THEM!
The Duggar clan gathered in the living room of their Arkansas compound early this morning to make a "surprise" announcement on Today. That "surprise" comes complete with two eye rolls, a lip smack and a "GUUUUURL, PLEASE" from Aunt Bunny, because the Duggars announcing that they are spawning again is the opposite of shocking. The good news is that we don't have to run into our bomb shelters to prepare ourselves for the moment Michelle Duggar's uterus dives head first down her evacuation slide to seek revenge on humanity by devouring our young, because she's not the one who is pregnant....yet. Michelle's daughter-in-law Anna is. Phew.
Josh Duggar, the eldest Duggar, and his wife Anna (both 22-years-old) say that she will give birth to their second baby next June. The happy news comes right after sad news. Anna suffered a miscarriage this past summer. Josh told Meredith, "My parents went through a miscarriage right after they had me. Many people walk through this experience and it is very emotional. We were looking forward to having our baby and losing that baby was really rough."
Anna and Josh's daughter Mackynzie turned 1 last month. They aren't sure whether or not they are going to pick up Jim Bob and Michelle's tradition by using the same letter to name all their chirruns. Yeah, right. Don't break your water on my head and tell me it's raining, Anna! Anna is already staking her claim as a Michelle Duggar clone by turning her lady parts into a baby popping machine, so of course all her future 50 millions kids will have names that begin with the letter M.
Can they just please close their brains to the name MICHAEL. There's too many Michaels flooding the world and we need to be cut off. I'm getting whiplash like Willow Smith from turning my neck around every time I hear my name out in public. And throwing a Y in there doesn't change anything. Mykull is still counts as Michael, etc....
I'm sure the Duggars can hear my scream since all of them are READING MY MIND when I stare into their eyes in the clip above. Keep your eyes down!