Everyone Can Go Home Now

If Jennifer Aniston had a baby for every time the tabloids said she was having a baby, she'd have more babies than Cabbage Patch Groom Dolls (read: a lot of fucking babies) and a child army to rival all child armies. If the tabloids aren't saying she's got a crying fetus in her womb, they're saying that she's crying in the fetal position inside of Beanie Baby Mountain (aka her safe place), because she got dumped again. But for the past few weeks, Star Magazine, The Enquirer and some others have been saying that Jennifer's dog is breathing a sigh of relief, because now that she's knocked up it no longer has to wear a bonnet while she tucks it into its crib at night. The Daily Mail is now co-signing all of that and their source is telling them that Jennifer is taking a break from barfing out romantic comedy after romantic comedy to be a mother:

"She wants to focus on herself and hopefully becoming a mother. She is thinking of launching her own fashion line which would allow her to spend more time at home."

But the fun haters at Gossip Cop asked Jen's publicist about this and he said her uterus still has a vacancy sign on it and she's not taking a break anytime soon.

Who to believe? On one hand, the tabloids have been nailing me in the head with their "The Last Sign of The Apocalypse: Jennifer Aniston is Having Twins" headlines so hard that I'm starting to believe it. But on the other hand, if Jennifer Aniston was pregnant, she'd put on a bikini bottom made from her latest sonogram scan, stick two positive pregnancy tests over her nipples and then run in front of her arch rival Maddox during one of his staged photo-ops.

We really shouldn't believe that Aniston is knocked up until we see Maddox with a defeated look on his face and a mourning outfit on his body. FYI: In the Brangelina world, a mourning outfit is anything that's not black.

Hit pause on your Anal Assault 19 clip, put down your Jergen's, and pull up your drawers. Masanobu Sato has got this. He's been declared the World's Champion Masturbator! He's even got a trophy that should totally be a bronze casting of a crumpled tissue but isn't. For you horny bitches who worry that your measly three shots a day in the stall at work might constitute a chronic masturbation problem which is going to get your ass fired when you're found out, think again. According to Kotaku, Sato's record is 9 HOURS AND 59 MINUTES. The judge needs to throw out GaGa's former assistant's sad-ass lawsuit and move on to this one, because Sato's dick has a better case! How does one's peen take that much punishment? The poor thing's probably in tiny traction by now with third degree chafing burns. Amnesty International needs to save that cock from its cruel captor causing it to dry-cum over and over again!

Sato has a live-in girlfriend (!!!) who he doesn't have sex with because she's busy making dresses and timing his efforts. And weeping.  Once you watch the vid, you'll note that their apartment is tiny. She must have an umbrella on standby due to his preference for porn. Yes, The World's Champion Masturbator has some hang-ups about sex with live girls. He doesn't even wank to live-action porn. He fucks his fist to hentai (NSFW) because girls are "dirty" and they "smell". Sato's lady and Kate Minor might have some self-esteem issues in common.

Japan is an interesting (read - sucio) place where you can purchase used panties from vending machines, so this is probably no big whoop for them.  One of their gameshows involves dudes racing each other after receiving enemas and riding bikes with the seats INSIDE THEM. How much is airfare to Japan from Boston? Check out Sato's story in the video below (NSFW).

As John Travolta kept wigs off of his head and fries in his mouth on the West Coast, Aretha Franklin showed him how a queen really does it by wearing a wig made of seasoned curly fries on top of her head in NYC. You should be bowing to Queen Aretha's "Goldilocks ate the Three Bears" look the same way her magnificent chichis are bowing down to the halo of golden ringlets hovering carefully above her hairline.

I bet every damn fashion designer showing at Fashion Week is heeling themselves straight in the taint (it can be done with stretching and squatting) for not matching their models' hair to their necklaces the way Aretha did. When supposed "fashion icon" Kate Middleton wears a necklace of mouse fur dipped in dishwater, you know where she it got from. ALL HAIL!

via Mashable (Thanks Kevin)

(In the voice Stefon from SNL's Weekend Update) New York's hottest club is Tuck! Can't find the front door? Just stand still and wait for a caramel covered giraffe named Pennywise the Clown to escort you into the back storage room of a White Castle. This place has everything. It has the black swan Donatella Versace barfed up, shredded Elvis wigs, kidney stones, matronly leopards in ostrich masks, mariachi biker daddies, trannies wrestling in a giant Whoopee cushion full of Cherry Slurpees and glow worm aristocrats. You know it's that thing when a drag queen swallows Ambien so she can make the yawn.

via WOW Report

Cut to White Oprah and Pimp Mama Kris Kardashian sending a cold shiver up Child Protective Services' spine by simultaneously saying: "Damn, why didn't I think of that?"

Botox Mom, the evil cunt monster who horrified many bitches while giving parents of ultra wrinkly children an idea, has confessed that she injected a syringe full of fakery right into the media's forehead. Sheena Upton (stage name: Kerry Campbell) admitted in a sworn declaration to San Francisco's Department of Human Services that she has never given her 8-year-old daughter Botox, never waxed her and never put her in child beauty pageants. Bitch did it all for a quick $200 check!

According to TMZ, shortly after Human Services snatched up Sheena's daughter, she told authorities that The Sun asked her to play the role of an insane mom who freezes her daughter's face to compete in beauty pageants. They paid her $200 to recite the words in a script during a recorded interview. Then, when both Good Morning America and The Insider came knocking, Sheena couldn't turn down the "large amount of cash" they promised to give her for appearing on camera. ABC denies paying Sheena, but says they did pay a broker no more than $10,000 to license pictures of Botox Mom and Botox Baby.

In order to prove that she lied, Sheena took her daughter to UCLA Medical Center so that doctors could prove that the little girl is Botox-free. Sheena declared in the declaration: "After my daughter received a full medical exam, the results indicated that she has not ever received treatments including Botox or other such injections."

The reports from UCLA have been sent over to Human Services. They still haven't given Sheena her daughter back. Human Services has since given Sheena her daughter back.

Munchausen By Proxy Syndrome just sprouted out a famewhore bud. So, Sheena told "shame" to fuck off, banished "dignity" from her thought process and then taught her daughter how to lie into a camera lens for money? The streets of Hollywood are now paved with the sparkling tears of every terrible stage parent who is crying over how beautiful and inspirational this story is. CPS' nightmares is America's dream!

But more importantly, THE SUN MAKES UP STORIES?! You mean to tell me that every story I've read on The Sun about a kangaroo nursing an abandoned puppy was a lie?! I really don't know what to believe anymore. My emotions: they've been fucked with for pageviews.

If your place of employment frowns upon moving images of seizure asses and shopping cart sex, then maybe you should save this little tune for when you go to Walmart later tonight to try on panties over a pair of booty shorts that I haven't seen since the Fly Girl days.

Walmart is already what fuckery prays to when it needs guidance, but Mr. Ghetto has taken it to a whole new level. The Walmart smiley face doesn't know whether to frown or make it rain Louisiana Purchase Cards on Mr. Ghetto and his bootleg NOLA bouncers. I was about to say that the day manager probably issued a clean up on every aisle after this, but ass dust is about the least nastiest thing that has hit Walmart's floors.

Why do I also have a feeling that Walmart won't be mad about this. They're going to hire Mr. Ghetto and his Ghetto-ettes as their new official door greeters. And when Mr. Ghetto's NOLA bouncers are done with that, can they please put on some Swiffer shorts and come bounce their asses against my laptop monitor. This mess has left a film of apocalypse powder on my screen.

P.S. - It's your turn, Target.

via Crunk + Disorderly

Just like that, every Honda Spree is feeling hotter than a motherfucker today, because their title as the biggest two-wheeled joke in the world has been replaced by this Trannyformers disaster. Late last night, Lady Gaga dropped a Photoshopped shit bomb on her little monsters (and sparked a new meme) when she Twatted out the album cover for "Born This Way." This just confirms what I've known all along: bitch gets her tuck jobs at Jiffy Lube.

I can already hear Caca vroom-vroom-vrooming about how this is METAPHORICAL HIGH ART CAMP and only the few chosens ones who have recently gotten an oil and filter change in their creative node will understand this. Stick a banana in her exhaust pipe and tell her gas pumper at AM/PM to start filling her tank with a steady stream of GET OVER YOUR FUCKING SELF (87 octane, of course). I will tell Caca the same thing I told my cousin when she came out of the airbrusher store in the "ghetto mall" wearing a t-shirt with Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck (in Smile Now, Cry Later style) on it: walk in front of me and don't make eye contact with me when we're both in line at Orange Julius.

Some of Gaga's little monsters think that this cover is a sike on a bike and believe that the real cover will rise in 3 days....just like Jesus. I wish I was making this up. But you know, maybe they're right. This cover is definitely missing something (besides a tractor trailer smashing into it):

There, that's somewhat better. It's still not going to pass a smog check, but maybe Paula Deen will pay homage to Thelma & Louise by riding this Cacacyle right off of a cliff. Remember to jump off, Paula. Butter needs you!

via Temporary Insanity

Urban legend says that if Kunty Karl Lagerfeld removes his Chanel eye shields and you stare directly into the ruby crystal globes (filled with the tears of the village children) shoved his sockets, you will immediately shrivel into a platinum thread of dust and join the field of poor unfortunate souls on top of his head. Or you will get really obese and be banished into his dungeon so that he can amuse himself by making fun of you while he nibbles on black crow nails. I must have fallen asleep during that part in class, because I'm not sure which is the case. BUT thankfully, neither of those things happened in Monte Carlo yesterday when Kunty Karl took off his glasses at lunch with his human Baptiste Giabiconi and some other slaves. SOULS DID NOT FREEZE. Crisis averted for now.

And I feel like I've just caught Kunty Karl at his most intimate moment. Without his sunglasses, he doesn't really look like the zombie king of the underworld who can shred the spirit of a newbie model by cackling into the night before her. He sort of looks...vulnerable....with those Charlie Brown eyes of his. Hmmm. This is almost like walking in on your naked abuelita. Let's just pretend like this never happened.

It's a wonderful day on Dlisted when I get to post about the jewel of Israel and one of the most beautiful women in the world Orit Fux. It's just unfortunate that I have to post about her under these circumstances. I mean, do you know how much a silicone nipple costs these days and now it's inside of a beauty-hating SNAKE.

Orit Fux is a modern day Eve, so this whole "Garden of Eden" reenactment does make sense.

via Buzzfeed