I Can't With You
Above is a video taken at one of Hell's franchises on earth (aka Walmart) of Rollback-hungry sluts going crazy over a discounted Xbox 360. You'd think this Xbox has a Fleshlight attachment that vibrates whenever you shoot a bitch up in Call of Duty 3 (let's call it the XXXbox Special), but nope. This is just America and we'd eat a baby's face off to get 10% off of an Xbox. But some crazed Black Friday soldier already had a plan ready when she stepped into the Walmart in Porter Ranch, CA early this morning to fight over that Xbox. The L.A. Times says that the crazy bitch, who had her two kids with her, started pepper spraying at all the other shoppers so they'd scatter for breathable air while she went for the Xbox. Around 20 people including chirruns got sprayed and one of them had to go to the hospital. The LAPD says the pepper-spraying crazy is currently on the loose and they're looking at surveillance video to try to find her.
Okay, I just have to laugh at this mess, because the image of some insane Black Friday terrorist attacking her rivals with pepper spray should replace all George Washington as the new face of the $1 bill. That's America! And I'm sure she just won a new job as the head of security at UC Davis.
Meanwhile, at another Walmart, a tornado of lunacy erupted over $2 waffle makers that most of those crazies will use twice. You know, I was about to say this clip is about as disgustingly gross as watching a bunch of maggots slithering on a piece of shit in fast motion, but then my eyes were blessed by the butt crack beauty in the blue t-shirt. Now, THAT should be the new face of the $1 bill.
All in all, it's been a pretty tame Black Eye Friday so far. As far as I know, nobody's death certificate reads "Death by Black Friday Walmart Tramping" yet, but the day is still young. I'm sure the Black Friday-ers are recharging their crazy at Cinnabon and will be ready to go for round two soon. USA! USA!
Lindsay Lohan might be able to get a corner booth at the IHOP on Santa Monica at 3am on a weekday and she might be able to get the middle table at the methadone clinic cafeteria, but her days of dropping her name to get into A-list parties jumped into the grave with her career a long time ago. Bitch still thinks she's a glittering star in the universe that is Hollywood when the fact is that she's a dusty glow-in-the-dark ceiling star that fell to the carpet and no longer glows in the dark. But ho doesn't know that, because Page Six says that she showed up to the party for J. Edgar at the Roosevelt Hotel on Thursday night and the dude at the door hit her with a giant DEEEEEE-NIEEEEEED at first. The line of people behind her probably broke the record for the most THIS BITCH head shakes in one place at the same time.
LiLo is eternally the little cokey who could, because the source says not having an ounce of dignity paid off and she was able to beg her way in. The source went on to say this shit:
“Lindsay was arguing with the security to let her in, dropping every celebrity’s name to get in. She could be heard saying, ‘I have to go and see Leo.’
Eventually they let her in, but she made everybody uncomfortable. She was aggressive and random, storming around. She tried to get to Leo, but he was surrounded by his security and a posse of his friends.
Clint and Leo and Dustin Lance Black were talking, and Lindsay sent one of her aides over, demanding to get a photo with them, but security shooed them away.”
LiLo's rep is kept on a steady diet of delusion-tinis by White Oprah, so when asked for a comment they said, “She did not crash, she was invited by a guest who attended the event. I am not aware of her asking for photos with Leo or Clint. She was never asked to leave.”
My first thought about LiLo crashing a party and trying to scoot up to Leonardo DiCatchAHo was that the whole thing is pathetic wrapped in sad wrapped in tragic wrapped in another thick layer of pathetic, but then I really thought about. The two whiskeys I drank last night I paid for using cash from my own wallet. The dozens of whiskeys LiLo probably shoved down her booze hole came from an open bar and I bet you she snatched a few of the bartender's tips before making her way out. So being a shameless mess pays off sometimes.
Note to Hollywood: If you want to keep LiLo out of your parties, have a cash bar only. Bitch is allergic to those.
The Beliebers are sharpening their rattles into shanks, asking their parents to get them a PlaySkool gat for Christmas and turning grade school poems into adorable death threats, because one of their own has gone rogue by claiming that Justin Bieber knocked her up during 30-second not-so-sexy times in a backstage bathroom at one of his concerts. Buzzfeed put together the best death threat Tweets made by a bunch of Beliebers who really need a chancleta-wielding abuelita in their lives. Reading those Tweets is the best birth control, because who wants their child to join these baby-worshiping crazies as the future of humanity? My parts don't even make ovaries and I'm about to shove an old school Depo Provera syringe up my asshole just in case. Moving on....
I guess Mariah Yeater's 3-month-old son doesn't have a Hasbro tag sticking out of his big toe and a preliminary DNA test could not confirm or deny that he's half teddy bear, because her lawyers still want Justin Bieber to submit a sample. Lawyers for the 20-year-old crazy ho (seen in a bathroom and bedroom photo shoot below) tell Radar that they have every reason to believe that The Lesbeaver is the father of her child and the only way to prove this is with DNA. Justin's lawyers deny that he ever even met her and he's filing his own lawsuit against her for defamation. But Mariah's pepaw, Eddie Markhouse, tells The NYDN that his granddaughter only does underage yodeling fetuses and she does not do lie-telling.
“I don’t know the whole story. But, from what I understood, she met him at a concert and he sent two security guards down off of the stage to bring her backstage to meet him. She said they partied, had some drinks and they indulged in sex … She’s basically an honest good person. She’s got a big heart. She’s a good kid and she loves this baby.”
Oh, I believe that Mariah feels nothing but love for her baby. If I had a child that I loved, I'd want to tell him that he was made when a drunk superstar toddler humped on me for half a minute in the dirty stall of some bathroom. Then I'd tell my baby that I didn't sue his father for the money. I did it for the legal right to use his last name on the birth certificate. I mean, if Justin is the father, then Mariah's baby's last name will be: Yeater-Bieber. YEATER FUCKING BIEBER! Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner for the best hyphenated last name ever. Think about it. Grab your tongue and say Yeater-Bieber really fast. EAT. HER. BEAVER.
You are definitely not a loving and caring mother if you keep your child from having a last name like that.
Some things you just can't find in a Lonely Planet travel guide. Here's one of those things: In the Zimbabwe town of Zvishavane exists the wrong stuff that when snorted or smoked causes your brain to seep out the kind of fuckery-coated hallucinations that not even Alan Ball could dream up. That is one of my only explanations for why this happened.
The Sun (of course) reports that a 28-year-old nasty ass fucker named Sunday Moyo (quick side whisper: that's a really good drag name) was arrested on Monday in Zvishavane after he was caught doing a donkey the way no bitch should do a donkey without getting permission from said donkey first. The police found Sunday performing a sex act on the donkey who was lying on the floor while tied to a tree. Earth to PETA, stop photographing F-list titties and get on this. Shit.
Sunday was charged with bestiality and the court ordered him to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. Why must his head be analyzed by mental health professionals, you ask? Well, first of all, he raped a donkey. Second of all, the power of crazy was with him in full force when he told the court the reason for why he fucked a donkey:
"Your worship, I only came to know that I was being intimate with a donkey when I got arrested.
I had hired a prostitute and paid US$20 for the service at Down Town nightclub, and I don't know how she then became a donkey. I think I am also a donkey. I do not know what happened when I left the bar, but I am seriously in love with the donkey."
Why do I have a feeling that this same speech came out of Brenda Song's mouth when her mother asked her why she was marrying Trace Cyrus?
In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, 6-year-old-looking Justin Bieber gave his 19-year-old scissor sister Selena Gomez a titty check at a hockey game in Winnipeg over the weekend. Or maybe he's grabbing at hers while wishfully dreaming about the day that his finally come in. Then The Lesbeaver and Selena put everybody in that VIP box on some kind of list when they kissed on each other while 69-ing through their jerseys.
Okay, I was 12 once a million years ago, so I understand that kids do this kind of shit when their hormones tell them they're in love, but DAMN. Take this shit away from public eyes. This is why I told my mother never to throw away that empty refrigerator box in the garage. Not because I needed it for a science project, but because I needed it to make out in. Duh. Get an empty refrigerator box, Selena!
That titty grabbing picture is about as not right as not right can be. It's like reverse Pedophilia. And you know how I feel about piercing a baby's ears. Arrest them! Arrest their parents! Arrest us for looking at this! Arrest everybody!
Judge Stephanie Saunter told Lindsay Lohan in court yesterday that she has to complete at least 16 hours of community service in the morgue before her next hearing on November 2nd or else! TMZ says that LiLo told friends that she's really serious about her community service this time and she's going to go to the morgue every single day until her hearing to prove to the judge that all those other 5 million times she fucked up was just a fluke. LiLo was supposed to show up to the morgue at 8am today and since this is Lindsay Lohan I'm blogging about, you know what happened next.
LiLo's assistant called the morgue and told them she was going to be 10 minutes late. When 8:10 hit the clock, the morgue was still LiLo-less. At one point, a morgue worker thought they spotted her lying on a gurney, but when he threw an 8-ball at the floor, it didn't move. Not LiLo. But fuck up's greatest ambassador finally sashayed in at 8:40, but was quickly shut down and turned away for being late. LiLo immediately spread her cheeks, pulled an excuse out of her ass and threw it at her Twitter page:
With all of the stress and pressure from yesterday and today, I've never been so happy to go to therapy!!!! Also, I'm sorry for the confusion that I may of caused to those at the Coroner's office. Won't happen again, now I know where to go! Thank you for your help.
LiLo's rep said that she couldn't find the entrance and all of the media chaos made things confusing for her. The Coroner's office let the Probation Department know that she was late who in turn told Judge Stephanie. LiLo wasn't required to be at the morgue today, but TMZ seems to think that if she wants to show the judge that she's not thumbing her nose at authority, this is not how she should do it. I think we're way past the point of LiLo "thumbing her nose at authority." At this point, Blohan has grabbed authority by its nuts, chopped it into a fine powder and used her thumb to snort it up.
But I do love that this dumb bitch is trying to say that she couldn't find the front door for 40 minutes. If LiLo really wants to get to the morgue tomorrow, she just needs to put on the same make-up she put on yesterday (see above), call an ambulance, lay down on her living room floor and then wait for them to take here there directly!
Next week: WORLD EXCLUSIVE! IT'S OVER! Kingston's first heartbreak after Shiloh refuses to smell his booger. (True story: That's the reason why my last relationship ended.)
Some doctors might say that I burned away most of my brain cells from watching every season of Footballers Wives at least 12 times and from snorting the insides of a Dexatrim pill as a dare once. But the truth is that they all ate themselves out of madness from working retail during holiday times and listening to the same 15 damn stupid Christmas songs over and over again.
This song, that is already #1 on iTunes, will join the evil army of yuletide melody terrorists this holiday shopping season. It's Jason Mraz burping repeatedly as a lesbian beaver from up north breathes out mistletoe(and cameltoe)-killing note after mistletoe-killing note. It will ruin your holidays. It will also be the reason why you'll have no gifts to give to your loved ones this year. Every time this mess comes on in a store, you'll have no choice but to punch everything and everyone in the aisles as you run out of there to crash head first into the nearest tree. Your loved ones will understand. It's a natural tick.
Also, note to Justin Bieber: When the shawty you're calling a shawty is about as shawty as you, you shouldn't call her a shawty. You should call her an astallasme-ey, or something.
via The Hairpin
This is Brooklyn-based performance artist Marni Kotak and I know the real story here should be about how she's committing a NOT RIGHT by sitting on the mall Easter Bunny's favorite chair, but that's not what we're here for. Marni is about to fill the air of a Bushwick art gallery with the musty scent of labor shits, pussy sweat, birth blood and the PBR that the art hipsters will be sipping on as they watch her push an entire baby out of her vagina as part of her newest performance art piece. Placenta kabobs and amniotic fluid-tinis will be served afterward, so come with an empty stomach. Or you can just nibble on any flying birthing bits that get stuck in your mohair cardigan.
The Microscope Gallery has already set up a birthing room with a birthing pool and Marni will stay there during business hours until the time comes for her to push out her child. The father of Marni's child, her midwife and who ever wants to see her coochie get ripped apart live will watch the birth. The newest gift to the art world will be born in a few weeks and Marni had this to say about the piece that should really be titled: WHAT BILLIONS OF WOMEN HAVE DONE BEFORE THIS CRAZY HO.
“I hope that people will see that human life itself is the most profound work of art, and that therefore giving birth, the greatest expression of life, is the highest form of art.
I have decided to do this because I want to show people that, as in my previous performances, real life is the best performance art. I wouldn’t say that I am scared to do this, because I have a good support team: my midwife, doula and wonderful husband,” she said. “Of course, I am a bit nervous about the whole process of giving birth and having a child, and like every mother, I am hoping that everything goes smoothly.
“But I am no more worried than I would be if I were having the baby at home or in a hospital.”
After the baby of Baby X, Marni will start another performance art piece called "Raising of Baby X."
If this crazy wants people to see her snatch turn inside/out while giving birth and people are willing to pay, then I say push on push on. It's a tax-write off and if she drops a caca during labor, I'm sure it will get its own exhibit at the Whitney.
And note to Beyonce if she wants to shut down the conspiracy theorists: You're due in February. The Grammys are on February 12th. You know what to do.
via Page Six
Oh look, it's a plastic horse's ass on a plastic horse's ass.
Seen here in Brooklyn today riding on a horse's back in front of the cameras instead of riding on horse dick in front of the cameras for a change, the head ho of Pimp Mama Kris' whore ring tells Australia's InStyle magazine (via Daily Mail) that she and her punching bag of dumb husband only filmed their commitment ceremony to Lucifer, because if she didn't she'd disappoint all of her "fans."
Kim didn't do it for the millions of dollars or because she can't squirt out a wet queef without a 5-person camera crew focused on her snatch. Nope, not at all. When InStyle asked Kim why she chose to televise her wedding, she barked at 4 assistants to spread her ass cheeks apart and she pushed this answer out of her bullshit hole:
"That was a really big discussion, we took weeks to decide if we were going to film it or not, but I felt like my fans - everyone that has gone on this journey with me, seeing different relationships that I've been in - would feel cheated if I didn't film it. It was something that Kris and I were okay with, and the beauty of it is we get to edit it. It [will be] great to look back at that and see this time in our lives."
Yes, I'm sure the really big, three-week long discussion went something like this:
E! Executive: We'll pay $13 million and we'll give you five hours of airtime.
People Editor: We'll give you $2.5 million for the pictures, Kim.
Pimp Mama Kris & Kim: DONE!
Kris: Err. You're Kim? I thought you were Kourtney. Heh, that's funny. Did anybody tell you that your mom looks like the dude from Three's Company? Oh, look the eyes on those 4 dudes on horses riding towards us are so sparkly. I like sparkly..."
No, I'm joking. The conversation didn't even last that long. Kim really needs to stop acting like she didn't have her morals surgically removed to make way for silicone butt bags filled with Satan's coagulated blood. Because in the Kuntrashian world (which the earth revolves around, obviously), first comes an offer from E!, then comes a check from People, then comes a contract from Kris Humphries signing away all right to profits of the sex tape that will leak a day before their divorced is announced, and then comes a completely staged marriage! That's the equation for love Kuntrashian-style.