I Can't With You
Stop me if you've heard this before, crazy bitch of all crazy bitches Courtney Love is freaking out over absolutely nothing again. The Muppets do a cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" in their newest movie and they paid for that shit as well as getting permission from Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic. But the flaming hobo trash can in Courtney's head has sparked out the idea that The Muppets have "raped" the memory of Kurt Cobain by bastardizing one of his songs without getting her permission. Looks like Courtney is doing big things with that certificate she got from Kim Novak's Night School of Overreacting.
TMZ says that smoking wallpaper glue out of an incense holder must have burned the memory box in Courtney's brain, because she gave a music company called Primary Wave the exclusive rights to distribute all of Nirvana's catalog. The producers of The Muppets paid Primary Wave who dropped a percentage into Courtney and Frances Bean's hands.
Beaker is a meth head who desperately needs some Frizze Ease in his life, but a rapist he is not. Courtney better watch it. The Muppets are highly trained detectives and I doubt she wants them sniffing into the mysterious death of Kurt Cobain. If Courtney truly cares about crimes against Nirvanity, she'd watch last night's The Voice. Two "hyena in heat" impersonators dragged "Heart-Shaped Box" out into the alley and slowly strangled the life out of it with the ropes of shit that came out of their mouths. Call the WAHMBULANCE on that, Court!
Some paps obviously need more education in the subject of superstar beauty, because a bunch of them mistook the naturally beautiful international star Debbie Harry for a freckled bag of hardened silicone in a gutter ass wig.
Debbie Harry and Lindsay Lohan are both staying at The Mercer Hotel in NYC, and the paps started screaming the latter's name when the former came sashaying out. This is Debbie Fucking Harry! Show some respect! Does Debbie Harry's lips look like two shellacked uncooked sausage links? No. Does Debbie Harry have two plastic testicle cheeks sandwiching her nose? No. Does Debbie Harry smell like burnt Silly Putty, Red Bull, wet cigarettes and a bull's colostomy bag? Not that I know of, but still. If paps weren't sure, they should've thrown a Ziploc bag full of sea jasper rocks into the street and if she ran after it, then it's LiLo. Mistaking Debbie Harry for Lindsay Lohan is like mistaking a spring daisy for a dusty plastic flower lying on a dirty linoleum tile in the clearance section of a Big Lots. It's truly a sad day when entertainment professionals make mistakes like this.
If I see a clip of the paps screaming Lindsay Lohan's name as Edgar Winter walks out of a hotel, I'm totally going to find a way to get all those not knowing bitches a full scholarship ride to Education Connection.
As your ass already knows, 12 advertisers of Rush Limbaugh's radio show dropped like a dick coming off of Viagra after he called Georgetown student Sandra Fluke a slut and prostitute for testifying before congress (after she was denied the first time) that she thinks insurance companies and schools need to include birth control in their drug plans. Just like Rush, noted dumb fuck Patricia Heaton thought Sandra Fluke was saying that taxpayers should pay for birth control, which personally I wouldn't mind. If birth control was free and you could easily get it all sorts of places including the bar, humanity wouldn't be shaking in fear over the spawn of Snookicoming at us in a few months. But that's just me, and Patricia Heaton obviously disagrees with this, because bitch let out a steaming pile of CRAZY on her Twitter last week. Patricia went after Sandra Fluke and while doing so, offered up some shitty money-saving tips. You can thank Aunt Patty later:
After a whole lot of shit came at Patricia for Tweeting this mess, she shut down her account before opening it back up a few days later to apologize to Sandra Fluke for not showing "Christ's love." Okay, but Patricia also needs to apologize to us sluts for giving us some bunk ass money-saving tips. I mean, turn your panties inside/out so you only have to do laundry every 2 weeks and will have enough money to buy birth control? Everybody knows that sluts don't wear panties! That tip does not apply to us. Chonies just get in the way. That's why my slut uniform is a jumpsuit with booties sewn into the legs. One piece to slip off and one piece to slip on.
Also, is Patricia serious with that whole "stop buying toothpaste and soap so no one will want to sleep with you" thing. Stupid bitch is just embarrassing herself now. Ho has obviously never heard of these two words: GERARD BUTLER! That slut has taint mold for days and yet he still gets heaping amounts of ass. Oh Patricia, you obviously need more sluts in your life.
Have you seen this bitch Purity Bear before? Purity Bear is this total cock-blocking teddy bear who shows up in the heads of young people right when they're about to freak their way to sin. This bitch will ruin your fuck times faster than a case of the runs. Well, Purity Bear is back and this time she's getting into the head of a girl whose date wants to stain the backseat of his minivan if you know what he means. Purity Bear tells the girl that her chocha is basically pizza and she's the box, or something.
You know, that girl is a dumb bitch for listening to Purity Bear. There's something not right about that bear. That bear obviously has ulterior motives. Purity Bear wasn't trying to save that girl from making a mistake she'll later regret. Purity Bear was trying to get the peen for her own whore self. I bet that three seconds after virgin blondie went inside, Purity Bear sucked her man's dick so hard that his cardigan blew off his body. Purity Bear is more like Slut Bear!
And 3/3 of us know that Purity Bear is a shady whore.
Does getting power fucked into a neck brace sound like a good time to you? If it does, then please call up David Cronenberg, because I'm sure he'll want to turn your sucio fantasies into a movie. Then, take advice of those crazies at PETA and get with a vegan, because only grazing on grass turns a trick into a whiplash-giving, pussy-chaffing, crotch-breaking, concussion-inflicting violent hump machine.
Oh, PETA, if you're trying to make us miss the Photoshopped titties of E-listers in your ads, then it's working.
Just when I was starting to forget that once upon a gross Billy Bob Thornton and Angie Jolie poured grenadine syrup into a vial necklace to make all of us think that they are so crazy that they fucked the blood out of each other, he has to barf it up all over again. Billy Bob is at the Berlin International Film Festival promoting his new movie Jayne Mansfield's Car (???) and he talked about the screenplay he's working on with his writing partner right now. And Then We Drove is some movie about a dude who goes on a road trip, picks up a hitchhiking ho along the way, falls in love with her and then makes millions of people eye vomit their retinas off by groping on each other at movie premieres.
The producer of And Then We Drove, Alexander Rodnyansky, tells Variety that the movie was sort of inspired by Billy Bob's marriage to St. Angie. They'll start shooting all around the West Coast as soon as the script is done.
I'm all for Billy Bob doing a Kalifornia meets Fear & Loathing movie starring Jennifer Aniston as Angelina (please do this, Billy Bob), but it's obvious that his next movie should be a feature film version of Lazy Town and he should play the villain. Billy Bob's second face was born at the Botox needle just to play that role.
What did you do, Billy Bob? To your face! From the the hairy tooth under his lip to his frozen forehead to the beaver carcass on his head... I can't. Billy Bob looks like a Botoxed otter who tried to escape the zoo by dressing in disguise as John Travolta. I swear, the Glade candle on my coffee table can make more facial expressions than Billy Bob can.
Mark February 12, 2012 as the day our Earth God, Oprah, actually begged us mere mortals to return the favor we owe her for giving us OPRAH!
As obviously none of you know since nobody is watching that shit, Oprah's cable network OWN is still on the air, but it could be letting out its final breath any day now. To put things into perspective, if OWN was an anus, it would be an anus belonging to me. Because only one or two people want to get near it and after they do they regret spending time with it in the first place. It's like the Trinity Network if the Trinity Network was run by OPRAH! I've watched OWN a few times, but shit ain't for me. It's too preachy, too serious and it wants me to learn a life lesson from it. Fuck that. The only lessons I want to learn from TV are how to complain about the wall color when I'm buying a house (House Hunters), how to react like a crazy fool when the taxidermist unveils my stuffed dog to me (American Stuffers) and how to pick the perfect outfit to wear before a drunken girl fight so that the censors have to blur out my exposed asshole (Bad Girls Club).
Anyway, OWN isn't doing too well in the ratings and so Oprah is starting to get desperate. A quick minute after the Grammys started on Sunday night, Oprah asked her nine million followers on Twitter to switch their shit to OWN:
“Every 1 who can please turn to OWN especially if u have a Nielsen box.”
Some of her followers dared to speak out of place and told her she was being unethical and corrupt. Those followers have since been wished into an endless field of TVs that play nothing but reruns of the Iyanla show.
Deadline says that Oprah's begging blew up in her face, because it's against Nielsen laws to openly ask a Nielsen family to watch a specific show or network. In this week's ratings, Nielsen will add a note to all of OWN's shows stating that Oprah tried to cheat and shit.
I would've watched OWN on Sunday night IF I had a Brigitte Nielsen box, but I don't and I'm a little disappointed by this. OPRAH is OPRAH. You'd think that after she desperately begged for viewers, she then would've Tweeted: "Everybody, look under your La-Z-Boy right now. YOU GET A NIELSEN BOX! AND YOU GET A NIELSEN BOX!" Oprah's omni powers are slipping.
And I would feel for Oprah, but the truth is, she brought this upon herself by bringing this:
....upon us. Karma, etc...
Beyonce and Jay-Z are making it clear that if anybody's going to make money off of their chosen one, it's going to be their asses. A few days after Blue Ivy Carter became the only baby born on earth (It's true. All our birth certificates are now null and void since B.I.C. is the only human that matters.), several hos tried to trademark her full name to use on a line of baby products. Those trademarks were stamped with a giant red DENIED and the trademark office said that the name already belonged to the most famous human on the planet. According to The Washington Post, Beyonce and Jay-Z are trying to stop future trademark filings by reserving the name Blue Ivy Carter for a future line of baby cosmetics (the fuck?), diaper bags, strollers and all sorts of other tacky baby shit.
One expert thinks Beyonce and Jay-Z's application will be approved right away since parents have the right to trademark the names of their underage kids. Another expert is side-eyeing all of this, because he thinks Beyonce and Jay-Z are getting special treatment since their application has been fast-tracked.
Two things: Welcome to Planet Bey-Z, second expert. Of course, Beyonce and Jay-Z are getting special treatment. The line always forms behind them and the phrase "take a number" is as foreign to them as natural sunlight is to Basement Baby. Second, I love how Beyonce and Jay-Z are really trying to act like they're just doing this to stop shady whores from making $$$ off their baby and they have no interest in putting out a line of baby product products. We all know that the shelves of Babies 'R Us will be soon covered with B.I.C. baby lace fronts and B.I.C. baby bodysuits with the words "Suri Who?" bedazzled on them.
In other Jay-Z news, if you're in the mood for an eye seizure, try to sit through Jay-Z and Kanye's video for N*ggas in Paris. WARNING: You might want to smoke a bowl of Blue Ivy Kush (no trademark) before entering strobe light fuckery hell.
Since Kim Kardashian is trying to beat the jockstrap's record by wrapping herself around as many professional athlete dicks as possible, she has apparently started down low fucking on Mark Sanchez, the quarterback for the New York Jets. The sports blog Terez Owens (via Radar) is hearing that Kim clamped her ham hocks around Mark while filming the first season of Kourtney & Kim Take It Up The Ass and they recently started up again. Mark has a girlfriend, but that hasn't stopped him from trying to conquer Kim's Mount Doom ass whenever they're in the same city. The source put it like this:
“Kim and Mark like to meet in hotels for dinner dates and flings. Whenever Kim is in New York, they hang out. They are very careful with not being seen together, Mark is seeing someone!”
Okay, the source lost me at "very careful with not being seen together." Kim not wanting to be seen is like Khloe not wanting to drag a small dog by the neck up to her den in the hills every time she sees one. It's instinct! Kim isn't powered by a beating heart and working internal organs like us. Bitch gets her energy from eyes looking at her and cameras flashing at her. That's how she feeds the dark orb in her chest. And wasn't Mark Sanchez recently caught doing a 17-year-old or something? And before that he was doing Hayden Pantyairs who looks like one of the boys from The Sandalot with tits. Kim's second face is younger than a preteen, but she's over 30, so I don't think she's the kind Mark pulls his peen out for. Pimp Mama Kris needs to do her research before she leaks fake stories.
Here's Kim walking around Miami last night while looking like a sweet and sour chicken wing.