Chelsea Handler

Human vodka bag Chelsea Handler has spit out a lot of shit about the Falcor/Lamb Chop hybrid that is LeAnn Rimes, but the latter decided to be the bigger person by going on the former's show. And by "bigger person" I mean that LeAnn is a fame whore in the truest sense of the phrase and will gladly look past someone's obvious hate for her if there's a TV camera involved.

LeAnn said that all the shit Chelsea talked about her actually helped her through her divorce, because she was able to laugh at Chelsea laughing at her. Uh huh. There's dick pull #1 from LeAnn. Dick pull #2 came when LeAnn said her skinny ass body happened naturally. LeAnn was a fat kid and as she grew up the fat magically melted off revealing the grown up skeleton of a War Hose underneath. Uh huh. Finally, dick pull #3 came when LeAnn admitted to calling the paps once in a while, but says that they mostly just show up by themselves and it's a thorn in her bony side:

LR: They just follow us everywhere. It's quite annoying. Yes. I get annoyed with myself, to be honest.

CH: That's good to hear. That's refreshing. People want to know that. Now do you know when you're getting your photograph taken. Some people would say that you set the photographs up. Some girls do that. Have you ever done that?

LR: I have actually set a photograph up to get people to leave me alone. Once the photographs are taken then they're done. It's not something that you go do often..... The really really freaky things... Like we'll set photographs up for our wedding so we know everything's taken care of and it's going to be done the way we want to do it.

CH: Like pictures don't get out that you don't want to get out. Private photos. This is a good lesson in paparazzi.

LR: True. But yeah, certain ones where I'm like picking a wedgie out of my butt in a bathing suit. I definitely didn't set that up.

If only this bitch could pull her eyelids out of the squint position to clearly see all of us rolling our eyes at this. Like any of us are buying this shit. I mean, somewhere there's a crumpled up piece of paper in a paparazzo's pocket that has GPS coordinates written on it over a note that reads: "At exactly 14:00, I will pick a wedgie out of my butt in a bathing suit. Get that in hi-res. It will be perfect for The National Enquirer's annual Beach Bloopers cover."

Click here to see LeAnn on Chelsea if you care. And here's Mr. & Mrs. Squint at a pre-Grammy party last night.

Yes, Chelsea Handler's nostrils look like they work most nights sucking up what's ever good and she's got the sweats that a bitch usually gets when the last line has been snorted up and her dealer isn't answering his main line, but that doesn't mean shit! But Page Six is still trying to say that Jennifer Aniston's tequila sister was kicked out of a men's room stall for nostril swallowing a little Lohan powder with some dude in gold shoes.

Chelsea's piece Andre Balazs, who owns a bunch of hotels and shit, threw a party on a docked boat in NYC last week and she showed up early in the night. The source says that Chelsea guzzled down holy water (aka vodka on the rocks) when she got there, but as the night called for stronger shit, she disappeared down into the men's bathroom with a dude in gold shoes. A bouncer quickly caught them and made both of them do the walk of shame out of the bathroom.

Chelsea's rep says she was never kicked out of the men's bathroom and this story is a fat line cut with LIES.

Let's say this story is true and Chelsea was doing the Elvira Snort in that stall (she was totally doing the Elvira Snort in that stall), why would she get kicked out? Was is the point of fucking a hotel mogul if you can't do illegal shit at his parties? Chelsea should think about that the next time she does a line off his ass lips. And I guess when you don't have a mirror handy and the toilet seat hasn't been disinfected, a gold shoe is the next best thing to snort a line off of.

A long time ago I was dating this total asshole who was hotter than me in all ways, drove a better car, was liked by all, made more money, had nicer towels, was never the recipient of an EWWW face by a nurse when he took off his clothes for an exam and was basically the kind of piece of shit who could anything he wanted by winking and flexing his perfectly shaped 8.5" peen. I truly believed that he was only dating my ass, because he made a bet with his friends that he could transform me into winning Mr. Gay West Hollywood or some other kind of beauty pageant. I should've known something was amiss when he took me shopping and made me try on a bunch of outfits at a rapid speed to a Roy Orbison song. Anyway....

One weekday afternoon, we were driving around his immaculately detailed BMW when he got a call from his office that they needed him to stop by and sign a few things. A look of fear, not unlike the one Mel Gibson makes when he accidentally drives into a Hasidic community, plastered across his face and he swallowed hard like his saliva was made of nails. We drove to his office in silence and he told me it was only going to take him less than 10 minutes so I should just wait in the car. Bastard parked way too far from the office,took the keys and skipped off toward the building.

As I sat there like an overheated dog waiting for its owner to return, I realized that I had been dating the bitch for three weeks and I had only met one of his friends and never stayed the night. That's also when I looked at the building and noticed they had an air-conditioned lobby and waiting room. THIS BITCH didn't want his co-workers to know that he was waving his Adonis dick in the face of a homely, skinny gay with bad highlights! I should've stomped in there and caused a scene, but I really wanted his eighth world wonder wang to stomp on my b-hole later on in the night, so I kept my lips shut. Sigh. It was one of the only times in my lifetime that I regretted being a dumb slut with no self-respect.

Well, that's basically what Jennifer Aniston did to Justin Theroux at last night's Horrible Bosses (aka The Workplace Bad Teacher) premiere in L.A. The paps say that Justin stayed in the car while Aniston worked the carpet. Once she was done, Justin slid in through the backdoor to sit with her in the theater. This move actually surprised me a bit. Jennifer wants the world to know that she's finally got a man! So I figured that a completely clothes-less Justin Theroux would show up wearing only a naked Jennifer Aniston frontpack that attached to his peen. That Aniston! Always full of surprises!

Here's more pictures of all the hos who got to show their faces while Justin had to hide his in the car: Aniston, Chelsea Handler, Joey with Andrew Lawrence, Alyssa Milano, Jason Bateman with Amanda Anka, Jenna Elfman with some elf and Jason Sudeikis.

Chelsea Handler and 50 Cent never seriously came out and said that they've been rubbing their nipples against each other, but UsWeekly is saying that they were down low fuck partners at one point. Chelsea has since moved on to Uma Thurman's tossed piece, Andre Balazs, and 50 Cent has been left to clean up the broken pieces of his piggy bank heart. A source says that 50 Cent got the leaky tingles when thinking about all the things he could do with the bulging skinny peen on her forehead, but Chelsea didn't feel the same way. Chelsea took a sledgehammer to 50's open heart.

The source went on to say that Chelsea is on new dick, so when 50 sent her a bunch of gifts for Christmas, "she sent them back. She put a note on one that said, 'I can buy my own gifts.'" Chelsea and 50 were both in Sundance recently, but they stayed away from each other. 50 is still heartbroken over how Chelsea has treated him.

Fuck me with a stack of quarters. Like 50 Pennies is really having a Jennifer Aniston moment over Chelsea sending his stupid presents back? Yes, the image of 50 bundled up in his Hoodie Footie Snuggle Suit and quietly weeping over a framed picture of Chelsea while nibbling on pieces of raw Pillsbury cinnamon roll dough is so real I can practically touch. Please. George Washington Squared has the attention span of an ADD-ridden toddler on crack. Anybody who has spent time on his Twitter page knows this. So 50 probably got sad for a quick minute before the screensaver in his head kicked in and he moved on to the next shit.

In other Chelsea news, Jenna Jameson Tweeted this last night:

HuffPo thinks that a "Jenna Jameson is raunchy" comment from Chelsea is what triggered this swift kick to the vag bone. But are we sure that Jenna didn't mean this as a compliment? I mean, Chelsea Handler is 35 (we're still waiting to see the receipts for that one) and Jenna Jameson is 36, so who in parched clit hell is she calling old? AND Jenna Jameson made her fortune from being one of the biggest professional whores of all professional whores. And yes, you could stuff Chelsea into a bag of dehydrated apricots at Trader Joe's and nobody would know the difference, but Jenna's pussy could get a second job at Home Depot as a rented sander. So again, this Tweet must be a "Welcome to the Club" air kiss from Jenna.

This week's Star Magazine cover story is about how miserable sadling Forever Aloneiston still wails out Brad Pitt's name when she clutches her pillow tightly in her giant California King bed for one. Apparently, Jennifer is putting all the blame on her friend Chelsea Handler for the story. If Chelsea never called Angelina Jolie a "homewrecking cunt bitch" during her show this past weekend, Jennifer's desperate face wouldn't have been on the cover of Star Magazine. WOE IS JEN. Jen's going to need a back transplant soon, because there won't be anymore places for her friends to stab her!!!!!!!

One of Popeater's sources say that Jennifer hasn't felt this betrayed since the time John Mayer dumped her ass via an impromptu press conference. This source went on to say, "Jen has gone out of her way to keep her private feelings about that woman who stole her husband private and has always asked her friends to do the same. She is furious with Chelsea for bringing the whole situation back to life again and landing her on the cover of a weekly magazine tomorrow with a Brad headline. She hates drama or unnecessary attention and certainly doesn't want to ever see her face on a tabloid again with a headline about Angie or Brad."

But not all is dead between Jennifer and Chelsea. Jennifer isn't going to stop sharing a 2-gallon tub of cookie dough ice cream with Chelsea, but hopes that she'll keep the homewrecking Angie jokes out of her act (even though she's been doing BMH [Before Maddox Hawk]).

Although, Jennifer might grab that tub back when she reads what Chelsea said about Angie to Katie Couric during an interview for Glamour (via UsWeekly):

"Yeah, I'm not a fan. She just doesn't come off to me as a sincere woman. She seems like a woman that you'd really want to avoid."

But Jennifer will quickly give the tub back, because Chelsea went on to say this about the loneliest chin in the world:

"Jennifer Aniston makes me laugh. She's irreverent and hilarious, and she sends me really, really funny e-mails."

Um. Chelsea, that e-mail Jennifer sent you with a picture of her dozens of cats dressed as the 12 Days of Christmas wasn't supposed to be funny.

Chelsea Handler probably woke up on Monday morning with a severed Cabbage Patch Doll head ("WHYYYYY GOD WHY?!" - Jennifer Aniston) in her bed, but she doesn't understand why she doesn't wake up with a severed Cabbage Patch Doll head in her bed every morning. Because Chelsea said on her show last night that she's been throwing stank on St. Angie Jo ever since the saint's tongue blessed James Haven's tonsils a million years ago (and his eyeballs haven't recovered since).

Chelsea didn't blurt it out, but I think that was her way of saying that calling Angie Jo a "homewrecking cunt bitch" (in so many words) during her show in NJ over the weekend had nothing to do with her best friend forever Jennifer Aniston. No, they weren't toasting to that "homewrecking cunt bitch" before doing a Thanksgiving shot off of the shaved belly of Jennifer's cat. Here's the video of Chelsea breaking it down for us:

In case you don't feel like playing play on that shit, Chelsea basically said: "I'm been making fun of Angelina Jolie since she made out with her brother.... If I've learned nothing from this, it's to write some new jokes."

All Chelsea has to do is switch out the names. From now on, she should just call Brad Pitt a homewrecking cunt bitch. It freshens up the joke a tiny bit, it keeps the beautiful word "cunt" in place and Chelsea will still get amazingly hilarious e-mails of CAPS-LOCKED hate from the most devoted Brangeloonies (who are locked up in mental facilities with WiFi). You don't ever want to lose that privilege.

Chelsea Handler's life span has just been reduced by 95% and her inbox is getting violated by millions of ALL-CAP RANTS filled with the word "LOOSER" (Translation: "Loser" in Brangeloonese), because she went hard on Angie Jo at her show in Newark, NJ on Friday night. Jennifer Aniston's favorite drinking partner said that Angie is a homewrecking whore (Maddox is sharpening is shank) who doesn't have any female friends because she's a cunt (Maddox just dropped his shank to sharpen a bigger shank). Chelsea saying the word cunt is like a messy French kiss to my ears.

Every hardcore Brangeloonie just submitted a request for a day pass from the mental hospital, because they are gonna GIT that Chelsea!

But seriously, I would tell Chelsea that it takes one to know one, but that goes without saying. Chelsea knows that she sits with all of us at the big cunt's table. And according to Chelsea, that's where Angie Jo sits too. Awkward!

via ONTD

This year, Jennifer Aniston did not spend her Thanksgiving bawling out an ocean of lonely tears that could carry the Mayflower back to America. And she didn't gorge herself on three Hungry Man turkey meals and a pint of pumpkin pie ice cream while her Beanie Baby collection (dressed in pilgrim outfits made from yarn) watched. No, this year Jennifer Aniston joined Grey Goose's favorite beej giver Chelsea Handler down in Los Cabos, Mexico! No llorando for Aniston!

And Aniston got a littler closer to what the paps called a "mysterious and dark haired hunk". The only mystery surrounding this dude is if he uses pina colada or raspberry scented lube to give his boyfriend an early morning handjob. I mean, really...

Just because Jennifer is hugging on a dude, doesn't mean she's sticking her hard nips in his mouth hole later! Jennifer's Malan-alike friend is obviously just giving her a consoling "It's okay, I don't think Christopher Columbus had a man on Thanksgiving either" hug. He's not smiling because he can't wait to stick the tip in later, he's smiling because her hair smells like delicious Strawberry Suave shampoo. Most of my gay friends looooooved Strawberry Suave shampoo as a child and still do. I use it as bubble bath and sometimes when my tub of Wet goes empty, I dab a dollop on my... Okay, I'm stopping!

That picture from TMZ of 50 Cent and Chelsea Handler sitting close to each other at a jazz bar in New Orleans isn't what you think. Not that I really know what you think exactly since that it's not clear what's going on in that picture. 50 Cent and Chelsea could be talking about young America's new love for spaghetti tacos, or they could be deep into a staring contest, or he could be feeding his finger to her pikachu. But according to Chelsea, it's definitely not the latter. Chelsea went on her Twitter yesterday to set the shit straight and say that 50 Cents is not licking on her erect forehead vein. Chelsea wrote:

Everyone, calm down. I met with mr. Cent about a potential project. There's nothing to report yet, ill let you know if there is.
about 16 hours ago via ÜberTwitter

A business thing. Riiiiight. I've heard that one before. No, I really have. It's time for another chapter in Michael K's Non-Adventures in Whoring! So, when I was around 18 or so, I started fucking around with some much older fancy L.A. type who had a fancy job and loved all things fancy. Dude was only running around with me so he could write off our dinners together as charity. On our third and last date, Mr. Fancy took me to some fancy restaurant where fancy people eat fancy shit. We're standing there waiting for a table when one of Mr. Fancy's snobby piece of trash friends strolls up wearing PradaDolceGucciVersaceArmani .I thought she was going to charge me for merely looking at her.

The two of them start talking about their stupid fancy lives and their stupid fancy jobs and their stupid stupid stupid fancy stupid stuff. About 5 minutes later, the snobby piece of trash turns to me and says, "Hi, I'm Katrina (or whatever the hell that asshole's name was)." Then Mr. Fancy goes, "Oh, he works in my office." WORKS IN HIS OFFICE?! Like I empty his trash cans for a living! Like he's rewarding me with a fancy dinner because I'm so good at emptying his trash cans and shit!

Now I realize that maybe he didn't want the fancy people in his fancy circle to know that he's friendly with a cheap teenage whore from the San Gabriel Valley, but "works in my office"? I would've given him the $20 in my wallet to introduce me as "a cheap teenage whore from the San Gabriel Valley." Shit, I'd still give anybody $20 if they introduced me as "a cheap teenage whore from the San Gabriel Valley."

After she left, he said to me, "Sorry about that. It's a small town." No, it's not, asshole! And it's not like I wanted to go to that stupid restaurant. I would've been happier at fucking El Torito. Well, their sweet corn mash is really good.

50 Cent took a quick break from trying to wrassle up Twitter twat with his gentle words of romance (example: "I'm feeling down now. If u bitches on twitter really love me send me a sexy pictures take it with ur phone right quick") and telling dudes to eat a bullet if they don't eat pussy to get a little closer to Chelsea Handler at the Blue Nile jazz bar in New Orleans the other night. Vivica Fox's hairline just jumped back a few steps like a baptist preacher trying to rebuke the evil spirit.

A witness-type tells TMZ that 50 Pennies and Chelsea "were getting hot and heavy" with each other throughout the night. You know, I think my eyeballs just jumped back like a baptist preacher thinking about the face Chelsea made when Two Quarters poured Svedka on her pikachu before gobbling on that shit like a starved bull dog nibbling a paper plate covered in pork gravy. I rebuke thee!

But you know, this picture doesn't prove shit. The only thing it proves is that in a dark New Orleans club, 50 Cent sort of looks Simpsonized.