Well Well Well

Just like straight unicorns, Courtney Love's sanity and Kathy Griffin's belly button, Jude Law's natural hairline hasn't been seen in a long time and many of us were starting to believe it was just a figment of our imagination. Jude Law has been covering up his bat ears hairline with hats, plugs and Sienna Miller's (NSFW) unused vagine wiglet for years. But you can cancel that Amber Alert for his natural hairline, because he proudly brought it out at last night's Paris premiere of Sherlock Holmes 2. Jude Law stepped in front of the cameras and bravely said, "My name is Jude Law and the front of my hair looks like the crotch of a 70s lady porn star."

My dad's hair was just like him, hardly around and pretty much nonexistent, but every dude on my mom's side of the family is the opposite. They all have full bear muffs on their head. So it could go either way for me. But if I end up like my dad and have a head like an abandoned Chia Pet's ass, I'll probably just go with it. You know, shave it all off and use glitter lube as head moisturizer. Turn my bald ass head into a party ass head. But I would miss the whole hair pulling thing. Somebody should really make a stick-on fake ponytail so a bald bitch can still partake in some hair-pulling fun.

Because The National Enquirer has solved the case! Their paternity test experts took a patch of Khloe Kardashian's back fur that got stuck on a tree trunk as she ran through the forest in search of pygmy goats to eat and tested it with a DNA sample they got from O.J. Simpson's ill-fitting glove. It was a match! O.J. IS the father. The birds of the forest just fled from the trees as Harry from Harry and the Hendersons made the ground quake by doing the Not Father Dance. I guess that bareback quickie he had in the shrubs after eating ten too many fermented peaches was with a half-shaven baboon after all and not Pimp Mama Kris. It's an easy mistake to make.

The National Enquirer (via DM), who are obviously going hardcore for the Pulitzer Prize in comedy this year, heard from a source that a couple of years before Khloe was born, Pimp Mama Kris had an affair with the monster who would go on to murder the so-called best friend she sold out in a tell-all. The source says the proof is in the face of O.J.'s daughter Sydney, because they think she looks just like Khloe. The source went on to spit this dollop of pricelessness:

"O.J. told me Khloe's his child. It was the big secret that no one in the two families would discuss. And Robert admitted he and Kris were not having sex at the time Khloe was conceived. O.J. bragged about his sex life and many female conquests, which he said included some of his best friends' wives.

He used to tell us way back - even before he and Nicole got divorced - that he had a love child with the wife of a wealthy family. But at the time of Khloe's birth, it would have been devastating for the news to come out that America's biggest sports hero had fathered a love child."

Oh shit, that is good. The National Enquirer should just handle every story from now, because they are masters at spinning a whole lot of WHO CARES into gold. They're like Fuckerystiltskin. But they're not completely off base. Before Pimp Mama Kris was a bona fide pimp, she was a bona fide whore to the core so you shouldn't put it past her. That said, this isn't true ("Thank you Professorina Obvious" - You to Me). O.J. is a heartless monster, Pimp Mama Kris is a heartless minion of Satan and the only crime against humanity Khloe is guilty of is this.

And of course, Kim had to stick her Twatter into this:

Now we have all the answers! It makes sense now! Khloe u are so tan!

Kim, kindly suck on a giant Shut The Fuck Up. I'll paint it black if that helps. Kim is just bringing this up so hos will temporarily forget that she would be nominated for a Razzie for her emotional performance in that SUV ride she faked for her reality shit show. Kim, just because we're laughing at O.J. doesn't mean we still can't smell the burnt fakeness wafting off of your ass. Put down the Febreze, it doesn't mask the stench.

This is Kaia Gerber and thanks to a whole lot of hard work, determination and tirelessly showing up to go-see after go-see, she has finally landed an ad campaign for Versace Kids. Oh, erase that first part. What I really mean is that Kaia was born out of the correct vagina and is one of the only kids on earth who doesn't cry for Lord Jesus to save them when Donatella Versace rides onto the set in a chariot made from the bones of the children who crossed her. So Kaia got the job!

Kaia, who is what you get when Cindy Crawford and Rande Gerber mate, makes her modeling debut in the Versace Kids campaign, and Donatella said in a press release that Kaia did so well that not once did she think of sucking the youthful innocence out of that child to feed the dark organ of death in her chest:

"Like her mother, Kaia has a very special gift. The camera really, really loves her. Having Cindy on-set for the shoot took me back to all the amazing Avedon shoots we worked on together. It was such a special treat watching Kaia walk in her mother's footsteps!"

First of all, I'd grab a vat of holy water and throw it at Donatella's face if she put socks AND sandals on my child's feet. Socks and sandals are only okay if you're a Riverside County frat boy going to the liquor store to buy Red Bull and chewing tobacco.

Second of all, I suffered through HOURS (like 8) of Barbizon lessons and do you see "Young Versace ad campaign" in my modeling resume that doesn't exist?! This makes sense, though. Barbizon was a BarbiJOKE. Case in point: The highlight of any Barbizon class was going to 7-Eleven for a snack. We'd take a break from learning how to do the "bite the sunglasses" pose (like this) and we'd go to 7-Eleven. We were all kids with $2 in our hands so we'd all buy candy. Then we'd sit on the curb and eat the candy in front of our professional modeling teachers. And not ONCE did these supposed professional modeling teachers tell us to immediately barf out that candy in the toilet. See, a total joke of a modeling school.

The late Elizabeth Taylor's effort to possess the body of Judge Stephanie before sentencing Lindsay Lohan to Death Row so she can't barf all over the image of La Liz in a new Lifetime biopic failed today. Because LiLo was in court for another probation hearing and Judge Stephanie slipped on a Hazmat-made rubber glove to pat her head for doing what she's supposed to do. BORING! But the day wasn't completely a loss, because right before LiLo strolled into court, a process server served her with a reasonable and accurate lawsuit. No, Sebastian Bach is not suing LiLo for stealing his 2010 look. A man named Thomas A. Green is suing LiLo for $300,000 claiming she went back on a business deal with him, because he was close to uncovering the truth about her involvement in the death of Osama Bin Laden. Naturally.

TMZ says that the 12 page, handwritten lawsuit looks about as crazy as a letter to a fan Lindsay Lohan writes on the back of a cocktail napkin after one of the voices in her head tells her that the potted plant in the corner wants an autograph. Thomas, a former U.S. marine who regularly has hallucinations, writes in the lawsuit that during a Facebook conversation with LiLo, she said she would help to promote his dot-com business. When LiLo started tip toeing away from the deal, Thomas found out that she had a huge part in the killing of Bin Laden and is a high-class prostitution whore. Thomas scribbled this in the lawsuit:

"[Thomas] set out to command [Lohan] to twitter and stated if [Lohan] acknowledges this is an Osoma Bin Ladden op all civilians in past wrong doing will receive clemency.

[Lohan] might be a high end prostitute."

TMZ also called him a delusional crazy and White Oprah resembles that comment! You know, I was mad at TMZ for calling this absolutely sane man "delusional," but then I read the part where Thomas refers to LiLo as a "high end" prostitute. HIGH END? That's like saying rust water from a toilet tank is top shelf liquor. The only way LiLo can use the words "high end" in her escort ad is if she means that you have to sprinkle a little coke on her b-hole before you stick it in.

There really is a fine line between a Lohan and a delusional sometimes-homeless crazy person, and LiLo snorted up that line a long time ago, so White Oprah should adopt this dude. They need to put their differences aside, because delusional crazies belong together.

In the halls of the White House yesterday afternoon, Nivea's "Don't Mess With My Man" blared from Michelle Obama's glamour headquarters as she slathered her face in Vaseline, put on her heaviest rings, stuck razors in her hair and chose the perfect pair of shoes to easily rage out of if need be, because Snagyomangelina Jolie was coming to visit President Obama.

With a boost from Joe Biden (he just happened to be strollin' by), a pap was able to stick their lens over the fence and get pictures of Angie and some hobo hipster visiting Obama in the Oval Office. No, Angie wasn't there to propose a No Tax On Condom Heels Act or Maddox's Ban Beanie Babies Law. Angie was there as a UN Goodwill Ambassador to talk about highly important world issues, durr. And I'm sure Michelle stood in the corner with a "No Hollywood Trick Is Going To Marilyn Monroe Away My Man" smirk on her face.

Click here if these heart-stopping pictures just aren't heart stopping enough for your ass and you need to see them in moving form.

Asking "Which Kuntrashian can you stomach the most?" is just like asking "Would you rather eat hyena diarrhea, armpit cheese or Ke$ha?", but most hos would probably say that they can take Khloe Kuntrashian (she's armpit cheese, by the way) the most. So because of this, many believe that Khloe does not have Kardashian blood running through her veins. Pimp Mama Kris has denied this a million times over, but Robert Kardashian's ex-wife and widow claim that he told them he was NOT the father. I don't know if I should be happy or sad that Maury's team is trying to get DNA swabs from Chewbacca, Ludo from Labyrinth, Chyna and Andre the Giant's corpse for a very special Kardashian episode for sweeps.

Jan Ashley married Robert Kardashian right after his marriage to Pimp Mama Kris shriveled into nothingness, and she tells Star Magazine that he confessed to her that he knew he wasn't Khloe's biological father.

"Khloe is not his kid -- he told me that after we got married. He just kind of looked at me and said [it] like it was a matter of fact. He said, 'Well, you know that Khloe's not really a Kardashian, don't you?' And I said…'OK,' and that was it."

Robert's widow, Ellen Kardashian, backs up Jan's ESCANDALOSO words. According to Ellen, Robert told her that he wasn't even dipping into Pimp Mama Kris' kunt maker at the time Khloe was conceived. Pimp Mama Kris even admitted in her book that she screwed around with a side piece named Ryan around the time Khloe was made. Jan lays it out like this:

"Khloe brought it up all the time. She looked nothing like the rest. She was tall, had a different shape, light hair, curly hair. Didn't look anything like the other three children. Robert did question the fact that Khloe was his. Any normal man would if they knew their wife had cheated on him. [But] he never would have considered a DNA test. He loved her very much."

DISCLAIMER: Ellen Kardashian filed for Chapter 7 in 2010 and lost her home to foreclosure this past October. So if you want to, you can file all of this under: Taking A Page From Pimp Mama Kris' Handbook On Shamelessly Whoring For Some Quick Coin.

It really doesn't matter at this point if Robert isn't Khloe's biological father or if she's the product of Pimp Mama Kris' wild night at a sex party in Narnia. The damage has already been done. The Karkrashian trifecta is complete and there's no going back. Besides, Robert Kardashian isn't Kim, Kourtney or Khloe's father anymore. After they drained the blood from their bodies and replaced their veins with water from the river of wailing, they became Lucifer's daughters! And by Lucifer I mean Ryan Seacrest.

And here's some pictures from last week of Khloe and Kim confusing the animals at the Dallas World Aquarium, because those two should be the ones in a cage.

Beyonce and Jay-Z bought an entire wing of the sixth floor of Lenox Hill Hospital for $1.3 million, because self-entitlement runs through their veins, and because they didn't want anybody seeing their South American surrogate being shuttled in getting a picture of their precious Baby Blue Ivy. Their headset-wearing bodyguards trolled the entire floor and stopped any ordinary peon from entering the golden wing of eternal light including a father who just wanted to see his premature twin girls. Neil Coulon tells The New York Daily News that he tried to see his sick girls in the neonatal intensive care unit on the sixth floor, but Jay-Z's goons blocked his way and banished him from the entire floor.

“Three times they stopped me from entering or exiting the NICU (Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit) and it happened once on Friday — just because they wanted to use the hallway. They should have been more strategic about it Tches are children with problems in intensive care and you're just going to take over the hospital like you own it? All I want is an apology.

I know they spent $1.3 million and I'm just a contractor from Bed-Stuy, but the treatment we received was not okay. My wife is just terribly upset. She had a C-section. She gave birth to twins. She is sore. Nobody needs this. This is the NICU. Nobody cares if you’re a celebrity. Nobody is star-gazing. They just want to see their children.

To have that circus roll into town and ruin our parade was unpleasant."

A rep for Lenox Hill said that she's trying to hear Mr. Coulon's complaint, but it's hard to hear him over the sound of a machine counting all the cash that Jay-Z and Beyonce gave them. I'm sure Mr. Coulon will soon receive a postcard from Lenox Hill that reads: Jay-Z and Beyonce gave us money-loving whores $1.3 million, your argument is invalid.

Mr. Coulon had it kind of easy, though. I heard that on Saturday night, every world leader ordered a cease labor on all contracting coochies, because Beyonce refused for her special golden child to be born at the same time as a bunch of regulars!

Kristy McNichol, known to you 70s hos as Buddy from Family, or us 90s hos as Barbara from Empty Nest, or you 2000s hos as "Mom, who is this bitch Kristy McNichosomething?", is proudly waving her Home Depot and flannel flag. Kristy retired from the acting game in the 90s, but is stepping back into the slightly dim spotlight to tell that the world that she's a big lez. For those of you who are still on the floor from hearing about Clay Gayken, this shocking and surprising news will probably keep you there. I'll bring you a blanket and a mayo sandwich later. In the meantime, this is what Kristy's publicist told People about her decision to publicly come out at the age of 49.

McNichol, 49, who has lived with her partner Martie Allen, also 49, for the past two decades, decided to make a statement about her sexuality and share this photo because she is "approaching 50" and wants to "be open about who I am."

She "is very sad about kids being bullied," her publicist Jeff Ballard tells PEOPLE. "She hopes that coming out can help kids who need support. She would like to help others who feel different."

Done with acting, McNichol spends her time focusing on tennis, yoga, travel and raising her beloved miniature dachshunds. "She is very happy and healthy," says Ballard. "And she enjoys living a very private life."

YAY for this! The world definitely needs more proud lesbians telling People magazine that they are proud lesbians, and I definitely need to get on a successful sitcom like right now. Then I can retire from sitcom acting in like 10 years and spend my 40s and on focusing on tennis, yoga, travel and raising beloved miniature dachshunds. And now that People has caught up with Kristy McNichols, can they please do a cover story and 15-page spread on the whereabouts of Park Overall!

Ignore the sounds of Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" playing in your head, because even though LeAnn Rimes looks like a neglected horse fly who suffers from the dizzies due to malnourishment, she doesn't need your $18 a month donation. LeAnn Rimes needs a lot of things (examples: shame, dignity, the name of a good titty ball surgeon), but what she doesn't need is a donation. LeAnn's feedbag must be filled with nothing but gold coins, because she's permanently on vacation. In just the past few weeks, bitch was in Aspen and Mexico. And now she's strutting her yard apart chichis in Hawaii.

LeAnn and a friend were horsing around (If you GONG me for that one, make sure it leaves a mark.) on the beach yesterday in front of a bunch of paps who I'm sure she called herself. LeAnn can't go a week without posing for pictures that look like they came straight out of Horse Fancy's swimsuit edition.

And I need to take a quick moment to shed light on the abuse that plastic ball is enduring at the hooves of LeAnn Rimes. Can you imagine the painful emotions it's going through as it flies toward a ho with a cemetery of plastic balls on her chest? That poor plastic ball thinks she's going to catch it and stuff it into her chest where it will be trapped forever. What an evil bitch. Think of the plastic balls, LeAnn!

I had to fall back in my chair a bit and tilt my head to the side to make sure Necole Bitchie didn't get it wrong and mislabel this as Beyonce instead of a light-skinned Mo'Nique in a luxurious new mane. But yeah, some employee of a Vancouver department store took this picture of Beyonce from a surveillance camera (yeah, I guess we're doing that now) as she shopped earlier this week. This picture of Beyonce looking so swole that I'm surprised her wig didn't pop off should shut down the vicious talk that she's keeping a South American surrogate in a Tribeca apartment, but I'm not buying it.

Beyonce obviously Jessica Simpson-ized one of her pictures by running it through the FatBooth app, then she Photoshopped it over the background of a Vancouver department store and leaked it herself! Either that or she got reverse lipo on her face and won't leave her house unless she's wearing one of Tyler Perry's Madea fat suits. Yup, both of those theories are totally plausible and reasonable. There's really no shame in Beyonce's STUNT QUEEN game.