If you're in the middle of swallowing a glob of Red Bull (wink wink at you, Demi) and evaporated milk, you should pretend that it's donkey piss and donkey jizz, because if you're able to keep it down without heaving up 90% of your internal organs, you could win $50,000 on Fear Factor! The dust storm of bleached dandruff, fake tan residue and sea jasper ash that just covered L.A. is from Lindsay Lohan running over to NBC to sign up for Fear Factor.
In the past, Fear Factor has fed their contestants all sorts of delicious gourmet delicacies like blended rats, sloth dicks wrapped in the ass cheeks of a baboon, snail vaginas, tarantula shit, charred fetus heads, etc.. etc... But their latest stunt dipped so low into the bowels of disgustingness that some NBC executives weren't sure if they should air it. But as they proved by giving Whitney a full season, NBC has no fucks to give and will air it anyway!
Someone who works at Fear Factor tells TMZ that on an episode that airs Monday, the contestants have to swallow (no spitting allowed) entire cups of bladder juice and nut gravy from a donkey. Each contestant had to drink every last drop of donkey piss and jizz before they moved on to the next round, and some of them did it. SUCIO! It must be a very special Kardashian-themed episode.
$50,000 could buy you a lot of shit (like 50,000 items from Taco Bell's new breakfist menu!), but is all that money really worth felching down the jizz of an ass in front of millions of people? It's one thing to drink donkey cum in the comfort of a Tijuana Donkey Show while surrounded by friends, but it's another to do it in front of a TV camera. What if you get pregnant? What if you shit out a tiny donkey human baby into the toilet? You're going to need more than $50,000 to raise it. And I don't even want to think about how they milked that donkey, but I'm sure it involved Joe Rogan's lubed-up hand and a copy of Heidi Montag's Playboy spread.
But in NBC's defense, they've aired much grosser shit than hos drinking donkey semen. Like Donald Trump's face, for example.
Cindy Barshop, formerly of The Real Housewives of New York City and currently of The Real Asswipes of Old Douche City, has come up with the perfectly pointless thing for rich ladies who have always wanted to know what it feels like to have the coochie of a fox. For just $220+, Cindy's team at her waxing salon Completely Bare will give you the newborn by waxing your punane until every part of it is touching air and then they'll warm it up with a vagina wig made from real fox fur. It's like a fur coat for your cooter and you it's so luxurious that you won't even care that after a long August day your crotch will smell like a herring taking a bath in a bowl of butt sweat at the bottom of a used bunny cage.
TMZ says that Completely Bare also offers a feathered merkin and the fur one comes in a bunch of colors including pink.
As my abuelita used to say, "Usted haga lo que quieras con tu chocha a y que voy a hacer lo que quiero con mi chocha." (Okay, she never said that, but I wish she would've said that.) It's your vagina, but do you really want a dead fox lying on your naked beaver? Mother Nature just punched the tears out of her eyes. Besides, that hot pink patch of furry fug looks like the scalped head of a troll doll. If you really want to see a troll doll going down on you when you look at your crotch, just get yourself a troll doll vibrator! Damn.
And PETA doesn't have to worry about throwing red paint on all the fox fur merkins out there, because the wearer's pussy will do it for them on a monthly basis.
File this under: THE BEST SHIT I'VE HEARD ALL YEAR (Note: I'd say this even if it wasn't 3 days into a new year.) AND I'M NOT EVEN CAUGHT IN A K-HOLE.
Contact Music (aka the authority on truth when it comes to Clint Eastwood and squirrels news) says that Clint Eastwood has a best friend in the world and that best friend is a squirrel named Lola who lives near his office on the Warner Bros. lot. Lola is lucky as all shit that she made a house near Clint Eastwood's office instead of Richard Gere's office, because this would be a whole other kind of post if the latter happened. Instead of staring into Clint's squinting mound of wrinkles known as his face, bitch would be staring into Richard's squinting mound of wrinkles known as his gerbil eater!!!!
The source says that Clint leaves his office door open for Lola and the two have shared many beautiful moments together. The source went on, "Clint leaves the front door open whenever he's inside working so Lola can come and go. He gets a kick out of watching her and always keeps a bag of shelled peanuts on the bottom shelf of a bookcase in case she gets hungry. Clint would be so upset if Lola disappeared. He enjoys her company."
Clint ain't shit for not including a man ass eating scene in J. Edgar, but I will forgive him if he does an animated musical remake of Gran Torino starring Lola as his Asian neighbors and a bunch of coyotes as that Vietnamese gang.
While MK is busy scarfing down some fine Italian cuisine (your mind WOULD go there, sucio!), J. Harvey and I will be here doing our best to keep the beautiful Dlisted train from going off the rails. Graffiti totally counts as fine art, so don't even go there. MK sent me a link from Socialite Life to this pic Khloe Kardashian posted on her website, looking pretty and skinny and BLOND several Christmases ago. (Note: my computer choked on the words "Khloe" and "pretty" in the same sentence and I had to re-start the bitch three times.) This was apparently before the whole "dye my hair to look like my sisters so no one will know my mom was a complete ho and fucked around on the guy I thought was my dad" phase.
I have to say, she looks good as a blond...computer, NO!! Choke it down, bitch. She's actually the only one of those hos that I have any respect for (hang in there hard drive) since she doesn't take herself too seriously and seems kind of human. Enjoy tearing this pic of Khloe to shredded shreds while I resuscitate my pc with booze and bong hits.
Remember when the knot of coagulated cholesterol in your chest liquefied into a puddle of sorrow over the story of the Russian ginger seal baby who faced starving to death because everyone in his family is a huge racist seal cunt? They refused to hunt with him because he's of the gingers. Well, he's just moved into his new home at Russia's Akvatoria Dolphinarium and it turns out he's got a seal poon instead of a seal peen. He's a she! (Side note: Ginger seal pup and I have more in common than I thought, because you don't know how many times I heard "She's a HE!" every time I walked into a men's bathroom as a child.)
The dolphinarium has named the Rojo Caliente of seals "Nafanya" after some cartoon character she sort of, kind of, not really looks like. Nafanya is currently in quarantine and will move in with the other seals in about a month. The seal wranglers already gathered the other seals around and let them know that Nafanya is as precious as a Prince Hot Ginge nipple hair and they better treat her with love or else they'll be shoved into a shark costume and forced to pose in a photo-op with self-proclaimed shark savior January Jones. (Okay, I made that up, but the Akvatoria Dolphinarium has my permission to use that idea if need be.)
A quick second after Nafanya moved into the dolphinarium, she became a huge star and hos from all around are coming to see her. The head of the dolphinarium said this about their newest star:
"She has a playful nature. She loves to play with her toy - a small blue ball. But what she likes the most its to play with a fish at feeding time. She will follow it, catch it, put it in her mouth, release it and finally eat it. Nafanya is such a lovely animal and is certainly not afraid of people. We cannot yet let her swim with our other creatures as she is on a month-long quarantine, but we will do later. We will make sure she has a happy life in our dolphinarium."
The best part of all of this is that Nafanya has her own webcam. It's like 2008 all over again! But instead of spending all of my waking hours watching Shiba Inus sleep, fart, sleep, eat, sleep, bark, sleep, fart and sleep, I'll be watching a ginger seal sleep, fart, sleep, eat, sleep, bark, sleep, fart and sleep.
And I really hope that in the picture above Nafanya is not throwing us a "Fuck me, I'm the new Knut" side-eye of impending doom.
via Daily Mail
Reese Witherspoon's Chloe Paraty bag (yes, we're leaving in a world where purses have first and last names) costs more than a thousand delicious McGymMats and it also is the reason why a python was tortured, skinned and killed. The last part is what made the professional statement makers at PETA release a statement directed at Jake Gyllenhaal's former face warmer.
The $4,000 bag can't be sold in California, because selling anything made with python is illegal in the state, but carrying anything made of python is not. (Note: For those of you who are sick of heaving over the staged photos that Courtney Stodden and Doug Hutchison sell to the photo agencies, that California law might be of interest to you. You know, because Courtney's face definitely has some kind of python in it.)
PETA verbally threw a bucket of red paint at Reese's bag and then described in detail to the Daily Mail how pythons are skinned.
"No matter how much Reese paid for that bag, the animals paid a much higher price. Every year, millions of snakes are impaled on hooks or nailed to trees by their heads and skinned alive.
Hoses are inserted into the mouths of large snakes—like pythons—and their bodies are pumped full of water to loosen their skin so that it will cut away more easily. The animals' peeled, writhing bodies are then discarded, and it often takes days for the animals to die from the effects of shock and dehydration.
We can't imagine that she'd wish to contribute to this hidden suffering, especially for something as frivolous as a fashion accessory that can be replicated with no bloodshed. These days, it's easy to have a look that kills without killing, with fake snake, mock croc, python pleather, and other designer items that pay tribute to the beauty of these animals without massacring them."
So, I guess PETA is taking back that Sexiest Vegetarian award they gave Reese a few years back.
One of my old co-workers, who didn't own one handbag, convinced me that carrying a purse is completely useless because: a) God gave her an all-natural money clip (read: her titty cleavage); b) The bottom of a purse is where sticks of gum are crushed and murdered; c) A purse is a beacon for thieving thieves and d) When she gets fired from a job, she has one less thing to carry during the walk of shame to her Honda. So because of this, spending $4,000 on a purse that doesn't serve a dual purpose (examples: pistol purse, umbrella bag, wine purse, etc...) is a waste of cash to me.
And to be fair to Reese, if she was out in the wild, she'd probably be able to kill, skin and purse-ify a python with her chin. So, there's that.
Brenda Song is keeping her lips shut to public ears about whether or not her uterus is playing the lullaby version of the Mr. Ed theme song, but her now fiance Trace Cyrus is telling the world that the wedding march version of the Mr. Ed theme song will soon play in the Cyrus stables, because they're getting mare-eeeeeed! It's as Peter Shaffer rewrote Equus and gave it the happy ending it really deserves. The emo scarecrow let this out on Twitter today:
I am very excited to say, last week I asked my girlfriend Brenda Song to marry me and she said YES! We are both very excited to be engaged!
The thing about horse's being hung must be true, because why else would Brenda willingly marry into a fucked up family that is more horrifying than the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family. I mean, at Thanksgiving she'll have Billy Ray on one side smacking on Corn Pops while he has a staring contest with her nipples and on the other side she'll have Noah Cyrus singing a Peaches song in between gnawing on a neck bone. But Brenda obviously liked it enough to put a rein on it, so congrats to her! And I, for one, can't wait for Mai Song's dramatic A STAIN ON THIS HORSE monologue about this mess.
Seeing Jason Alexander without a half-nekkid head is as weird as seeing one of your old high school teachers on Grindr or like walking in on your abuelita changing from her day bra into her sleeping bra. It's a little weird. When Jason Alexander first came out with a teddy bear's butt cheek on his head, I figured it was for a role or maybe IN THIS ECONOMY he wanted to save money on SPF by wearing a hairbrella of sorts. But Jason says I figured wrong. Jason went on Twitter to explain that his head hairs have been quitting him since he was 17 and he wanted to be seen as something other than the "funny bald guy." Jason's long ass monologue about his toupee is here, but below is a piece of it.
What you see on my head is a really good, semi-permanent hairpiece. By semi-permanent I mean that I can wear it constantly for weeks at a time, if I so choose. I can swim, shower, work out -- whatever. It stays on. Or I can take it off any time of any day I choose. The reason it looks thin is that I challenged my designer to make me a piece that would look very similar to the way I did 10 years ago. So, it looks like a guy who is losing his hair and isn't an artificial mop of hair that I never had. The designer was dubious at first but he actually loves the look now. And the fact is that we are still playing around with the shape and density to make it as flattering and natural looking as we can.
In a few weeks, I may very well talk about who makes this system so that you can pursue it with them if you wish. But in general, for those men and women who have hair loss issues, I can tell you that these systems have become very easy to wear, very easy to handle and the adhesives that have developed give you great flexibility in regard to how often and how long you wear your system.
Good for Jason for coming clean about the piece on his head unlike certain wheezy old goat-footed queens that I will not name here. JOHN TRAVOLTA! But Jason is so serious about this shit (example: use of the word "dubious") and sounds like he's reading a testimonial for Jeremy Piven's wiglet collection. It's just a hair tile! It's not that serious, but it's still your duty to yank it off and throw it out of the window if you come face to hair piece with it.
If Jason's hair rug doesn't work out, he can give it to the moles who will raise it as their own or he can dye it green and give to a little girl who can use it as a putting green for her Barbie.
I was going to write about how Lauren Bush became Lauren Lauren in Colorado yesterday, but who gives two shits about that mess. Now, this is a wedding that is relevant to all of our interests. In this video from the olden days, we see what "can't get a man" spinsters did before Sex and the City marathons, Entenmann's and the late night companionship of an HSN operator.
Dog historians also say this is the exact moment when the Pekingese developed its signature suicide face. Known today as the "it's times like this that I wish Michael Vick would adopt me" face.