Spending most of your day tweet brawling with your Twitter haters while wearing a two piece and taking sips of your only meal of the day, a Corona Light, is really tiring work, and so it's no surprise that LeAnn Rimes checked herself into inpatient rehab yesterday for "anxiety and stress." Don't worry about going through withdrawals from not seeing pictures of a piñata stick in a 'kini, because I'm sure LeAnn will update us daily on her progress by Instagramming pictures of her wearing her de-stressing two-piece in group therapy.
"This is just a time for me to emotionally check out for a second and take care of myself and come back in 30 days as the best 30-year-old woman I can be. All the things in my life will be there when I get out, but you know what? I'm hoping they're not going to affect me as much. I'll have the tools to know how to deal with them."
LeAnn's rep added that even though hating whores are constantly cyber bullying her for having the body of a chicken bone, she's not in rehab to deal with an eating disorder or an addiction to mind-numbing substances. Her rep also said that she's still going to perform on the weekends, because she doesn't want to let down her fans.
Eddie also piped in with his own statement, because it's just another way to get his full name on People:
"My wife is the most remarkable and courageous woman I know. I am so proud of her for having the strength to finally take some time for herself. I will be with her every step of the way."
And Eddie went on to say, "I am also taking this time to de-stress, because constantly scrubbing random pussy juice smells out of my crotch while sitting in the driver seat of my car after fucking my side piece in the backseat has really taken a toll on my nerves."
Pete "Dreamboat" Doherty has joined the EXCLUSIVE and illustrious list of less than 12 addicts who have been kicked out of The Cabin rehab clinic in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Put that certificate of crackhead excellence on your wall, Dreamy! (I'm sure he will.) The doctors at The Cabin obviously think that smoking your own blood in a pipe made from mouse bones and your own freshly churned ass glue is "disruptive behavior," because that's what he was thrown out for.
NME says that Dreamy checked into the £7,200-a-month rehab clinic, which is deep in the jungles of Thailand, less than three weeks ago and was put on a plane back to London yesterday. The Cabin's director confirmed this sad (but not shocking) news with this statement:
"Pete was discharged today for therapeutic reasons. It is important to maintain the integrity of the treatment programme for the other clients to have a good chance of recovery. Pete understands this and therefore the reasons behind why we have asked him to leave. Although our parting with Pete is amicable, we are of course disappointed to see him leave. We hope some of the things he has learnt here will help him in the future and look forward to the day when Pete decides to consider recovery again."
First of all, the words "Pete" and "discharged" should never be used in the same sentence, because that image just gave my brain a yeast infection. Second of all, that is a calm and well-written statement coming from a rehab director whose retinas nearly tore into a dozen pieces as he stretched his eyeballs in terror while watching creatures feed on plaque dingles on Dreamy's teefs.
Oh, Dreamy, Dreamy, Dreamy.... I really thought that he was going to finally get it together after Amy Winehouse's death sent him into an extra bad place where he woke up in the middle of a rising flood of his own shit. I know that when I wake up and can do the backstroke in a sea of my own caca, I take that as a sign. I hate to type this and I never type this, but Dreamy needs JESUS! Get it together, Dreamy, before I say that you need Scientology. Don't make me type my way into that dark place.
The Situation's rep ("I hate my life." - The Situation's rep) pulled all of our dicks yesterday when he said that the charbroiled Don Knotts is currently in an "undisclosed location" to take a much-needed rest from his grueling schedule of screwing last call skanks, getting drunk in a sea of douches and doing non-stop stomach crunches to keep his rock hard 4-pack rock hard (it kind of looks like he has butt abs). The Situation's rep wanted to make it clear that he doesn't have a substance abuse problem, but that was a whole lot of lies in your eyes, because TMZ says that he's at Cirque Lodge in Utah to curb his addiction to prescription pills. The Sitch himself went on his Gawker knock-off blog to pretty much confirm that he's addicted to swallowing little white things:
I want to set the record straight. I have voluntarily taken steps to get control of a prescription medication problem I had due to exhaustion. I have spent the past several weeks getting treatment for this problem and recuperating from my work and appearance schedule. I appreciate my fans support and love you guys.
TMZ also lets us know that The Situation isn't letting his hunger for Adderall or Ambien (or whatever the hell he's guzzling down for "exhaustion") get in the way of him acting like a chewed up piece of foreskin wrapped in delusion. Apparently, the Situation is sashaying around Cirque Lodge like he's the biggest star there.
It's easy to make fun of this orange turtle, but if THIS was your brother, you too would have a stomach full of Pfizer products.
What's most surprising about all of this is that The Situation has fans . I'm guessing that all of The Situation's fans are high on EVERYTHING, so they must be conflicted about this sudden turn of events.
The word "exhaustion" is now in rehab for exhaustion, because it's truly tired of dumb ass lying bitches using it as an excuse for why they're drying out. TMZ reported earlier that The Situation has checked into rehab for "substance abuse" (see: anally-taken coke, Internet-bought roids, toxic jacuzzi water, Snooki's wookie cooze, etc...) issues, but his spokeswhore tells E! News that he's not addicted to the bad shit, he's just tired.
"He has spent the past several weeks at an undisclosed location for much needed rest and recuperation after his extensive production and appearance schedule."
Where I come from, that's called a vacation from a vacation.
You hos out there who got up at 5 this morning, walked the dog, woke your brats up, poured them cereal, made their lunches, washed your pits in the sink while dressing the young one, drove them to school, drove to work, worked for 5 hours, did your taxes during lunch, worked another 4 hours, drove home, made Hamburger Helper for dinner (I know how gourmet you are), did a load of laundry, spiked your kids' chocolate milk with Lunesta to get them to bed and drank half a bottle of wine by yourself in the garage before falling into a coma while taking a shit on the toilet MUST be superhuman. Seriously, check your back for circuit breakers, because you're definitely a robot.
I mean, The Situation is exhausted from doing absolutely nothing! Either The Situation is as delicate as a dew drop on a daisy petal or dude is lying about his addiction to fucking his nostrils with coke lines. Exhaustion? I CAN'T and I'm too tired to CAN. I should go to sleepy time rehab for that.
The percentage of coochies that have been Butlere'd plummeted to record lows earlier this month and it made the makers of the morning-after pill and lube cry themselves into the fetal position over their uncertain futures. But they can all slap themselves out of it, because Gerard Butler will be released back into the wild today and hopefully his ass will be better than ever. TMZ heard through the tip line that man slut extraordinare Gerard Butler has been drying out in the House of Betty Ford for the past three weeks. Gerard has been getting treated for an addiction to pain pills and cocaine (street name: Lohan powder).
A source type says that while shooting 300 back in 2006, Gerard suffered several injuries that left him fucked up physically and he started guzzling down painkillers to deal with the pain. Gerard's addiction to dolls got really out of control after he was badly hurt while shooting the surfing movie Of Men and Mavericks in Northern California in December. Gerard realized that he was a gay husband away from becoming Neely O'Hara and so he checked into rehab. The source also says that Gerard regularly tickles his nostrils with coke dust, but his main addiction is with painkillers. Gerard is supposed to check out of Betty Ford today.
Here's hoping that Gerard curbs his addiction soon, because there's a lot of lonely and cold assholes out there that need a poking from his no-no loving finger.
So far (and according to the media), Demi Moore's medical file reads like that of a high school asshole whose idea of a good time is huffing from gas tanks before fingering his girlfriend in the bathroom of a Hardee's during his break. Because Demi apparently gets hungry for the sweet nectar, whip-its, Adderall AND Red Bull. TMZ is hearing that long before Demi whipped her way to a seizure, she ate Red Bull for breakfast, Red Bull for lunch and Red Bull for dinner. For 10 years, Demi has been obsessively riding the Red Bull daily, but some source says that in the past few weeks she's been replacing food with Red Bull. I think I speak for AssStain Kutcher and all of the Willis daughters when I say, MOM, you're embarrassing me!
Someone from Red Bull tells TMZ that Demi is so hard up for that nasty shit that they regularly deliver shipments to her home. A different source says that when Demi was partying it up with Tater Head recently, she kept booze out of her mouth, but kept her tongue in a Red Bull all night long.
Red Bull, really, Demi? RED? BULL? The period blood of an actual bull probably tastes better than Red Bull. You know when you're making out with some nasty drunk and he burps out a vomit-infused burp cloud into your mouth? That's what Red Bull tastes like. I wouldn't be giving Demi shit if TMZ says she was addicted to underground Four Loko, or if she was caught buying homemade PURPLE DRANK from Brit Brit's Cheetolings in the back room of their playhouse. But I just can't with her Red Bull addiction. What's next? We're going to see Demi on an episode of True Life: I'm Addicted to XBox360? I bet Demi's bedroom windows are covered in tinfoil and she uses Transformers bed sheets as curtains.
I'm sad that nobody told Demi that the adult way of handling a divorce from a total douchebag is to fuck the pain away. When you're down and out, let the teaches of Peaches guide you.
Before we get into this, can I just say that relatives don't let relatives do the ayúdame lunge at a fucking Disney star. That little boy needs to adjust his side-eye a little to the right to focus on that woman with the Coach purse who is trying to reach out to Demi Lovato like she's a demigod who can heal all ailments or some shit. Okay, now that we've gotten that PSA out of the way...
Blind Gossip, the site that wrote the blind item about how some girl star is back to her snorting ways, has confirmed that their own blind item is about Demi Lovato. They heard from a friend of Demi's that she is going for another round of rehab and has checked into Passages in Malibu to get help for her addictions to booze and coke. Blind Gossip says that Demi's friends passed their blind item to her management team and it was the push in the asshole everyone needed to get her into treatment again. The moral of the story is: BLIND ITEMS SAVE LIVES! Blind items are the Candy Finnigan of the gossip world. But wait...
Demi's rep, one of the people who supposedly helped to get her into rehab, tells Gossip Cop that Blind Gossip's story is "a crock of shit."
Now, there's evidence FOR and AGAINST the rumor that Demi is clearing her blood veins of the bad shit next to the other Demi in rehab.
FOR: Demi recently put her Twitter page on pause and a thirsty ho like her would only do that if she was forced to hand over her communication device while checking into rehab.
AGAINST: Demi recently jumped off of Wilmer Valderrama's dick for a final time, which means that the inside of her head has finally reached a moment of clarity and she finally realized that Fez is a hit it, quit it, cleanse your coochie of it kind of douche.
But the evidence that is truly making me believe that this "DemiLo in rehab" rumor is false is the professional statement from DemiLo's rep. Only a professional, honorable and ethical individual would use the words "crock of shit" when discussing their client's personal life to the media. Or maybe Gossip Cop just happened to call Demi's rep as he discovered that his dog did god's work by taking a shit on his favorite pair of CROCs. That's probably what happened.
When even the powerful healing touch of Detective La Toya can't rebuke the demons out of you, it's time to pack up your exquisite pearl choker and matching cuff, and get your serial killer-faced boyfriend to drive you to rehab. This is exactly what Kim Richards of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has done. Anybody who watches that mess isn't surprised since Kim has barely been in any scenes lately. And when she is in a scene, she's scrambled in the brains and is about as coherent as a drunk Jerri Blank reading spam e-mails. Entertainment Tonight confirms that 47-year-old Kim is drying out at a clinic somewhere.
Kim went to rehab after the first season aired and it's not known what she's being treated for this time, but she told Adrienne's husband on a past episode that there's a Lexapro, Trazadone and Topamax party in her body.
Well, if rehab doesn't work this time at least she gets a break from packing and unpacking boxes. Seriously, Kim is always packing and unpacking. When Kim isn't weeping out memories while packing a keepsake from her childhood, she's calling the other housewives to tell them that she can't come to their stupid event because she's too busy packing! Bitch should go work for Moishes Movers. I bet Kim isn't in rehab for a pill popping addiction. She's in there for her addiction to PACKING!!!
Eric Dane's spokeswhore confirms to Star (via Radar) that he's oil wrestling with his internal demons in a rehab clinic somewhere in Los Angeles. Eric isn't in there to curb his craving for smoking crack in a tub full of Noxzema water. Eric is almost done with a 30-day program that will hopefully stop him from getting the hungries for dolls. His rep said this:
“Actor Eric Dane voluntarily checked himself into a treatment facility to help him get off of pain medication that he was prescribed for a sports injury that he suffered over the recent hiatus. He reports back to work next week. Business as usual."
Eric's wife and his co-star in the worst excuse for a sex tape ever, Rebecca Gayheart, has got a womb full of their second baby, so a source says that he's cleaning himself up and trying to get his shit together.
You know, Eric and Rebecca have already reminded me of the prettier and slightly more stable version of Charlie Sheen and Brooke Mueller. Like there's a thin layer of zipped up sleaze around them. If they invited you over, they'd probably sit really close to you on their velvet sofa and Eric would deep groan as he rubbed your thigh while Rebecca tried to get you to sip from a plastic cup that smells like boxed wine and Zicam.
But good for Eric for trying to clean his mess up. Eric does not want to be that father who takes his newborn baby to the emergency room and tries to get the doctors to prescribe it Xanax milk because he believes that its non-stop crying is due to an anxiety disorder. (Yes, everything I learned about stealing meds from a child I learned from Nurse Jackie.)
Here's Eric Dane looking like McMethy while using a stranger to play a dumb joke on the paparazzi in L.A. late last month.
Nancy Pelosi wants Weiner to pull out of congress, his wife is pregnant with their first child, he was under investigation for possibly making Chris Hansen's brow lift by having an online relationship with a 17 year old girl and so naturally he's trying to solve all of his problems by checking into a
Tweetment treatment center! Because when all else fails, hide your face (and wang) in rehab!
A rep for Anthony Weiner's office didn't say if he was officially going to resign (the rumor is he's going to do so next week when his wife comes back from the Middle East), but she did issue a statement of words which basically translates into "We hit the DAMAGE CONTROL button and it opened a trap door to rehab."
"Congressman Weiner departed this morning to seek professional treatment to focus on becoming a better husband and healthier person. In light of that, he will request a short leave of absence from the House of Representatives so that he can get evaluated and map out a course of treatment to make himself well."
Congressman Weiner takes the views of his colleagues very seriously and has determined that he needs this time to get healthy and make the best decision possible for himself, his family and his constituents."
Oh, I see he's going to that same rehab for dumb fucks Tiger Woods graduated from. First of all, a grown ass man talking to a teenager whose parents he doesn't know is never a good thing. It might end with your wrists in plastic handcuffs and Chris Hansen throwing you looks of judgement with those sultry eyes of his. Stay away from teenagers completely (that is a rule for everybody).
Second of all, I have the judgement of a cat in heat and the brain of a discarded garden toilet, and even I know how to take naked pictures if I don't want to get caught. Never show even a tip of your chin and always pose in front of a green screen so you can Photoshop in your background of choice. Always use an off-shore e-mail address (that made no sense) and keep all copies of the pictures safely stored in a cock ring flash drive. It's not hard.
Does the 9th district really want a congressman who doesn't know how to do cyber ho shit the right way?