I have a large crush on Rob Zombie.
He's not in my laminated top five, but he definitely makes my panties rage like it's 1965. (Thunder Kiss-style.)
But this burly, tattooed, shock-rockin' death growl of a man is bitching about noise coming from a skate park down the street from his home in a quaint little Connecticut town.
He and his slam piece, Sheri Moon Zombie, want the racket moved elsewhere.
"We do know the Zombies ... and they are just normal people like anyone else in our town," First Selectman Gerald Stomski said.
(Great quote. And also, what the shit is a first selectman?)
Alas, Mr. Selectman said the town is planning to noise-proof the park and such. Meanwhile Rob and wife Sheri are going to go skin some northern sewer shrews and wear the rodent's faces to the neighborhood crumpet party.
Seth Rogen has been named the Roast Master for the "Comedy Central Roast of James Franco" that will premiere on Sept. 2.
The "Pineapple Express" pals have been besties, of sorts, since the short-lived 1999 series "Freaks and Geeks."
Although Franco caught heat for passing out in class while attending Colombia in 2009 (who cares) and sought out a soap opera stint on "General Hospital," the dude gets my props for choosing quite the eclectic roles.
My hopes of how the Roast plays out: Everyone will get fake-baked on synthetic marijuana and start picking each other's skin. Then Andy Dick will stick his last name in between Gilbert Gottfried's duck bill while Lisa Lampanelli and Dane Cook have repulsive sex on stage to make the most aggravating spawn ever.
Meanwhile, Seth and James will be facedown in the David Hasslehoff because they tore through a couple dozen banana kush brownies.
Chris Brown tweeted that he's going to stop making albums soon.
Now he can go back to his day job, where the suckers smell like punches and the sandwiches taste like knuckles.
Maybe he and A-Rod can start a fight club.
Beware, pals. These boys will beat your ass, slip and break their hips and then begin a torrid affair with that sultry broad we dub "hospice."
Much like that "Fart and the Flatulent" series with Vin Diesel, Paul Walker and Co., Sylvester Stallone is recruiting some saggy balls to star in "The Expendables 3."
The last time this many old dudes were in the room, they had to slice open Playmate Crystal Harris' esophagus to remove copious amounts of gray pubeballs. Cough.
To add fury to Sly's reunion, he tweet-slapped Bruce Willis after Willis found out he won't be reprising his role in the third film, as he and Stallone apparently didn't part on good terms.
"WILLIS OUT... HARRISON FORD IN !!!! GREAT NEWS !!!!! Been waiting years for this!!!!" chirped Mr. Rocky Balboa.
So yeah. Harrison Ford signed on.
That's Dr. Richard Kimble. Jack Ryan. Han Solo. Indiana Jones!
For shame, HarBear. You sell-out of an Ally McBeal-banging man.
My grandma's doily will go real nice with that absurd diamond earring you sport in your left ear (a look so fierce, it has its own Facebook fan page, facebook.com/HarrisonFordsEarring).