W hat’s this bullshit? Bradley Cooper? J. Lo?
What a horrible match. Co-mingle the crabs quickly, then next.
Bradley. What the hell?
Kat Von D and Jesse James split.
Perhaps someone was dipping a needle in prostitute ink.
Funny tangent: TLC just canceled “L.A. Ink.”
“I am not in a relationship,” Kat recently wrote on her Facebook page.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, Kat.
We laymen are accustomed to celebrity news via Twitter. Get it together.
Why are we still talking about this? He’s a wrinkled douche.
The Pratts are back
Spencer Pratt took a brief hiatus to highlight his taint hair.
We missed him. Now he’s back.
But, only because he’s broke, owes money and can’t get his agent to call him back, according to a “source” to Us Weekly.
Well. Time to pawn the wife’s jugs for a case of wine coolers so he can drown those sorrows like a big, strong man.
Eddie Cibrian defends wifey
Blah, blah,LeAnn Rimes, blah, blah, jutting bones, blah, blah, fright in a bikini, blah, blah, fingers for dessert.
Rimes’ husband Eddie Cibrian is defending his wife’s oft-ridiculed slim figure.
“Whenever you get a picture taken of you, there’s always an angle that looks unflattering for anybody and it’s unfair to use those pictures as the basis of the way that you actually really look,” he said.
LeAnn, it would be much easier if you just carry Fiona Apple in your purse. She folds up nicely. Whenever a paparazzo swarms, whip her out and position her parallel.
Jeez, you look fat in that outfit.
The struggles of Sly
Sly Stone is struggling.
After the 68-year-old funk and soul legend snorted away his Napa Valley compound (he had a damn vineyard!) he is living in a camper van in L.A.
“I like my small camper,” he told the New York Post. “I just do not want to return to a fixed home. I cannot stand being in one place. I must keep moving.”
Right. Sly, pride tastes good between a ciabatta roll dressed with ranch. Swallow it. You’re homeless.
Apparently he has spent wads of cash on cars and motorcycles, many which were gifted to friends.
The good news is, he’s still recording music in his van.
“Please tell everybody, please, to give me a job, play my music. I’m tired of all this shit, man,” he told the Post. “Let these guys know, like Lady Gaga, let me come in, just let me come in and pay me if you like it.”
No, Sly. Don’t go that route.
Find those fuckjobs you hooked up throughout fame. Capture their basement. Attack.
Now go change your diaper.