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Kim Kardashian (allegedly) wants to get in Jeremy Lin s pants. She would.
Associated Press
Kim Kardashian (allegedly) wants to get in Jeremy Lin s pants. She would.

Linconceivable!

Or whatever “Lindiom” you want to throw in there. Lin + idiom? Crickets?

Shut up. Linyourface, bitches. Stop Linterrupting me.

Ah, for fuck’s sake.

(Insert celeb gossip site here) is reporting that Kim Kardashian is going on a date with NBA’s new boy toy, Jeremy Lin.

She thinks he’s “cute” and had her publicist “arrange for her to go on a ‘date'” with him, according to whatever rag that was spewing shit.

(Le schedule de Hollywood Headaches rarely has the chance to hug celebrity gossip, ergo the “important” details are oftentimes flushed with the fishies. I mean sent to the family farm in Michigan. Quit crying, sissy.)

Lin told ESPN that he wouldn’t go out with Kim because he’s “not that type of guy.”

Neither are we, Jer Bear. Said Linormous black hole of filth makes for dirty bed sheets. We’re too lazy to do laundry.

Now I’m going to punch myself Lin the face for Lin-ing all over the place. I’ve created quite a mess.

Baby Timber-Biel

Timmmmmmber!

Since Justin Timberlake reportedly proposed to Jessica Biel, we wonder how the actress locked down the Jack-of-all-Hollywood?

Holy cock-block, Catwoman: The street told me there’s an 8-pound faux-bject weighing down JT’s mansack.

(It’s not Cameron Diaz: she weights at least 17 pounds. And Biel packs a hefty 11 from behind.)

According to Perez Hilton (the street), the pair is knocked up.

She’s not a virgin? I want my money back, Rev. Camden.

Oh dear.

We go bad

Star mag reports that Miley Cyrus has been spiraling downward with “partying, drinking and using drugs.”

Someone fax Star stat and tell them that us schoolgirls expire at 18. We dive bra-first into a pile of “sins.”

She’s 19. Let it go.

If any of us had that kind of money at 19, we’d be nose-diving through powder whiter than Gingrich’s pompadour.

Speak for yourselves.

Goop, goop, goop

After reading the headline, “How Gwyneth Paltrow Sculpts Sexy Arms at 39,” the suspense was met with a hefty dose of indigestion.

How, one ponders, does GP sculpt said sexy arms at 39?

It’s a mystery. Let’s speculate.

She benches Madonna like a barbell. She curls le petit femme-voiced husband like a dumbbell. She juggles the ill-named spawn like kettle bells. She faux-Brit rants while feng shui-ing Stonehenge like a non-belle. Or she paddles Beyonce’s booty like a cowbell? Shit yeah.

She’s toned, so when our land of (GMO) milk and (nitrate) honey (-baked ham) ridicules her pure arrogance — like we do — at least she’ll have some buff to back up her bitch.

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