It was a bittersweet day for Matthew McConaughey on Friday. It was sweet, because his wife Camila Alves birthed out their third kid together. It was bitter, because he couldn’t pass around pink or blue joints since he’s only nibbling on leaves and drinking cups of cold air to play Ron Woodruff. Matthew busted out a smiley face while making his baby samba out of Camila’s cooch by playing her baby bump like a bongo drum, but then he quickly busted out a frowny face when he realized that he can’t take a congratulatory puff from his favorite bong.
The Texas T-Rex hasn’t said anything about his third kid on Twitter, yet, but sources tell People that Camila gave birth in Austin, TX on Friday. People’s source needs to be a better source, because they don’t know if Camila had a boy or a girl and they don’t know the kid’s name. Useless source!
Matthew and Camila’s 3-year-old daughter is named Vida and their 4-year-old son is named Levi, so I hope they did the right thing by naming their new kid Loca. If you put a little chili on your tongue and say the names Levi, Vida and Loca really fast, it sort of sounds like Livin’ La Vida Loca!
Bitches can stop throwing Jessica Simpson a “GUUURRRRRL, you just swallowed three lifetimes of Weight Watchers points” side-eye when she puts her mouth around a Pop-Tarts and three sticks of butter sandwich, because she’s eating buttered Pop-Tarts for two now. Jessica tweeted this picture of Baby Maxwell this morning and it’s her way of letting everyone know that she’ll be birfing out her second baby in about 98 weeks or so. My hungover eyes saw this pic and thought the words read “BIG TITS.” That makes sense too since the last time Chestica got knocked up, her chichis grew to the size of Papa Joe’s bulging eyeballs when he sees a hairless, blonde twink sashaying by.
About a month ago, UsWeekly put a No Vacancy sign over Jessica’s uterus when they said that she came down with another case of the babies just a few months after she gave birth to Baby Maxwell. Then Weight Watchers threw a mountain of money at her, she lost 50 pounds and then said, “Fuckit, losing weight is overrated, I’m hongray!“
Weight Watchers didn’t miss a second and tweeted some words for Chestica:
Congrats to @JessicaSimpson, Eric and big-sister-to-be Maxwell! Your WW family is so thrilled for you. What an amazing year you’ve had!
Translation: “Um, here’s the receipt, can we go our moneys back?”
But really, congratulations to Chestica, Whatshisname and the makers of Pop-Tarts who will have another record-breaking year!
via People
I should be up to date on the vacancy status of Angela Chase’s uterus, but I’m not, so the ball of popped bubble wrap I call a brain completely forgot that she was knocked up. But Claire Danes is not knocked up anymore, because she gave birth to her first kid sometime yesterday. Seeing the words “Claire Danes” and “pregnant” in the same sentence makes me remember the days when Billy Crudup left a knocked up Mary-Louise Parker for her ass. Anyway, People has all the details you care about (aka the baby name):
It will be a very happy holiday for Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy!
The Homeland star, 33, and her actor husband welcomed their first child, son Cyrus Michael Christopher Dancy, on Monday, Dec. 17, her rep confirms to PEOPLE exclusively.
Yes, CYRUS MICHAEL CHRISTOPHER. That baby is a first name hoarder. How many first names does one baby need?! Bitch should’ve paid tribute to her roots by naming her kid Rickie Rayanne, but she just had to go with Cyrus. Cyrus as in Billy Ray. Cyrus as in that annoying movie starring Jonah Hill. Cyrus as in the guy from The Real World: Boston who spelt it “Syrus” and got in trouble for sexing the mother of a student from the after-school program he volunteered at.
The only good thing about Claire and Hugh giving their kid the name Cyrus is that when he grows up and writes a tell-all about how he hates them for naming him Cyrus, he can call it “Cyrusiously tho?“
Thank our current reigning God, Bea Arthur, that the celebrity trend of debuting their baby’s face on InstaWitter, FaceGram or TwitBook FOR FREE is temporarily over and celebrities are back to showing off their baby on the cover of a weekly magazine. Drew Barrymore waited 9 weeks until she put her daughter Olive in front of People’s cameras, because that’s usually when a newborn baby doesn’t look like an adorable bag of wet yams anymore. Drew also talked to People and said stuff about being a mom for the first time:
On how being a new mom made her so nervous that she went on the Anne Hathaway Oscar diet for two weeks: “I couldn’t eat or sleep for two weeks, I was just so nervous!”
On how she’s obsessed with her baby and is pretty much stalking her: “It’s like the biggest crush I’ve ever had in my life!”
On how raising a baby is a helluva drug: “You have the highest highs and yet you’re facing the biggest fear of, ‘How do I keep someone alive?’”
Drew Barrymore brings up a seriously good point that I’ve never thought about. I’m afraid of having chirruns, because most of them are greedy, shifty and it’s all about them. I mean, some nights you just want to be left alone with your bottle of vodka and they’re
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The mournful wail of a sad Falcor has been filling the valleys of Los Angeles every night, because LeAnn Rimes is crying about possibly losing the only thing that keeps her in the tabloids: her gold digging husband Eddie Cibrian. Eddie is living a life of luxury, but it’s hard for him to fully enjoy caviar and champagne when it’s been tainted by the insanity that LeAnn spews out every second of the day.
A source, whose name probably rhymes with Candy ManPill, tells Star Magazine (via Radar) that Eddie is regretting the day he legally became LeAnn’s kept bitch. LeAnn is on the opposite side of sane and Eddie can’t take it anymore. Eddie told LeAnn that he needs to spend some time away from her craziness (read: stick his head in a side piece’s crotch until the ringing in his hears from listening to LeAnn’s crazed screeches goes away). Meanwhile, LeAnn thinks that if she fills her womb with a squinting foal or colt, Eddie will stay. The source said this:
“It never seems to end. He can’t take all of the drama anymore. He told her he needs some time alone to get his head together.
Eddie has to pay child support for [his sons with Brandi Glanville,] Mason and Jake. And let’s face it, his career is at a
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Full Story »I don’t care if you’re already sick of the blogosphere’s fawning, today is Ryan Gosling’s birthday and that is practically an internet holiday. (Not to mention an actual one. Shout out to the veterans out there.) And unlike you Gosling latecomers out there who jumped on the Baby Goose train after The Notebook, some of us have been faithful fans for almost two decades now, and that kind of lifelong dedication warrants an entire post full of internet videos, okay?
So for all my fellow Goslingheads out there I’d like to take a trip back in time to when Baby Goose was not an actual baby, but a pre-pubescent star in the making. A bright shining star who loved that smooth, smooth ’90s R&B. Let’s rewind to his youth and ours. Let’s take it back to the Mickey Mouse Club.
Because when I think Ryan Gosling, I think Jodeci:
…and Boyz II Men:
…and this sweet denim vest:
… and answering Mouse Mail with JC Chasez:
… and his hometown of Cornwall, Ontario, Canada, “the place where most of the stuff is happening”:
… and his early flair for comedy:
… and that one time he and Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake and Xtina passed notes in class:
… and how he and Justin Timberlake should do a buddy comedy together now that they’re both hot Hollywood properties even though they never seem to hang out in public, and what’s up with that because weren’t they like totally MMC besties?
But when it comes to that patented Gosling “Hey Girl” touch, let’s skip ahead a few years to the teenagers-on-a-boat series Breaker High to witness the…
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