Shia LaDouche was supposed to make his Broadway debut opposite Alec Baldwin and Tom Sturridge in the play Orphans, but he dropped out just a week into rehearsals and the old “creative differences” excuse was the reason given for why he quit that bitch. I figured that meant everybody was busy being creative while he was in the corner drunkenly punching a metal folding chair, because it told him his performance in Transformers was emotionally lacking. Others figured that Shia was fired because when he got into the same room as Alec, the asshole levels exploded and the 100-year-old bricks on the walls started to break and crumble. Those who figured that were right! I think.
A source told The New York Times that director Daniel Sullivan was worried about Shia’s “performance choices” and had several talks with Shia and the producers about this before he decided that the role should be recast. Shita (typo and it stays) couldn’t keep his mouth shut about this and he went a Twitter rampage last night, tweeting the e-mail he wrote to everyone involved in the production and then he posted everyone’s responses. Shia’s email was co-produced by his local weed dealer and Jack Daniels, because it is a rambling stream of melodramatic ridiculousness. If Game of Thrones was rebooted and set in 1940s
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Health warning signs have gone up all up and down the Jersey Shore, which could mean only one thing: the taint warts of MTV (and that’s saying a lot) are back and have started shooting their mess of a show today. If you’re in the Jersey Shore area, don’t forget to get caught up on all your shots and to slather liquid penicillin with SPF all over your body. It’s that season again!
Even though Snooki’s got a guidoling in her malt liquor-soaked womb, she’s still part of the cast and showed up looking six shades of FUG. It looks like a leopard swallowed a mash-up of every Cher era before wet farting it out all on Snooki. I want to say that bitch looks like Tattoo from Fantasy Island in drag as a Mötley Crüe groupie, but that would be offensive to the memory of Tattoo and to Mötley Crüe groupies.
And I’m pretty sure Snooki’s carrying her pickle spawn in her chichis.
What in the hell kind of GD shit is Johnny Depp on, because looking like this is only okay if you’re a hungover colorblind 8-year-old circa 1977 or if you’ve passed out in the bushes after fucking a hooker and she stole all your clothes so you had to get new ones from a nearby Salvation Army bin. No grown ass man should be wearing jeans by OshKosh B’Gosh. Johnny isn’t fighting the hotness, he’s killing it not-so-softly. Johnny is starting to make Keef Richards look fap-able.
Johnny looks like he smells like what peen cheese tastes like. Somebody needs to give this bitch a donation. But there is hope. Johnny is wearing a medium blue hanky on his right side and that means he’s into everything but 69ing. I hope “everything” includes giving him a full body soapy handjob in the shower and following it up with a Palmolive facial. It cuts the grease.
Blue Ivy Carter’s face twin, Ashanti, has to take what she can get, so when she sees a discarded, extra-long mattress on a darkened street, she has to get on top of it and pose, pose, pose! I get it. But what I do not get is the race car track over her chocha, the 5 o’clock shadow on her pits (I say whack it or let it grow wild), the eyelashes that look like a mini version of Mickey’s fan weave in B*A*P*S, the braid band and everything else. Bitch looks like if Cherry from Punky Brewster traveled into the apocalyptic future to work at a Nascar-themed strip club. I should not look at you and have the sudden urge to run a Micro Machine over your crotch. Ashatni needs to ASTOPni!
Since I’ve been on PST I’ve been rising from my dead coma a little after 5 every morning and I really don’t know how some of you opposite vampires do it. You must have an alarm clock that sprays out meth mist and if you do, please give me the SkyMall catalog number for it. 5am was invented so that sluts could do the walk of shame from their one night trick’s apartment to their apartment while it’s still sort of dark outside. It was not invented as a waking up hour. It’s just hurtful. But I’m going to stop about that before one of you e-mails me with: “Michael, suck on your mouse, because the children in Ethiopia get up at 4am!” Yes, I know! I also know that Ethiopian children have to make their morning coffee by banging coffee beans on a rock down by the river instead of pressing Mr. Coffee’s G-spot like I do. I know! Anyway….
So my brain is on 5am and I’m going through e-mails and there I see it…. A subject line that reads: NEW PICTURES ANDERSON COOPER SUNBATHING SHIRTLESS!!!!! The sleep crust melted from my eyeballs, the fapping nodule in my brain stood up and my finger pores started pre-cumming as I clicked the link. A lukewarm second after I did that,
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Here’s the couturiers of Sears, Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian, leaving Vera Wang’s store in Beverly Hills yesterday after a group of animal handlers fitted them for the dresses they’re going to wear to Kris Humphries’ soul-selling ceremony in a few days. What ever wang of Vera’s they’re going to throw over their bodies for the wedding will never be as horrifically fugly as the spool of Mrs. Roper’s vomit they wore to the store.
To be nice, I’ll say that Kourtney’s dress would look a lot better if it was cut up into a bunch of pieces and wrapped around the mouths of all the Kardashian-Jenners. Then it would be beautiful. But Khloe’s?! That hot pink parachute jumpsuit dress might look good on Jonte, but that’s about it. That circus jumpsuit dress makes Khloe look like she should be balancing on a ball under the big top while a clown in a top hat plays “U Can’t Touch This” on an accordion.
And I’m not a farmer, but does Khloe have pregnancy nose?
But first! We’re going to need some theme music to go with this post. Hit it!
Alicia Silverstone is a mom! YAY! Now turn that YAY upside down and you’ll get the word that will come out of your mouth after finding out what she named her baby. By the way, YAY upside down is ʎɐʎ, which means “huh” in Hebrew. Alicia and her husband Christopher Jarecki tell People that she birthed out her first vegan baby friend last Thursday and they have named him:
Bear Blu Jarecki
BEAR! Bear is what you describe yourself as on your Manhunt profile when you’ve got hair on your shoulders and a fupa that won’t be ignored. Bear is also what you name your Golden Retriever if you want to be the 123,965th person at your vet’s office who has a dog named Bear. Bear blew sounds like what one of John Travolta’s sauna hookers writes on his client profile under “describe his performance.” Bear Blu is not what you name a baby!
What the hell kind of quinoa is Alicia snorting?
James Franco continues to turn the art and cinema worlds upside down and on their faces (not really) with the avant garde creativity that pours out of his orifices and here’s a still from another project that I’m sure historians will discuss at great length for years to come! James Franco Tweeted (Franco has since put his Twitter in a coffin) this picture from his short movie with Harmony Korine of him pushing out an “eh…whatever” while a group of nekkid ass nekkid bloodettes jump him in their gang, or something. You probably need a masters in art to understand this shit, so I’m not even going to try. If you want to see James Franco unimpressed by silver dollar pancake nipples, (NSFW) click here for the full shit.
Franco should’ve given us this kind of mess during the Oscars. It would’ve perked things up in more ways than one. Speaking of the Oscars, James talked to David Letterman in a show airing tomorrow about how both of them bombed harder than Jessica Simpson’s ass after a Mexican buffet as Oscar hosts. Letterman admitted that he sucked and James responded with:
“They didn’t say you were stoned. People said I was under the influence.”
I love her (Anne Hathaway), but … I think the Tasmanian Devil would look stoned standing next
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Somewhere in a nursery in the bowels of Hell, one of Satan’s minions is cradling his new spawn while adjusting her crotch-killing C-section panties that look just like the bikini bottoms Ke$ha Travolta wore to visit a pineapple under the sea the beach in Adelaide, Australia today. Who knew that the demon shop workers of the underworld were so skilled at weaving fabric with their claws?
If you want to look like Grandpa Munster working his shit on the cover of Sports Illustrated: Fupa Edition, this is definitely the unflattering bikini for you!
On a positive note, Ke$ha is a card carrying member of the “Don’t Give A Fuck As Long As You Take My Picture” Club, so she just doesn’t give a fuck as long as she hears those clicks. And yes, just like Ke$ha’s music, these pictures need more auto-tune.
Anne Hathaway is the next Catwoman and this ho showed up to an event for her new movie Rio dressed like a damn cat toy. The top part of Anne’s outfit says “9-year-old know-it-all circa 1987” and the bottom part says “mariachi clown.” Just no. The only way this outfit would work outside of a little girl’s slumber party is if it was dyed pink and put on the body of Charo. That’s it. However, I will say that I like Anne’s necklace. It looks like all the things you’d find inside of Tommy Girl’s favorite fuck toy drawer. Butt beads, travel-sized dildos, etc…. Yup, the necklace can stay!
Here’s more of Anne wearing the finest clothes from Gymboree’s black label collection with George Lopez and Jamie Foxx (whose hairline is almost as well manicured as Norwood Young’s).
