Chichis

Looking like the Ghost of Fame Whores Present, Kim Kartrashian walked into a frozen yogurt place in Sherman Oaks, CA yesterday and that tension you feel is from her bra using its last strength to hold up her two ton titty balls. Maybe it's because I'm so used to seeing Kim looking like a pork sausage busting out of its leather casing, but titty trauma and face aside, this isn't completely hurting my eyeballs. I mean, the good news is that she isn't suffocating her bump with ten layers of Spanx and a leather skirt that's tighter than Kanye's b-hole after he got anal rejuvenation surgery the first time. If Kim continues to let her bump breathe, then maybe her publicity stunt baby won't be born all elongated and with its eyes smushed shut, which I guess is a bad thing since then it'll be able to clearly see who its parents are.

And replacing Botox with an all-natural replacement (aka Kanye's ass syrup) is making Kim's face morph back into its original state. She looks like a Saw puppet version of OctoMom.

In other Kartrashian news, TMZ says that Kim won't be in court on the first day of her divorce war against Kris Humphries, because she has to whore out her new bottle of stank water in NYC. Kim's lawyer tried to get the date moved from May 6th to May 3rd, but the judge denied her. Kim doesn't have to be in court on the first day anyway. Kim is expected to testify on the second or third day of the trial, so that gives Pimp Mama Kris plenty of time to program a pre-written script of lies into her hard drive.

The rhinestones of desperation sparkling above Jennifer Love Hewitt's chocha aren't the most precious things on her body. JLove tells USA Today (via HuffPo) that a pair of Brink's security guards should be guarding her chichis at all times, because they're that spectacular, that special and they're worth more than Heidi Klum's legs and Holly Madison's Tupperware titty bowls combined.

JLove's favorite part of her body are her 36C tits and she says it's the only part she'd have insured, because they've made her a millionaire.

"I need, like, an insurance invitation. If somebody was like, 'Hey, you know what? We would like to insure your boobs for $2.5 million dollars,' I'd be like, 'Do it. Love it! Why not? These things right here are worth $5 million!"

JLove must've bedazzled her nipples (nippleizzing?) with canary diamonds, because that's the only way her tits would be worth $5 million. I mean, Dolly Parton insured her historical site titties for only $600,000 and her chichis are at the top of the list of national treasures right above Mount Rushmore, John Travolta's wig and Jon Hamm's Hammaconda.

And before JLove makes all the geckos roll their eyes by calling up Geico to get an estimate for her titties, she needs to fire who ever's in charge of gluing tiny broom brushes onto her eyelids. The wonky lash look does not become her. JLove should leave that look to Amanda Bynes.

In this promo picture for Lee Daniels' The Butler, Terrence Howard isn't only sniffing through the cigarette smoke to see if the beautiful scent of a freshly baby wiped ass if wafting off of Oprah, but he's also thinking about how he wants to titty fuck her with his nose. While doing an interview with Movie Fanatic (via TMZ) for his new movie Dead Man Down, Terrence was asked what it was like working with The Mighty O on The Butler. You can practically hear Terrence's tip get moist (sounds like this) when he creams on and on about how he got to suffocate his face on Oprah's chichis. The inspiration for Morris Day's character in Purple Rain lubed up Oprah's 9" dick of an ego with these words of praise for her beauty:

"Oprah and I had such chemistry. To be able to make out with Oprah and to have love scenes with her and those tig ol' bitties. I mean, she's such a lovely and voluptuous woman. She's very, very beautiful and that was wonderful."

Strangely enough, that's exactly what Gayle King says when people ask her what it's like being Oprah's best friend.

Strangely STRANGELY enough, that's almost exactly what Oprah says when people ask her what it was like interviewing Beyonce.

Every time Terrence speaks, I feel like I have to take a baby wipe to my brain and now I feel like I have to take a whole box to my brain after thinking about Terrence slobbering all over Oprah's chichis. Oh, Terrence, you creepy, horny fuck, you.

Kate Upton really is our modern day messiah. Jesus died for your sins and Kate Upton almost died just so millions could fap to this picture of her in Antarctica. Even though Kate Upton's Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition cover shoot looks like it was done at the penguin exhibit at the San Diego Zoo, she swears they really shot it in Antarctica and she has the frostbite scar on her ass cheek to prove it. Kate was on Today (via UsWeekly) this morning to talk about getting the cover for the second year in a row and she says that posing half naked in sub zero temperatures caused her to suffer temporary blindness and her eardrums froze over and she ALMOST DIED, but at least she looks hot in the pictures! And that's ALL that matters.

"It was freezing. I'm from Florida, so it wasn't great for me. I can't believe we were all able to accomplish that. I was thinking warm thoughts. When I came back, I was losing hearing and eyesight. Because my body was shutting down -- working so hard to keep me warm.

The penguins kept me going! They're adorable. Anytime I was like, 'I can't do it anymore, I can't do it!' I would look at them and I was like. Okay, for them . . . "

Yes, Kate Upton has a freezer burned clit, frost bitten nipples and they had to pour brandy from a St. Bernard's barrel collar on her ass after her culito lips froze shut, but it was all worth it! And I even love how Kate Upton is covering for the penguins. Girl, please. We all know that the dude penguins mistook her chichis for extra extra extra extra extra extra extra extra extra large penguin eggs and nearly scratched her body up with their claws while fighting over who got to sit on them.

And I hate myself for turning a post about frost bitten nipples into a post about penguins fighting over eggs. I was never the same after seeing March of the Penguins.

Last April, Mayim Bialik (professional name: Dr. Blossom) told the readers of her blog and then told everyone else about how her 3 and a half year old son Fred was still slurping leche out of her nipples. Dr. Blossom is all about attachment parenting, so she said at the time that she's going to let Fred nurse on her chichis for as long as he wants. Some pictured a 21-year-old Fred sitting at a bar and ordering a cup of vodka before asking Dr. Blossom to squirt her leche into it so he can have a White Russian. But Frank won't be enjoying a night cap from her nipple when he's 30, because Dr. Blossom announced on her site today that he has quit her tit!

Dr. Blossom writes that Fred first quit weaning at night and then around Thanksgiving, they had their last breastfeeding moment together. Some days when Dr. Blossom looks down at her rigatoni nipples, she misses it a little:

As I sat on the couch in the very room where he was born four years and three months prior, he latched on happily and only nursed for a minute or two that day, since toddler nursings tend to not be long at all, especially when they start spreading them out by several days. He typically nursed from both sides since I was prone to clogged ducts for most of our nursing relationship, and it became our habit to make sure both sides were nursed on.

That day, though, he was distracted by his older brother shouting something, laughing, playing in the next room. His big blue eyes with the impossibly long tapered lashes darted around and settled on the next room, the source of the voice, his beloved older brother who himself had nursed two years and change. The world beyond my breast was calling, and he hopped off of my lap and ran to the world waiting for him.

That was the last time Fred nursed. I wanted to shout after him, “Choo-Choo, you forgot the other side!” But I didn’t. I held my tongue and watched him go. My big boy. In jeans. With a big boy haircut, finally, after years of golden locks begging for either an upsheren (ritual first haircut at age 3) or a Farrah Fawcett photo shoot. Fred was done nursing. Fred weaned. Sweet baby Fred who cared for me as I cared for him: we made it.

Fred did not ask about nursing for weeks after that day. And it wasn’t until much more recently–it’s been three months now since he nursed–that he asked to nurse. But now when he asks, he knows it’s funny. That he’s a big boy. That he doesn’t drink nummies anymore.

He’s done. Fred weaned.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being able to latch him on and make it all better. We have other ways to soothe Fred now.

I always felt like it's her kid and her chichis, so whatever. Besides, who am I to judge? I think I've said this before, but I was a thumbsucker until the third grade. Bitches used to make fun of my thumbsucking ways, so I would suck my thumb under my desk. And yes, I realize that I just set myself up for a perfect joke, so have at it.

So congratulations to Fred! Congratulations to Dr. Blossom! Congratulation to Dr. Blossom's tits! And congratulations to all of us for knowing this!

And according to Urban Dictionary, "nummies" is when you feel a numbing sensation on your gums after rubbing coke on them. So now I'm picturing a 4-year-old rubbing coke on his gums. ("Awww, I remember when I taught Lindsay how to do that. Memories!" - White Oprah)

via ONTD

As J. Harvey told your asses yesterday, Sofia Vergara's piece of trash fiancé Nick Loeb got kicked out of a club in Miami on New Year's Eve after her got into a mini-brawl, which ended with Sofia's chichis nearly spilling out of her party dress. I know, bitches will Instagram and tweet pictures of their belly button dandruff and combination platter from El Torito, but nobody Instagram'ed or tweeted a picture of Sofia's chichis trying to escape the rage by jumping out of her dress? We have got to tweet better.

So because the world was reminded that Nick Loeb is a first-class dick pimple, Sofia Vergara tried to do a little damage control by holding his hand all happy-like on Miami Beach yesterday afternoon. Whatever. But what I want to know is, what good qualities does Nick Loeb have, because I don't know of any. Yes, Nick Loeb is a hot dog topping entrepreneur, but he's also a chronic cheater, a mean drunk, a party ruiner and always looks like he's letting out a slow, angry fart. What's to love?

Maybe in this picture, Sofia is giving us a clue as to what Nick Loeb's one good quality is. Maybe she's trying to tell us that he's hung like a rolled lunch napkin. That's still not enough. I don't care if you poured a thick layer of Onion Crunch on top of Nick's foot long dick, I still would NOT. ("Yes, you would." - you "No comment." - me)

LeAnn Rimes' nipple obviously just peeked out of her blazer to gaze at that cotton candy wave of hotness before it.

Eddie Cibrian and LeAnn Rimes, the sole target of Brandi Glanville's PLEASEH8HER campaign, made an appearance and did some neigh-ing at the 4th anniversary of the NOH8 campaign at Avalon Hollywood last night. Sometimes when you wear a blazer with no shirt, bra or nip tape, your tit knob pops out just to say what's up and that's what happened to LeAnn last night. If you really need to see LeAnn's striped chichi and nip, click here.

You know, anybody who watches The Real Plasticwives of Beverly Hills knows that Brandi loves all kinds of nipple flashes. Brandi is a fame whore who loves flashing her nipples and she loves watching other fame whore flash their nipples. So she should put down her shank and get nip-to-nip with LeAnn Rimes as they hug their differences away. They should bond over their love of nip flashing.

Make nip slips, not war.

Every now and again, ageless flower Jennifer Tilly has to remind everyone that Christina Hendricks isn't the only demure beauty in Hollywood who can suffocate and push up her titty globes so that it looks like she's smuggling Right Said Fred in her dress. At The Dream Foundation Gala in Santa Barbara, CA on Friday night, Jennifer put her glorious butt cheek chichis on display. Yes, I get seriously hypnotized by a pair of magnificent chichis, but I'm gay, so my eyes still wandered down to her shoes and Jennifer's shoes are a new kind of fugly.

One of my friends from junior high school invited me over to his grandma's house after school one day and the first thing she said to me when I walked through her front door was, "Don't go in my 'nice' living room." I didn't go in, but I looked in. Grandma watched Anna Karenina way too many times, because her nice living room looked like a low-budget Trading Spaces room inspired by baroque-era Russia. I have never seen so much gold spray paint and so many plastic roses in my life and that's saying a lot, because I've been inside of many Catholic churches in East L.A. Grandma's room put the BA-ROKE in baroque. Jennifer Tilly's feet look like grandma's fancy living room barfed on them.

Even though Jennifer Tilly's shoes look two baroque dingles, I can't hate on them fully. Because I'm sure that every time Jennifer took a step in those hideous heels, her chichis bounced slightly and it looked like two clouds blowing in the wind. Those heels are ugly, but they still served the greater good.

Here's more of Tilly titty's at the Dream Foundation Gala. Katy Perry and the Plastic Vampiress of Graceland were also there.

Since today's theme is turning into cleavage of all kinds, here's Kat Dennings hiking her chichi balls up so high that the feet of the angels can practically touch them. The Emmys should've opened last night with Kat and Christina Hendricks trying to hug, because that would've been a real show. It would've looked like four baby sumo wrestlers head butting each other over and over again. No, the Emmys didn't do that. They decided to hand out a bunch of awards to a bunch of boring ass shows instead.

You know what would've been easier? If they just showed a live shot of a dump truck backing up into Honey Boo Boo Chile's front lawn and dumping hundreds upon hundreds of trophies in front of her house. The Emmys can retire forever, because no other show will come close to reaching the levels of artistic excellence that Here Comes Honey Boo Boo has reached. Just give Mama June all the Emmys and everyone can go home.

But the dumb bitches at the Emmys didn't do that either. They spent 3 hours passing out trophies and you can click here for a full list, but I threw some of the winners after the cut. If you say the line "Should've been Mama June's Forklift Foot" after reading each winner's name, you'd be telling nothing but the truth! GO!

Christina Hendricks' husband can't believe his life either. His face has rarely moved out of that expression ever since Christina asked him, "Do you want to just slip the ring on my left nipple since you haven't looked at my face once!" during their wedding ceremony.

Mad Men went into the Emmys last night with 17 nominations and they walked away with nothing but a handful of drink tickets to use to drown their sorrows in the sweet nectar after losing EVERYTHING. Jon Hamm was nominated for Outstanding Actor in a Drama and he didn't get shit. Christina Hendricks was nominated for Outstanding Supporting Actress and she also didn't even get a tiny dingle out of the Emmy statue's ass. The only thing Mad Men won was the title of losingest TV show of all time. Northern Exposure and The Larry Sanders show both held the record for the most Emmy losses in one year (16 each) and so Mad Men beat both of their asses.

After THAT episode, I really thought I'd see Christina Hendricks on stage, balancing a trophy on her magnificent chichis while giving an acceptance speech, but that didn't happen. The Emmy bitches also didn't do the right thing by giving a very special humanitarian award to Jon Hamm's hamm loaf for enriching lives (and fuck parts) and making the world a better place. I swear, I was going to throw hate at January Jones for showing up looking like a goth alien going to a funeral, but her entire look was fitting.

And here's a few more pictures of the Mad Men cast who all took turns crying on the shoulders of Jon Hamm's peen (yes, it's so big it has shoulders): Christina Hendricks with her husband, The Hamm with Jennifer Westfeldt, Elisabeth Moss, JJ, Sally Draper and that one who sings that French song.