While sharing the green carpet with other bright shining A-listers like Scott Isadick, Khloe Kartrashian, Hot Piece Mauricio, Kyle Richards and Lisa Rinna at a McDonald's party last night, Brandi Glanville wore leather gloves and some just figured she had a layer of hand skin peeled off, because she wanted her hands to look as plastic as her face. But Brandi tweeted at Celebitchy to let them know that she covered up her hand with a leather glove, because it's got a serious burn on it. Brandi just had to tweet a picture of it. Brandi didn't say how she burned her hand, but I'm guessing she either fisted a ginger or burnt it while cooking meth on a cooktop. It happens.
If that burnt hand picture didn't make you feel queasy enough, UsWeekly has a picture that'll take you over the edge. It's the closest Brandi has gotten to having a Heiman in CENTURIES!
Here's more pictures of Brandi and those other hos at last night's McDonald's event. Yes, Brandi's face looks like it has all the Botox in it, but it's still more natural than anything McDonald's puts between two buns.
Drop the phone, you don't have to make a three-way call to the authorities and Chris Hansen. I know this looks like a a psychopathic creepster planting a threatening kiss on the forehead of the terrified teenager he kidnapped from the mall. But this is actually a kiss of love that 42-year-old Olivier Sarkozy gave to his 26-year-old girlfriend Mary-Kate Olsen at the Mavericks vs. Knicks game in NYC. 16 years isn't that big of an age difference, but sometimes she looks like she's barely twelve and he's a rough 42. He also looks like Tom Hanks after falling face first out of a tree and then getting attacked by ten swarms of bees. His face kind of looks like an inside/out mask. But you know, the dick must be good and he obviously loves some troll poon, because they've lasted longer than I thought.
On a different note, WHERE ARE HIS EYES?! Did his eyes refuse to take part in this fuckery and quit his face?
When you're about to close your eyes to go to sleep tonight, just remember that somewhere on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Marie Osmond is up in her doll attic, softly singing a lullaby into the porcelain ears on of her dolls while surrounded by hundreds of doll babies wearing pajamas. I think I just typed out the plot for the next season of American Horror Story.
At the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas yesterday, Marie Osmond signed her dolls for her fans while a dude in the background made a "Why am I here face?" and a lady behind him made a "Lord, I just wanna look that dude's bald spot" face. I have a look of terror on my face, because when I look at a picture of Marie with one of her dolls, it's really hard for me to tell which one is made of porcelain and which one is made of plastic.
Maybe it's because most of my friends are mega sluts with no standards, but a lot of them have their own story about hooking up with a doll lover. One of my friends hooked up with some dude whose bedroom was full of porcelain dolls, floor to ceiling, and wanted to do the deed in there with the lights dimmed. Being the fearless slut that my friend is, he did it. There's nothing more terrifying and awkward and uncomfortable than doing butt sex while holding in the shit the creepy dolls are trying to scare out of you. I don't know why he would do that. Dolls are already know everything! Why was he giving him more information? How can he walk around the street knowing that dozens of dolls have stared deep up into his no-no?
If human eyes are the windows to the soul, then doll eyes are the windows to hell. Except for the Alexis Carrington doll. She's an angel sent from above.
We all have two options:
1. Curse at Lainey at Lainey Gossip for writing a blind item that was made one of hundred percent fact.
2. Grab a soggy waffle and do the slow wall slide before becoming a sad puddle of misery on the floor. Because People just said this:
Amy Poehler and Will Arnett are calling it quits.
The comedic stars, who wed in August 2003, are ending their marriage, a rep for both actors confirms to PEOPLE. The couple are parents to two sons – Archie, 3½, and Abel, 2.
And we have to hear it from People?! Amy and Will didn't even knock on each one of our doors, sit us on the sofa and tell us to hug our favorite sofa pillow (you know you have one) before breaking the news to us gently and telling us that everything okay and we'll see Will every other weekend (because NetFlix will start airing the new Arrested Development episodes early and every other weekend to help us deal with this tragic news)?
Let's just cancel marriage altogether since it's obviously a LIE! Jennifer Aniston had it right for so long. It's best to stay a miserable, lonely, dog-hoarding, dry in the pussy spinster who fills her empty heart with tequila. Because unlike love, tequila never does us wrong. (Cut to me in five minutes, opening up my kitchen cabinet to find an empty bottle of Patron. DAMMIT ALL TO COLD SHIT!)
SOMEONE is in serious need of a gay in their life. Here is the original Lindsay Lohan (sans the criminal record that reads like the Iliad) Tara Reid, moon-walking the WRONG way through Paris with a mystery man on her arm and a severe case of WHAT. The. Fucking. Fuck. on her feet. What is going on there exactly? Is that duct tape?
Those fUGGs look like the Terminator had sex with my third grade galoshes, and that is some sick shit that I don't want to think about ever again. I don't know whether to re-attach my car bumper with them (it's a rural southern US thing, shut it) or wrap them around a baking potato. NO. I'm so messed up by her dire shoe situation I can't even bother caring about who the new trick is. Okay, you're right, I wouldn't have cared anyway, but my point is that shit is distracting.
Other than the Dollar Store dented Tin Can rejects, I have to say Tara is looking pretty decent-ish here. Of course, I'm using her St. Tropez visit a couple of weeks ago as a yard stick so, basically I mean she's standing erect and not looking like Beer Bloat Barbie.
She needs a couple of buckets of KFC and a six pack of Guiness Extra Stout ("A 6 pack? Of what, cases? What the hell are you talking about?" - Tara), but other that that she looks sober and happy. I kind of have a soft spot for her. Us drunk hoochies have to stick together, you know.
Q: "Why did every L.A. area drug dealer tell me they were all out of the bad shit when I called each and every one of them on Tuesday night?" - Charlie Sheen
A: Lindsay Lohan, Lady GaGa and Lana Del Rey had a slumber party at the Chateau Marmont. The end.
William Shakespeare is somewhere up in heaven, slapping himself in the face with his quill pen for being born in the wrong time period, because this right here is more terrifying than any three witches scene from Macbeth. X17Online via (via Digital Spy) says that the Chateau Marmont almost crumbled into a million pieces from the weight of bloated egos, mountains of cocaine, polyester weaves and plastic lip jelly in one room. A source says that Lady CaCa, LiLo and Llama Del Meh (aka The Evil Ls) had dinner in the garden before going up to a room to "play dress up, watch old movies and play board games." You should've read that last part while making air quotes, because that's obviously just fuckedupmess code for whiskey enemas, gargling coke with their nostrils and passing out in a puddle of vomit ("Try to pass out in your own!" - tip of the night from LiLo).
Earlier in the night, LiLo tweeted "#skinnysnack1" (translation: #cooooooooke1) at CaCa and CaCa tweeted a picture of a cucumber on the bar. I don't even want to know what they did with that cucumber, but my thoughts and condolences go out to its family, because it can't be easy knowing that its last moments were painful, disgusting and involved lots of toxic body fluids.
If this story is true and isn't just a piece from a horrific fanfic, then it was probably the most boring and annoying threesome ever. Spaced out Lana Del Rey slow danced with a floor lamp all night while CaCa and LiLo melted the paint on the walls by talking non-stop, over each other, about their (f)art. Still, I hope this never happens again, because the world does not need the second coming of the West Hollywood Three.
Here's LiLo leaving a restaurant last night and ho should be using her hands to hold down the top of her head instead of covering her face, because her scalp is practically falling off. Lady CaCa should be ashamed of herself. Bitch snorted up a patch of LiLo's hair when a little coke got on her head.
You might already know Dr. Bill Dorfman from Extreme Makeover, a recent episode of Selling LA (Yes, I watch that shit.) and as the doctor who fixed up Lindsay Lohan's meth grill, but now you know him as the sucio dentist with a serious tooth fetish.
TMZ had a talk with Dr. Dorfman outside of a restaurant in L.A. on Tuesday and asked him about all the celebrity teeth he pulls out. Dr. Dorfman says that he always asks the celebrity if they want to keep the teeth he pulls out of their mouth, but if they shake their heads no, he stores it in a special place. So if you're Ozzy Osbourne, LiLo, Eva Longoria or Anne Hathaway, Dr. Dorfman might have your teeth in his special celebrity tooth museum. Dr. Dorfman explained it like this:
"I actually save famous people's teeth when I pull them ... but I can't tell you [their identities] 'cause it's like patient confidentiality. There have been a few really famous people and I thought one day maybe I could sell this on eBay."
Dr. Dorfman later backpedaled and called into TMZ to say he didn't mean it. It's too late! Dr. Dorfman's dirty, gingivitis-ridden, cavity-filled secret is out. I don't know how Dr. Dorfman found the time to call TMZ when he's obviously spending most of his time begging Gary Busey to come into his office for a "consultation." Gary Busey's got the 9-inch dick of teeth and I'm sure he's Dr. Dorfman's dream grill. Any celebrity tooth collection is incomplete without a Gary Busey tooth.
I'm going to back out of this post before my mind starts to wonder what Dr. Dorfman does with all those teeth when the dental lights go down. And you better not type the words, "anal tooth necklace." NOOOOOOOOOO.
From the makers of that nightmare-inducing Cheetos blooming (and wilting) morphing video is this anti-crack, anti-delusion, anti-White Oprah, anti-Restylane and anti-self tanner PSA where Lindsay Lohan's face goes from 0 to 60-years-old in 1 minute. This shit is like watching a train conducted by White Oprah slowly careen off the tracks before taking out a dump truck carrying broken meth pipes and crashing directly into an old dentures dispensary. This mess is creepy, it's fascinating and it's looking into a Faces of Meth kaleidoscope. They should really play this video in front of every child actor and tell them this could be their face on fame. And now, I have to cleanse my eyeballs over a pot of boiling holy water.
I really hate it when a flyer for a no-rules gay bathhouse crashes into a magazine ad for Metamucil's new shower gel before landing on an invitation for a Florida sorority toga party. This is the teaser poster for TNT's Dallas 2.0 and yes, I too feel like I just woke up in the shower and realized that the last season of my life was all a dream and the new season of my life is a NIGHTMARE where a half-naked Larry Hagman is looking at you like he's about to pull out his peenstol and shoot you for a change.
We've got Linda Gray looking gorgeous (I can't trust a bitch who shades Linda Gray), Josh Henderson looking like a Craigslist masseuse you can't trust, Larry Hagman looking like the steam is tickling the silver hairs on his prune sacks something good and Jordana Brewster looking straight out of Public Access' version of The Client List. Then there's Patrick Duffy, Jesse Metcalfe keeping the ad campaign PG-13 by covering up his tits, Brenda Strong and some stranger girl named Julie Golanzo.
What I've learned from this is that the Dallas casting directors temporarily camped out on Wisteria Lane's cross street waiting to pick up Desperate Housewives' cast-offs. And if this poster is anything to go by, then Dallas 2.0 is going to be a broke, cheesy disaster that'll leave me wanting a good scrubbing to the retinas. I can't wait!
For absolutely no reason other than to prove that nightmares exist when you're awake (and to scare hos into another dimension at the Conjoined 2 art show in L.A.), special effects make-up artist Kevin Kirkpatrick brought Beavis & Butt-head out of the cartoon world and into real life. This terrifying shit looks like what comes in the mail when you order a real doll from hell. Nope, you didn't need to sleep tonight. Yes, that moist feeling down below is from you shitting out of your piss hole and pissing out of your shit hole.
Beavis looks like what would you get if a methed-out Glenn Close slowly morphed into Conan O'Brien in some kind of Gummo universe and Butt-head looks like an inbred hillbilly bacchanalian who is about 3 minutes away from picking off whatever is left of your flesh from his braces. If you're about to fap to this, then your name must be Russell Brand.
Kevin says he made these two devil dolls from acrylic and silicone, but I have a feeling he used sores from actual meth heads, human skin, eyeballs from deers and discarded foreskin. If Kevin ever needs another set of eyeballs for one of his works of terror, he can use mine since I don't think I need them anymore.