Justin Theroux

That's the spirit, Mad Mel. If you can't get a trick to blow you before Jacuzzi, do the blowing yourself. I've said it before, if you can't beat 'em, blow 'em, but Mad Mel went above and beyond by blowing and beatin' them at the same time!

Last night in Beverly Hills, the roof of The Beverly Hilton almost cracked and exploded into space from the force of a million swollen egos when Mel Gibson, Sean Penn, Jennifer Aniston, Justin Theroux and Jodie Foster all gathered in one ballroom to honor Robert Downey Jr.'s contribution to American cinema. And by "contribution" they really mean his role in Weird Science.

After Sean Penn, Jennifer Aniston and Mel Gibson all licked on RDJ's taint by showering him with kind words, he used his time on stage to defend his friend Mel. Oh here go hell come....

“This is my fuckin’ time. Mel and I have the same lawyer, same publicist and same shrink. I couldn’t get hired and he cast me. He said if I accepted responsibility – he called it hugging the cactus – long enough my life would take meaning and if he helped me I would help the next guy. But it was not reasonable to assume the next guy would be him.

Unless you are without sin, and if you are you are in the wrong fucking industry, you should forgive him and let him work."

Don't tell us what to do, RDJ....unless you're about to tell us to nibble your nipples in a gentle manner.

The way I see it there's three kind of people:

1. The people who won't forgive Mel Gibson, because he's an anti-Semitic canker sore on a dehydrated asshole and just when they start to feel like he's changed his crusty mouth shits out another racist nugget. The glum cunt just keeps fucking up and he can't even get a blowjob!

2. The people who have forgiven Mel Gibson and can watch his movies without seeing him as the lady-abusing, anti-Semitic canker sore on a dehydrated asshole that he really is.

3. The people who have looked under the bed, searched the cushions of their sofa, checked the back of their fridges and still can't find one fuck to give about Mel Gibson.

Even if we were all #1 people, Mel's dumb stupid busted ass would still be fine. The shitbag has millions and a Jacuzzi jet to keep him company for the rest of his days. RDJ should've saved his words for somebody who really deserves them, like his Soapdish co-star Cathy Moriarty. Now that is a bitch who really needs a major movie comeback in a big way!

Here's more pictures from last night's American Cinematheque Awards. I wish there was a picture of Sean Penn and Mel Gibson together. Together they would look like a wrinkly and crusty old man nutsack glistening under a tanning bed light.

Here's Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux leaving an after-party for Ben Stiller's SNL gig on Sunday morning and not only are they chapping Maddox's nerves by wearing his signature color but they're also murdering Heidi Bivens' feelings by staying in NYC. Heidi Bivens, the chick that Justin dropped after 14 years to get with Aniston full-time, is apparently telling friends that it's hard for her to move on when she's breathing in the lonely dust that Justin humps out of Aniston a few blocks away from her and she wishes they'd take the next GET THE FUCK OUT express train out of town.

One of Heidi's friends tells UsWeekly that she isn't talking to Justin anymore and "she doesn't want to know anything about him and Jen,though she'd like a heads-up on any marriage or baby news. She wishes they'd leave NYC already. It's hard to move on, knowing they're in the same city."

News fucking flash, Heidi, we all live in the same cities as our exes. But I find that NYC really is the land of falling exes. You can't walk down the damn street without bumping into a pair of nipples that you used to bump on during happier times. Your exes are everywhere here. Seriously, either NYC truly is a small world or I'm a huge skank with a good memory ("the latter" - you), because if I got a dollar every time I had to cross the street to avoid an ex I'd have enough money to pay off the paparazzi to ignore the tips Jennifer Aniston texts them with the exact coordinates of her whereabouts in Manhattan. There is an app for picking up dick, so there really needs to be an app for avoiding dick that you've dropped.

Here's more of Jennifer securing another "OMG!!! SHE REALLY IS PREGNANT THIS TIME!" cover of OK! Magazine by covering up her tequila and taquitos bloat while leaving that SNL after-party.

Page Six says that Justin Theroux's BMW motorcycle has been parked in front of Jennifer Aniston's West Village apartment all week and some shady trick decided to send him a little message by showering his bike with what Aniston should've made for doing The Bounty Hunter: a bunch of cold bologna slices! Filling my head right now are scenes of Jennifer Aniston putting on a serious face to seriously tell a package of Oscar Mayer bologna that what it did to her was really uncool.

One of Jennifer's neighbors tells Page Six that while they were walking their dog early yesterday morning, they found a bologna bukkake scene playing all over Justin's bike. They said bologna was on the seat, the muffler, the engine, the everywhere! The neighbor is a regular Detective La Toya, because they said this about one of Justin's enemies losing their lunch all over bike, “I got the impression it was some weird message, like, ‘You’re full of bologna. The bike was in otherwise in fine condition.”

Maddox wouldn't touch a piece of gross bologna with Jennifer Aniston's hooves, so you can quickly pull his name out of the suspect pile! Maddox only eats Beanie Baby meat and Cabbage Patch legs. But who ever this is should be punished to the maximum extent of the cold cut laws. Not because they fucked with Justin's bike. Who cares about that bitch. They deserve punishment for wasting bologna IN THIS ECONOMY. That bologna could've been doing more important things like slapping a stripper's ass.

But we really shouldn't believe this shit until Terry Richardson posts pictures he took of Jennifer Aniston and bologna to show us that she's happy and she's okay with bologna even though it did her wrong.

Jennifer Aniston won't comment on the shit-stirring ladle that Brad Pitt threw up, but why waste vowels when she can say everything in a bunch of photos that will soon replace the pictures she keeps in her wallet of her Cabbage Patch Doll babies in their first day of school outfits. Terry Richardson took this photographic series titled "Guess Who's Dull Now, Brad?! Still Me? Okay." of his friend Justin Theroux and Jennifer on top of a roof in NYC somewhere, and posted them on his site today.

Yes, these are Terry Richardson originals. But where is the white backdrop? Where are the exposed nipples? Where is the lighting that makes the pictures look like they were taken in a basement with a door that has no inside knob on it? But more importantly, where are the cum splatters? It's not a Terry Richardson original until I can look at it and say, "Exquisite composition. I really appreciate the way that man chowder is splattered all over that shoulder bone."

So the next time Terry shoots Jennifer and her leased piece (and there will be a next time), there needs to be more nipples and peen leche. JIZZ or the GTFO!

Just hours after Douche Brad Pitt once again reopened the triangle that makes me long for the days when we cared about more interesting triangles like the one in Bermuda or the one on Madge's jacket in Desperately Seeking Susan, Jennifer Aniston BRAVELY came out of her NYC apartment with the boyfriend she won at one of those claw games at Dave and Buster's.

Seconds after a stage manager wearing an ear piece in the mic yelled "cue 1...2....3...GO!," Dulliston (Brad Pitt's misinterpreted words, not mine) opened the door, strolled out onto the stage of life and threw out one of those casual "OMG! WOW! What are you doing here? For little ole' me? You would think that my name is on my Google RSS Reader a trillion billion times the way you're clicking at me!" faces. Jennifer had to do this so a team of therapy cats wouldn't be sent in to check to make sure she didn't try to drown her sad miserable feelings in a soaking tub full of Bisquick soup and dozens of bowls of Warm Delights.

But of course this bland bitch is okay. They're all okay, because they're all in on it together. We should be convinced that Brad, Angie and Jen are all aliens from another planet whose sole purpose is to send the public into a rage frenzy over some stupid shit we shouldn't care about. It's entertainment for their fellow aliens on their home planet. We're like the #1 show on every planet but this one. We're like their Jersey Shore (which they laugh at us for watching, by the way).

Even those Kardashian trash sluts are in on it. The Kuntrashians are absolutely everywhere, because they're the alien cameras capturing all this madness. While you were eating your keyboard over Brad's dumb words yesterday, you quickly glanced through your sliding glass door and wondered why Khloe Kardashian was sitting in your backyard. You figured she was just eating your dog's food again. NOPE. That sneaky trick was recording you acting like a fool and broadcasting it live onto XFilesTube! Why isn't the government doing anything about this? Why is Obama quiet about this? Why am I not shouting this conspiracy theory through the subways of New York at 4am?!

Breathe.

If you need me I'll be making all of us tinfoil bonnets. Or do you want a tinfoil fedora instead?

Source: Star Magazine via Jezebel

Just like St. Angie Jo's stomach when a piece of actual food drops into it, Jennifer Aniston's vacancy womb is about to get the shock of its life. Up until now, Jennifer has only used her Public Storage womb to store an extra supply of lonely miserable tears that she dips into when her tear ducts go dry, but UsWeekly says that she's hoping to lease that space out to a fetus. A source type says that Jennifer is currently getting herself "baby ready." No, by that they don't mean that she's stroking the forehead of her Real Baby while telling it in a gentle voice that it will always have a special place in her heart and its new roommate in the nursery isn't going to change that.

The source says that while she's in Kauai, Hawaii with her snatched piece Justin Theroux, she's trying to get knocked the fetus up by eating a special diet and doing 45 minutes of yoga a day. The source put it like this:

" They have talked at length about getting married and starting a family. She is anxious for the next phase of her life and feels like this is the time.

They both want it to happen soon. They are moving quickly, but they know the feelings they have about [each other] are different from past romances."

It's been a while since my mom had the "birds and bees" talk with me, but if a ho wants to come down with a case of the BABIES!!!, shouldn't she be doing the Downward-Facing Dog right onto Justin's bare dick right before she makes his jizz kiss her ovaries by doing the Plow Pose? Not by doing beach yoga all day. Oh, Aniston, has it really been THAT long?!

That is the last time Aniston trusts a "How To Get Pregnant" book that "mysteriously" comes in the mail and has all of its pages missing except for a hand-written note that reads: "1. Go to beach. Pray to The Stork to bring baby. 2. Eat only earthworms and live fish. This smell brings The Stork out." Bitch got GOT again!

The only member of The Homewreckers Club who knitted a cozy for her membership card and Justin Theroux left an afterparty for the Horrible Bosses premiere in London last night with their hands hugging each other. If you open your window and pull up your shirt, your nipples will get tickled by a quick breeze from hundreds of body language experts running towards every office of every tabloid to dissect these pictures down to their toes. What does it all mean?

Why is Justin Theroux straining in the face like that? Is it because his brain is communicating with his bowels and trying to figure out if that rumble down below is from the drunk farts or the drunk diarrheas? Or is he still stunned from his pre-fiancee telling him she wants THIS for a pre-engagement present? Why is Jennifer Aniston holding her purse like that? Did she do that so it can look like a corn cob and corn comes from Iowa and Brad Pitt comes from Oklahoma and Iowa is sort of (not really) near Oklahoma and OMG IT'S A SIGNAL TO BRAD!

I'm sure all these questions and more including why is Justin Theroux morphing into Eddie Munster will be answered in the next issue of TouchMyDirtStar Weekly and in The Manastealin Daily newsletter Maddox puts on every bunk in the child army barracks each morning.

Jennifer Aniston was honored with a hand and footprint ceremony at Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood today, because when a studio hands over a check with "publicity" written in the memo, they aren't doing it for fucking charity. Yeah, I know Aniston barely deserves to be honored in a kindergarten handprint plaque ceremony, but we should let her have her stupid moment. I mean, she didn't make Justin Theroux wait in the car this time and he did shave the Charles Manson off of his face for the occasion, so obviously this is important to her. YAY for her. Maybe I'm just bitter because whenever I get on all fours and make that face in public I get a citation from a police officer, not forced applause and an introduction by Chelsea Handler.

Let's analyze this picture of Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux out in NYC last month. Is that an authentic hot memaw in the middle of them, or could it be the wicked Angie Jolie after downing a potion that turned her into a peddling grandma who will put Aniston to sleep with a poisonous apple (or a viewing of Changeling) so she can snatch that bitch's man? InTouch Weekly (via Hollywood Life) thinks the latter is true.

The story goes that while rock climbing in the tower of her evil castle with the leader of her child army, Angie Jolie asked him, "Maddox, Maddox on the wall, who's the fairest one of all?" Now, you know Maddox is not above twisting the truth into lies in order to keep the drama going, so he answered non-nonchalantly, "Oh, you know, that one who always has stray toy cat whiskers on her Mr. Potato Chin. Yeah, that trick." Lightning struck (aka Brad's dumb ass turned on the lights to ask Angie if she's seen his favorite bong), thunder boomed (aka Brad's dumb ass bumped into the wall after turning off the lights, because he has trouble finding doorways in the dark) and Angie made a vow to finally DESTROY THE THE CHIIIIIIIIIIN!

Angie's first move towards drowning Aniston in a pool of tears, pie filling and cat drool involves working with Justin Theroux. The source explains, “[She] is actively trying to set up a project on which she and Justin would work together. She has been a fan of his for a few years, but she certainly wasn’t in such a hurry to work with him before Jen started dating him. Her timing is suspicious…”

A different source says that Jennifer knows what's going on, "The mere thought of Justin working with Angelina sends her into a tizzy; if it actually happened, it could destroy her. Stealing one man from Jen was bad enough, but stealing two would be the coup de grace."

You just have to HAHAHAHA at this whole mess. Angie trying to wrap her eight clitoricles around Justin Theroux so that she can drag him into a den of Aniston's miserable wails?! I mean, really. Why would I not be surprised if Jen, Angie, Brad and a creative writer meet every Saturday afternoon in the back room of a deli in The Valley to come up with this shit together.