Archive Page 2 of 127



Spencer Pratt Should Be Shot

Here’s Spencer Pratt’s most recent advice column excerpt:

“Yo Spencer:  I’m gay but I hang out with a bunch of straight guys all the time.  A few nights ago, I hooked up with one of them; he then told all his friends that it had never happened and I made it up.  I don’t want to embarrass this guy, but I’m not a liar.  What do I do?”

Now.  I’ll be the first to point out that this guy is an idiot because he’s seeking advice from the biggest douchebag (and that might truly be official now) on the planet.  That said, it very well could be a legitimate pickle he finds himself in.  (Hee - get it?  I said pickle in relation to a gay dude).  Anyway, check out Spencer’s response:

“Next time you go out and party with this friend, make sure you bring your digital camera. When you start making out, take a photo and threaten to put it on Facebook if he keeps lying to your friends.  In this day and age, you need evidence to prove your case.”

I don’t even know if words exist to adequately mock this. 

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Parking Solutions: By Ashley Judd and Dario Franchitti

So an anonymous astute and alert MockDocker sent me a note suggesting I do some digging around about Ashley and Dario’s income versus the amount they spend on charity versus the amount that they spend on homes. 

While it’s tough to get specifics on that sort of thing, I did come across an article about parking spaces in the UK. 

What’s parking got to do with Ashley and Dario, you ask?  Well, I’ll tell you.  Parking isn’t a problem when you’ve got miles of land in TN.  But according to the article, parking is relatively limited in the UK.  Which is a problem when you’ve got a fleet of Ferraris and Porsches and motorcyles on both continents, as Ashley and Dario do. And seeing as how they have their own CASTLE in Scotland (on which they spent roughly six million dollars) and castles aren’t known for their garages, they decided to install a stacking parking system with room for about 20 cars in their home, otherwise known as Rednock Castle in Perthshire.  Computer sensors allow him to store cars just inches apart. Isnt that handy?  Happily, they seem to have plenty of room to store their helicopters as well.  Thank goodness!

Next time you see Ashley in an interview or on tv bemoaning the poor conditions in third world countries and pleading with ordinary people like you and me to send money to all of her causes, just remember this post. 

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My New Favorite Celebrity Feud

 

Do you want to hear the gayest thing ever?  Bruce Jenner, former athlete-turned-plastic-surgery-disaster-and-husband-to-Kim-Kardashian’s-mom, is having a war of words through the media with SPENCER PRATT.

I am not making this up.

Apparently, Bruce Jenner’s son, Brody, used to hang with Spencer, and then they fought over that retarded Lauren Conrad sex-tape scandal, and now they’re BFF again.  And about Spencer and other friends of Brody, Bruce said, “He’s been brought down by all his friends.  It’s not really him. He’s a homeboy.”

Yes.  You read that right.  Bruce Jenner, 58, just called his own son a “homeboy.”

Anyway, now Spencer is fighting back through US magazine, by saying, “That’s a bold statement for someone who only decided to try and be Brody’s father after Brody got famous. He should focus more on trying to be a father and worry less about Brody’s influences. Brody’s doing just fine.”

And Spencer Pratt writes an advice column, so he clearly has the upper hand in this fight.

GOD, I hate every single person from The Hills.  HATE.

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Separated At Birth?

Nicole Kidman on Pregnancy: 'We're Very Excited' | Keith Urban, Nicole Kidman

I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or what, but Nicole Kidman is starting to look an awful lot like:

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STOP. Your Freedom Is Over.

<political rant on>

Straight from his Oregon speech:

“We can’t drive our SUVs and eat as much as we want and keep our homes on 72 degrees at all times … and then just expect that other countries are going to say OK,” Obama said.  “That’s not leadership. That’s not going to happen,” he added.

Um, yeah it is, Barack.  Last time I checked, this was AMERICA, a land in which I am allowed to make choices about what car I drive and what I eat and what temperature to keep my home at. 

You know what’s NOT leadership?  Hanging out and trying to have tea and crumpets with Ahmejinedad. 

Ugh.

<political rant over>

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We Should Have Seen This Coming

So apparently one measly wedding on a beach wasn’t enough for Mariah Carey, and now plans for her elaborate ridiculous out-of-control wedding are underway.  

Some super secret source of hers said that it’s expected to be held in NYC, and her guest list includes TWO THOUSAND PEOPLE, including 14 bridesmaids. Which means that 14 people are going to admit to being close friends with her. 

The anticipated budget for this fiasco?  FOUR MILLION DOLLARS.  

HATE HATE HATE.

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Manhood is Defined! I am a Man! Really…

Please keep in mind that the tale I am about to tell in no way diminishes my ultimate manhood…it is possible that many of you are pregnant for just reading this post. My virility is legendary! So, here it goes…

One of the true joys in my life as a single father comes with each and every weekend that my children and I get to spend together. This past weekend was one of those very times.

Upon picking them up from their mother’s home on Friday afternoon, we went home to an evening of bike riding and playing tag in the wonderful warmth of the late, Spring sun. After baths, snacks, and stories it was indeed time for bed. With hugs and kisses and the well-wishing of sweet dreams, my son and daughter, 6 and 3 respectively, trundled off to the land of sugarplums and metered breathing.

After two hours of them laughing from bed to bed, playing games with each other as we all did growing up and being over-excited, my daughter slinked her way down the hall to the living room where I was watching television. She looked at me adoringly and said, “Here daddy. You look tired and you need to go to bed soon. I brought you Bobo to help you sleep.”

With these words she produced the teddy bear given to me when I was her age, which now resides in her bedroom with her teddy bear collection. She handed it to me and raced back to her bed.

After waiting for some time, and not hearing any more chatter, I went down the hall to check on them. Each was nestled in his or her bed, but sleep had not taken them. I lazily tossed Bobo in to my bedroom and went back out toward the living room to watch more stand-up comedy, my true love.

Not 15 minutes later, I heard a distinct rustling in my darkened bedroom and felt the urge to investigate. As I entered the room, I startled my daughter, and she…me. She began to explain that, “She didn’t approve that I threw Bobo and she wanted him to have a nice place to sleep.”

I looked and saw that she had found him in the dark and placed him, ever-so-lovingly on a pillow on my bed, so that he may help me get a good night’s sleep. This made me well with pride, the empathy that my daughter, at only 3, could have for a 31-year-old bear and her 34-year-old dad. So, both Friday and Saturday night, Bobo slept on his pillow, as identified, in my bed.

I would like to say that it ends there. However, last night, as my children had returned to their mother’s home for the week, I was left alone, I found myself tossing and turning restlessly as I always do when I sleep alone. Upon waking up this morning to start a new day, I discovered that I was not alone, however. For tucked gently under my right arm, I found Bobo.

That’s right folks. As I lay in my boxer shorts dreaming of swimming in pools of syrup with bikini-clad women, I was hugging my childhood teddy bear.

Bobo has been returned to his place in the bevy of bears that my daughter has. My son will never know that his father, the manliest man since man got all manned, slept with a teddy bear. My daughter, however, will always have my gratitude for being so dang sweet!

I have now told you my tale. My calf-muscles are so awesomely developed that they are practically mocking me for this event. I must go…now and save a damsel tied to a train.

Absurdly your,

Holmes

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Hypocrisy - Thy Name Is Dina Lohan

You guys - behold Dina Lohan acting as though she’s pissed off that paparazzi are taking photos of her daughter(s). This is the most retarded display of parenting EVER. You know the other side of that phone call was some rational person saying, “Um - so what are you doing right now? Filming a reality show in which you exploit your daughter? Ok - get back to us when you turn into an Actual Mother.”

You know, Dina Lohan wouldn’t need to “protect her cubs” quite as much if they simply stopped doing things like flashing their cha-cha’s, doing stints in rehab, and dressing like complete whores at 13 years old. My favorite part was when Dina sighed in the interview saying, “Ali loves this business so I unfortunately have to manage her…” as if she didn’t have the choice of saying, “Ali - I’m your mother. Get that explosion of make-up off your face. And no - you are not permitted to enter show business.”

Suck it, Dina Lohan. You are the worst mom ever.

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Sarah Jessica Parker Remains Quite Unfortunate Looking

I can’t help it though - I like her.  And I am so totally going to see the SATC movie.  But if I were her stylist I would encourage her to wear her hair down.  In loose waves around her face.  All around her face.  Such that very little of her face actually shows through the hair.

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Now HERE’s A Must-Read

 

Tonya Harding - and yes, that really is her - is coming out with a memoir. 

When I try to visualize the kind of person who would purchase such a book, all I come up with is pretty much a whole bunch of women who look a lot like this picture.  Only with cans of cheez whiz next to them.

 

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