Ouch

Lindsay Lohan's eHarmony Profile from Lindsay Lohan

It takes a lot to get there, but I'm losing the ability to joyfully wallow in Lindsay Lohan's pain. She's gone beyond crazy-but-still-slightly-humorous-train-wreck and pulled into Sad Town. She just appeared in a Funny or Die video, satiring herself in an eHarmony ad. I guess this could be funny if it hadn't already been done 123,588,600,493 times. It actually serves to make her seem crazier. I'm having trouble putting my finger in it, but it's disturbing! This bitch has crazy in the eyes. And she presents all the "gossip" as if it's just that, and not documented psycho events of her life. Here's how I see it going down:

A) She really makes an effort to get her shit together. Maybe she can go to rehab AGAIN but take it seriously this time and try to learn what she can do about why she's so fucked up (execute her parents perhaps?)

OR

B) Die.

This bitch has clearly been slowly been trying to kill herself for years now, so it's just going to happen if she doesn't do something. And she's not going to be remembered fondly like James Dean. Or even River Phoenix, who DID die of a drug overdose, but people only seem to remember the good parts. If her little firecrotch flame gets extinguished, I'll just think she brought on herself. She's been offered so much help and had so many chances, but she still won't even take responsibility for herself. No one is going to lament her wasted talent, because she didn't have any to begin with. Hopefully she's either be sober or dead within six months. Anyone want to take bets?

The Super Adventure Club iPhone Apps

What's great about the iPhone is that if you want to learn dozens of synonyms for vagina, there's an app for that. If you want to know where you can legally abuse an underage prostitute while she shoots ping pong balls out of her twat, there's an app for that. If you want to figure out how much blood you can drain before your captive dies, there's an app for that. If you want to find a secluded place to bury a dead hooker, there's an app for that. And if you want to learn how to say "I swear I didn't touch your child" in Cantonese, there's an app for that too.

More RHoNY

Simon and Alex's website is fantastic. Apparently Alex used to have dreams of being an actress and has her resume and everything on her own page. She can do all sorts of accents, does an "amazing vocal rendition of Gilligan’s Island theme song in Latin," and did voiceover work as this slutty character:



Strangely fitting.

Her blog is pretty lame, and apparently she got fired from her job? I can't tell if it's recent or not. On the other hand, Simon's blog is pretty funny. In an awkward way. He has actually written commentary on each episode of the season so far. Check it out when you're bored, and try not to vomit.



I'm sorry, but their kids are creepy. Johann looks like Bryce Dallas Howard, and Francois looks like an mid-30s child predator. Genetic FAIL.

Game, Set, Snatch

Aright, linearity be damned, this post might be jumping all around the place because these NY housewives got me trippin' like honky grandma be trippin'. I'll start with Puta Cuntastica herself, Kelly. She graciously deigned to participate in the cute rheumatoid arthritis charity event, even though she doesn't need it, she doesn't need her name on anything, and she just wants to help in the background. Oh, I get your game, bitch. Firstly by letting everyone know that you aren't looking to spread your name (which by the way, people only know you because of your famous ex-husband, so don't get it twisted), it establishes that not only are the other women doing the event to gain notoriety but that you already have enough. She generously arranges for donations, and the audience can see what a philanthropic, altruistic crimson giraffe she is. She got her ex-husband, world-renowned photographer Gilles Bensimon, to donate a portrait session. And yes, they said the whole phrase just like Tyra did for so many episodes of Top Model.

Ramoner of course is gushing and pleased as hell that she can say that her daughter is afflicted with RA and seem more important than she really is, but it might not even be true. If it were an AIDS charity event, you know Ramoner would bug out her eyes and say "Ohmygod! My twelve-year-old daughter TOTALLY has the AIDS!"

Kelly noticed Jill's gaudy, costumey diamond ring, and Jill let us know that it's the "baby," and the "mama" is in the vault. I can just imagine Jill's response when she saw the mama diamond: "But I thuawght the old bitch dropped it inta tha ocean in the end!"

The Douchess visited a Boys and Girls club or something. She has to pretend she does something with her life, so I guess this was her activity for the week. Her goal was to boost the self-esteem of at-risk little girls, and she only ended up seeming like a pretentious cunt and arrogantly shitting on a child's dream. She made sure to tell everyone all about how she became a countess, blah blah blah, and never give up because you never know where your life will lead you. Yes, good lesson. Never give up hope that a man will come to rescue you from your life of poverty, and you'll never have to look back at the plebians again. Bitch, pleeeeez. These girls have bigger things to worry about like teen pregnancy and getting into college.

A girl told Luann that her dream was to be a model. She had the girl stand up so she could scrutinize her. Apparently she was only ten, but she was kind of a fucking behemoth for her age. Lulu told the girl "you have plenty of time to grow and you have a beautiful face. And--and you know what? Losing weight is easy. That's the easy part. . . you have the basics." Ouch! Hey, little girl who's about to go home to binge and purge, you just got DIScountess'd! You know what though? Fuck you, granny. Maybe she likes the way she looks and doesn't feel the need to conform to your status-obsessed standards of beauty. Maybe she'll be the next Huskeroos model!

That faggot Brad. He is a walking excuse for homophobia.

The tennis match was lame. Simon was Jill's partner against Ramoner and Mayrio. The only funny part was when Jill said her mystery partner was there and "ready to come out." Insert obvious joke here:______ __ ___.

One last thing. Question: what is wrong with Kelly Bensimon's face? Did she get a scarring chemical peel or is she just always drunk?

Laughing By Myself

There's a health fair later this month. Today my boss asked us to think of catchy phrases or slogans we can use on a board for presenting at the fair. The theme is Mardi Gras, jazz, blah blah blah. This is what I came up with:

"Jazzercise Your Right to Choose. Get it? It's an abortion joke!"

Lindsay Lohan Makes It Too Easy

This is the background picture of Lindsay Lohan's Twitter page:



Let's focus on something:



The jokes her are so obvious, it just seems wrong to make them. Suffice it to say the picture neatly sums up her existence to date.

Oooh Baby Let Me Fix My Weave

(Kudos on keeping it real, but if that's how you roll, be prepared for many wtf? looks)

Whenever I see hair like Tyra's or Oprah's I ponder what their real hair looks like. I like to imagine what it looks like at that very moment with those wigs sitting on their heads. Not sleeked back and chic, but cornrowed. And not these fake ass chunky Lil' Kim cornrows,



but keepin it real-style.





I'm talking about busted-ass, frizzy, utilitarian cornrows a bitch would do knowing ain't nobody gonna see em. Oprah has said that she wears hairpieces and wigs, and her hairline is constantly showing, but her people do a great job of making it look like it might have grown from her head. Unlike some people. . .



The amount of time and thought I've put into Oprah's hair is sickening. Last week Star Jones was on Oprah (don't EVEN get me started). Oprah was wearing her best Pocahontas hair, and my coworker insists it was all her hair. If by "her hair" you mean she owns it, then yes, I agree. There is no way she grew that shit herself. I think maybe that was part of Oprah's deal with the devil. She gets fame, fortune, power, and good hair for a lifetime in exchange for her soul and those of as many little African girls as she can provide (Hello? Her school is so fucked, it might as well be called Lindsay Lohan). An article in Star magazine last year had an item from some woman who claimed to go to the same gym as Oprah. She said Oprah's real hair was cropped close to her dome and bleached. I would die. DIE.


On a related note, this reminds me of a girl I went to high school with. She was nice and sweet, but she was a little, um, what's a nice way of saying "ghetto?" Anyway, she was a white girl with pale skin, freckles, and chin-length blonde hair. One day she decided it would be a great idea to get braided extensions of the dookey variety. They started at the halfway length of her natural hair and looked horrendous. Best part? THEY WERE FUCHSIA.

Trash

Today I found an Amy Grant CD wrapper in my yard. It was rather unsettling. Random trash blows onto the property all the time. The real question was: who the fuck would buy an Amy Grant CD? Not only is her music still being sold in stores, but someone intentionally spent money on it. I like to imagine it was a gag for a gift exchange.

This Just In. . .

Seth Rogen has cheekbones. Or perhaps intense contouring makeup--maybe Lil' Kim gave him some pointers. When did he start getting skinny? He kind of looks like Shrek on a diet. I preferred him big and jolly. Maybe he's losing weight for health reasons, but it does feel like he's selling out. He should put the pounds back on, beetus be damned.

A Letter of Resignation from Paris Hilton's Vagina

Ms. Hilton,

I rejoice to inform you that this letter serves as my notice of resignation. Today is my last day as your whipping girl. When I started this job, I looked forward to a quiet, modest career. My good friend Candy Spelling recommended you to me, saying that you were a sweet, innocent girl who would quickly settle with a tasteful man. Things were fine at first. I'm all about performing my duties, in fact, for a long time I worried that I wouldn't be put to any use at all. You were a lanky, gangly young girl, yet you blossomed into a train wreck of a whore. Somehow that stink eye of yours didn't manage to ward off the phalanx of cock to which you subjected me.

I will NEVER be the same--both physically and emotionally. I've had to scrounge my savings from your substandard pay in order to surgically regain my former shape. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have Michelle Duggar's snatch laughing behind my back? I'm going to be out of commission for several weeks, but thank God I have friends in tight places. I got a connection to put a call in to Miley Cyrus for me, and her dad isn't opposed to the idea of a secondhand vagina. That's a good girl if I've ever seen one. I bet she wouldn't go all Chris Brown on me. I bet she's not even into spacedocking.

You're the fame whore, NOT me. Why did you have to constantly expose me? I've been seeing a psychiatrist twice a week for the past three years for depression and anxiety thanks to you. That's not milky discharge, those are tears! Trust me, you will be getting the bills.

I don't know what's worse: the concentrated abuse or the complete inattention afterward. Congratulations, more substances enter your anus than exit it. I suppose the only thing I have to be grateful for is waxing me. That's the only way you dealt with those crabs, and even then it was unintentional.

Since that day in sixth grade after school with your math teacher, I have looked forward to this letter. Seriously, a T ruler and a compass? I STILL have scars. Here is a list of other things I look forward to never looking me in the face again:

• bowling ball
• watermelon
• Nerf football
• Verne Troyer
• all LA Lakers
• all LA Sparks
• anyone else named Paris (is there no limit to your vanity?)
• Capri Sun
• lawn jockeys
• mayonnaise as lubricant
• Restylane syringes
• 1/2 scale model of the Washington Monument
• Virgin Mary statuette
• OJ Simpson

In conclusion, enjoy your life as a neutered Barbie doll, because, guess what? I threw in your asshole to sweeten the deal with Billy Ray, and we leave tonight. I'm doing everything in my power to spread the word that you are a terrible employer. I have blogs, Twitter, Facebook, AND MySpace pages dedicated to your filthy behavior. You'll never screw in this town again.

Kindly fuck yourself (oh wait, you can't anymore),

Leona

P.S. I left you a parting gift. Here's a hint: it rhymes with AIDS.