Tomorrow night in Pennsylvania, Patricia Krentcil, AKA the Tan Mom, will be introduced to Ang Cottone, AKA MILF Mom, in a press conference for World Xtreme Entertainment’s Celebrity Boxing. The two women have agreed to “fight” each other in a three-round boxing match, and the date and location of the fight will be announced tomorrow night, although it was already reported that Tan Mom would be fighting in Atlantic City on June 14. I hate when such important surprises are spoiled like this. The fight is the brain child of Damon Feldman, who so bravely decided that he wouldn’t exploit George Zimmerman by having him fight DMX, because people were fucking pissed that he’d even think about it. Instead, Tan Mom and MILF Mom are the so-called celebrities who will earn about $5,000 each for something so few people will watch, but if Feldman should “accidentally” allow a starving lion into the ring with them, it might be worth our time and money.
As fast as people can complain about what a terrible song and video it is, Avril Lavigne’s latest, “Hello Kitty,” is being pulled from YouTube, and that’s probably a very good thing. Co-written by her husband Chad Kroeger, “Hello Kitty” is an orgy of awful sounds and incredibly stupid lyrics, ushering Canada’s leading wannabe female punk rocker into a new era of ripping Gwen Stefani off. And just like when Gwen thought it would be cool and edgy to form a posse of Japanese girls, people are already calling Avril’s video offensive and borderline racist. Honestly, though, it’s time for people to stop being offended by trivial things and just focus on the fact that this is flat out awful.
(If the video disappears, watch it on Avril’s official site. I know I just said it’s awful, but it really is worth a brief watch just to experience it. Consider it a dare.)
Olivia Munn used to be fun. She’s got those Eurasian looks that make dudes assume you could fuck her while watching a ballgame while women see right through her sinister shit and want to slit her yellow throat with an onyx blade while she slumbers. I might be transferring some of my feelings and applying them to the general population as I am apt to do. Either way, I can see her nipple in one of these photos. I wasn’t even trying. I think when she was on G4 and I bought into the whole geeky hot girl next door thing that nipple was gold to me. Now that she’s all network and looking like she had work done and living off the crumbs of coffee cake others leave on the table at Starbuck’s because they assume somebody will clean it, meh, not so much. I’m thinking more about a titty twister for making me watch that first episode of Perfect Couples.
Photo Credit: Allure
I guess we all get to that age when it’s just fuck it, I’m going to stick my hand up my ass in public. You would never peg a musical talent like Scary Spice to go thong hunting right there in Beverly Hills, but, dammit, she once lip-synched Wannabe to 100,000 adoring fans. If her panties are bunching up in her crust, she shouldn’t suffer for one extra minute. Who knows where the nearest loo is. Unless you’re the man she makes smell her thong in the evenings, this is none of your concern.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News
Sometimes, you look at a shithole and you think to yourself, man, that’s the shittest shithole I ever did see. There’s no way that shithole could be any shittier. That’s the kind of thinking that leads me to believe you’ve never been to Nigeria. That shithole just got shittier. Nigeria is now half-Christian and half-Muslim. The Christians drive around in modified Toyota trucks with automatic weapons shooting the shit out of people and blowing stuff up and spreading The AIDS just as fast as they can. The Muslims drive around in modified Toyota trucks with automatic weapons shooting the shit out of people and blowing stuff up and spreading The AIDS, but with Hijabs on instead of Don Mattingly era Yankees baseball caps. The Muslims have now started kidnapping Christian teen girls to force them into lives of washing clothes in Lake Ebola and the kind of prostitution where you don’t get good tips. They just ran off into the forest with a couple hundred girls from a high school that really has been going downhill since they canceled all the after school sports programs. My high school was pretty rough, but I don’t remember Muslim insurgents coming to steal and rape the girls. I didn’t pay much attention in high school so it is possible this was going on. It’d be easy to dismiss all the heinous human rights abuses taking place in African countries as back-assed primeval problems too far away to matter. If you want to sleep at night, I’d suggest you do just that.
Photo credit: Getty Images
I don’t know who else is in here. Damn, I want to be Photoshopped like Minnie Driver. I could be a god. You can’t even see her brown tooth or that plate of St. Louis style ribs she ate in ’98 that stuck around her hips. Sorry, Minnie, please don’t quit Twitter again. There’s Channing Tatum’s wife. She looks good. Let’s be honest, we all thought he was gay. Nia Long, she’s in all those movies I don’t go to see because I’m too white, but she’s good looking even without the airbrushing. I saw her once at Whole Foods buying produce. I was buying those muffins that go bad in twenty minutes just like when muffins were awesome back in the 19th century and everybody died by forty. Kristen Bell. Hmm, her boobs got bigger. Must be God’s way of thanking her for doing so many profoundly good deeds. This Allure magazine is really the bomb. It’s like Maxim, but with good looking celebrities.
Photo Credit: Allure
Nothing says we are legitimately angry dikes quite like picking Paris as your new international headquarters. That’s exactly what the brave topless warriors of FEMEN have done, moving their yeast-filled Honeycomb Hideout from Maria’s stepmother’s basement in Kiev to one of the least appealing new sorority houses west of the Maginot Line. The girls couldn’t technically afford Paris, it’s more Paris adjacent, but it smells like Paris just the same. The French coppers found them rather immediately and donning their Battlestar Galactica gear, surrounded the place lest the girls start throwing tampons at the hommes sitting cross-legged nearby in the cafes. The place looks like one of the brothels beyond the majestic rues where you can still trade in your French Francs for girls with crooked spines and canker sores on their lips. That’s probably how they’ll lure in the men they feast on in the evenings while covering their small but flabby breasts with virulent slogans. Big score for France who’ve needed a good win since about 1720.
Photo Credit: Getty
Kate Upton has a lot of rules. The last one was about how you’re not supposed to openly jizz thinking about her big yabbos, just adore them discreetly and pay with direct deposit or something. Girls who look like Kate Upton get to make all the rules. That seems fair enough. We can elect a bunch of self-serving blustery hacks to political office, but it’s the girls who have big tits who will always run things. I know you want to believe the human social structure is more complex than the dung beetle’s, but it’s not. We’re all just trying to amass the biggest pile of shit so we can get Kate pregnant, maybe fire one off between her big knockers on the back end to show we’re better than beetles.
Photo Credit: Getty