LOS ANGELES – If the “baby bump” on her neck is any indication, Rosie O’Donnell’s chin is pregnant.
The actress, comedian, and talk show host created a stir earlier this month when she appeared on ABC’s Good Morning America with a “noticeably pregnant bulge” on the bottom of her jaw.
O’Donnell ignored reporters’ questions regarding the bump, but Celeb Jihad is reporting that a source close to O’Donnell can confirm that she and her jowls are “thrilled to be adding another chin to the fold.”
While the source could not confirm the identity of the father, insiders are speculating that it may be none other than O’Donnell’s long-time friend and companion Mr. Goodbar.
O’Donnell declined comment to The Associated Press.
We caught up with Lauren Conrad from MTV’s “The Hills” coming out of a Fuddruckers on Sunset Thursday night. Our reporter on the scene inquired about Lauren’s on and off again relationship with male socialite Brody Jenner.”Things with Brody are going really good right now. He stumbled over to my place just the other night. We played this game were he couldn’t remember my name. After about 20 minutes he got it though. It was a new record!”
When asked if her and Brody did anything romantic Lauren responded.
“Yeah we shared something special… You know Brody is a super romantic guy… He really opened up to me and trusted me enough to shit on my chest. Most of it was solid too! I don’t want to read into that too much because as you know we are “just friends”, but I imagine if he didn’t care about a girl he would have made it sloppy.”
Lauren declined to comment when asked if she rubbed it in.
What the fuck? What in God’s holy name are you doing to me? Have you lost your mind?
You’re Brad fucking Pitt! The Sexiest Man Alive! You have a gift for which any man would gladly give his left testicle. All you have to do is snap your fingers, and any woman on this planet will spread faster than Parkay (and if the statistics are correct, so will about 10% of the men).
Right now we could be in a hotel room with a dozen half-naked Victoria’s Secret models. We could be hanging out by Clooney’s pool with a bunch of bikini-clad Playmates! We could be picking a sorority house at random and then nailing every girl inside. But instead we’re in butt-fucking Namibia waiting for Billy Bob Thornton’s extra-sloppy seconds to squeeze out your kid. Smooth move, brainiac! This is much better than hanging out with Hef at the mansion. What the fuck is wrong with you?
Look, I‘m sorry if I‘m coming across as harsh. You’re a great guy, and I’m extremely lucky to be a part of you. But this isn’t the first time you’ve fucked up. A while back your dumb ass went and got engaged to Gwyneth Paltrow. Luckily we dodged a bullet when that fell through. No big deal; we all make mistakes. But instead of learning from those mistakes you went and got engaged again, this time to Jennifer Aniston. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d think getting married to a hot girl like Jennifer Aniston would be a great idea if I was Lyle Lovett’s penis, or if I was hanging between the legs of some schmuck like Ross Geller. But I’m Brad Pitt‘s penis, damn it! The world is my bearded clam! So excuse me if I get a little fucking annoyed when you go and throw it all away to be with Rachel from “Friends”.
Once you tied the knot with Aniston I thought we were fucked. But rather than let you squander their precious gift of limitless vagina, the gods saw fit to break us out of your self-imposed prison. In their wisdom they sent us Angelina Jolie, quite possibly the world’s most perfect home wrecker. She’s got an extremely hot body, she’s bi-sexual, and, best of all, her father has been quoted as saying that she has “serious emotional problems.” Bingo! Problem solved! I’ll have my fun with Angelina, your wife will leave us, and you’ll be a free man again. Get in, pull out, get on with your life! What could go wrong?
I‘ll tell you what could go wrong. Your dumb ass could fall in love with your fucking mistress. You might be the dumbest person on this whole godforsaken planet. I’m surprised you haven’t traded away your residuals from Ocean’s 11 for some magic fucking beans. Falling in love with your mistress is like paying an illegal immigrant a fair wage. It totally defeats the fucking purpose! You just don’t do it!
Then again, it looks like you never received the list of things you just don’t do. If you had, I’m sure you would have noticed the entry about not taking legal custody of your crazy-ass mistress’s third-world adoptees. It would have been a hard one to miss. It’s in big bold letters right near the top, just under “don’t fuck a monkey with AIDS” and just above “don‘t let a gay Scientologist knock you up.” It’s a real shame you missed that, because we could have avoided a lot of trouble. But now Angelina’s two little cock blocks are our headache too, you fucking dip-shit.
To be honest I feel sorry for the poor little bastards, especially the little Asian kid with the Mohawk. Not only is Angelina Jolie the only mother they‘ve ever known, but up until now the closest thing they’ve had to a father is that ugly Asian chick their mommy used to screw. They would have been better off taking their chances in Ethiopia, or Cambodia, or wherever the fuck they were from. Hell, the Asian kid might have become the next Pol Pot, but now he’ll probably just end up getting a sex change and going on “The Surreal Life”.
But you were not content with turning these third-world orphans into future Jay Leno punch lines. No, you decided that you needed to produce your own offspring with a bisexual suffering from “serious emotional problems.” Fan-fucking-tastic. That ought to do wonders for her figure, which just happens to be her only redeeming quality. Do you have any idea what it’s like having sex with a woman who’s given birth? It’s like fucking a bucket, man. You might as well just use me to hump a hallway. At least it won’t demand an explanation as to why I can’t climax.
That brings us to where we are today: Namibia. I know when I think of places with great medical care, Namibia is always first on my list. This is a country where it isn’t safe to piss without wearing a condom, so I’m sure it’s a great spot for birthing. Yeah, fuck Johns Hopkins. This game lodge surrounded by lions is just as good. You’re gonna be one hell of a father.
Look, you’re in charge here, and I’m just along for the ride. I don‘t agree with any of this, but there’s not much I can do to change your mind. Hell, Jon Voight says she’s crazy, and you won’t even listen to him. So I’m only gonna say this once. Someday when an even crazier Angelina Jolie’s once-perfect tits are hanging down to her knees and you are forced to make Ocean’s 17 to pay for your kid’s multiple rehab sessions, you’ll wish you could go back in time, pull your head out of your ass and start thinking with your cock. When that day comes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Brad Pitt’s Penis
By now everyone has heard the Chuck Norris facts. There have even been copycat Vin Diesel and Mr. T facts. Lost in all this hype are the facts about the greatest American hero of America. Of course I am talking about Corky from the hit TV series “Life Goes On”.
Corky wears a helmet not for his protection, but for yours!
Corky thinks cats are friendly animals.
Corky only rides the short bus because it handles better.
Corky can read! …sort of.
Corky’s tears cure cancer. Too bad he is retarded.
Corky once counted to 47… on his chromosomes.
Corky can eat his own farts.
Corky thinks you’re retarded.
Corky eats grass… because somebody has to.
Corky’s favorite food is blue, and his favorite color is 7.
Too Corky bitches ain’t nothing but tricks and hoes.
If you ask Corky he’ll tell you the secret to peace in the Middle East is “happy rainbow kisses”.
Corky once hugged Chuck Norris. He did nothing.
Corky thinks Dustin Hoffman’s character in Rain Man is “a real smartass”.
Corky once took a shit in a pool.
Corky likes tacos.
Strobe lights make Corky cum… a lot!
Corky once threw feces at a monkey that was giving him the evil eye.
Corky is so retarded that even his penis’s head is small and abnormally shaped.
Corky wrote a song about the corn in his stool.
Corky is just like you, he puts his pants on one leg at a time. The only difference being his are on backwards and covered in various bodily fluids.
There are five stages of grief. When I heard that Heath Ledger had died I skipped stages one through four and moved straight on to stage five: acceptance. Apparently I was alone. It’s been well over a week since Heath caught the dragon, but I still have to listen to Mary Hart and her ilk droning on and on about the loss of my generation’s “Brando”.
Hey Mary, do me a favor and shut that well-worn anus you call a mouth. My generation’s “Brando” is alive and well. His name is Jake Busey.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really hate Heath Ledger. But when you hear Larry King, a man who hasn’t seen a new movie since Cocoon, pretending to care about this “tragedy”, something is wrong. World War II was a tragedy. Hurricane Katrina was a tragedy. Lipstick Jungle is a tragedy. But unless you are a friend or family member, Ledger’s death is forty-five seconds after the weather report and before sports.
In the end, the only one to blame for all this bullshit is Heath. So, without further ado I give you Ten Things I Hate(d) About Heath. Normally I wouldn’t kick a man when he’s down, but since I know he won’t be getting back up, why not?! ZING!
10. Ten Things I Hate About You (1999)
If you’ve made it this far you’re probably asking yourself when/why did I become “such a vile, hate filled, little man?” The answer to when; about the same time this shitpile of a film came out. Ten Things I Hate About You is horrible, and if you enjoyed it I’ll bet dollars to donuts that…A. you were in high school when it came out, and…B. you have a vagina.To answer the why, if you were in high school in the late 90’s, and you have a vagina I’ll also bet dollars to donuts that I did not see said vagina. You were too busy giving it up to guys that reminded you of Heath Ledger. Well he’s dead now, so fuck you! I win!
9. Upstaging Brad Renfro’s Death
Poor Brad Renfro. Not only did he die suddenly at the age of 25, but his family had to endure America’s collective “Who? Oh yeah, that guy!”
Then, to add insult to injury, just hours after they put poor Brad’s body in the ground along came old Heath to steal the spot light. Jesus, Ledger, you could have at least given him one day. Bad form.
Anyway, this one’s for you, Brad. Apt Pupil was pretty good.
8. Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Cowboys used to be the manliest guys around. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Yosemite Sam; there’s no question that those dudes enjoyed sex with ladies. Even the cowboy from the Village People couldn’t sway public opinion. Cowboys = Straight!
But not any more, pardner. Thanks to our dearly departed friend Heath Ledger cowboys are now gayer than George Michael blowing the ghost of Rock Hudson on the grave of Pedro from the Real World. It’s gotten so bad that I can’t even throw on a cowboy hat and a pair of assless chaps without someone cracking a Brokeback joke. Thanks, Heath.
7. He’s Foreign!
It turns out that Mr. Movie Star wasn’t even born in America. Sounds pretty un-American if you ask me.
Australia was a former penal colony, which means that for all we know Heath was the direct descendant of criminals. And unless his name turns up on all those pill bottles it would seem that apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Zing!
6. A Knight’s Tale (2001)
Hey guys, lets take a film set in medieval England but use modern classic rock songs for the soundtrack!
That sounds about as entertaining as setting a Shakespearian play in a contemporary American high school. We’ll call it Ten Things I Hate’th About Thee. Oh, wait!
5. You Fucked Poor Terry Gilliam
Poor Terry. You screwed him over in a way Hollywood’s major studios never could. You filmed half of his latest dream project-gone-awry, and then died. Thanks, douche bag. Like Terry needed one more dead-end dream. The man deserves better! He was in Python! Way to go, Bruce, you stupid Aussie poofter .
4. Tremendous Guilt
I used to be a nice boy. I used to love my family. I used to love my county. I used to love the Church.
Not anymore. I haven’t talked to my old man in five years, I haven’t paid my taxes in six, and seven years ago I had an abortion (it tasted like chicken).
I feel guilty enough as it is. Now, to make matters worse, I’m mocking the death of a man who by all accounts seemed like a decent human being. But what was I gonna do, not make a joke about it? I’m sick! I can’t not be an asshole!
Thanks for putting me in this position, Heath!
3. He may have fucked up the third Batman!
I’m not gonna lie; the new Batman movie looks pretty fucking sweet thanks in no small part to Heath Ledger. But now that he’s gone he can’t come back for part three. And to think, I was just about to forgive him for that travesty, The Patriot. Speaking of which…
2. The Patriot (2000)
The Patriot is one of the worst films of all time. If you liked it, you’re an asshole. If you were in it, you’re a cunt.
Look, I’m no commie, I bleed red, white and blue just like the next jingoistic idiot. But any film set in 18th century South Carolina that has a plantation owner who only hires freed slaves is just too fucking much.
“We’re not slaves, we work the land…freed men.”
Why didn’t they just show Mel Gibson growing Fair Trade Coffee, or opening Ye Old Recycling Shoppe! It was the 1770’s! Fuck you!
1. Girls, Girls, Girls
Heath Ledger could have had any girl he wanted. Young, old, skinny, fat, alive, dead; it didn’t matter. The man could have tattooed the letters H, I, and V followed by a plus sign on his forehead, and he still would have gotten laid whenever he wanted.
Now, call me crazy, but if I had this power there is one thing I am positive I would not do: die. I know insomnia sucks, but at that point I wouldn’t take any fucking chances.
You can keep your dangerous sleeping pills, Dr. Asshole. I’m sure I can find something to do at night. Perhaps I’ll read a book, or maybe take up stamp collecting. Or maybe, just maybe I’ll fuck hot bitches one after the other until the sun comes up.
Way to blow it, dipshit.