Did you know that Christie Brinkley was still alive and had a husband? I didn’t, but that’s probably because I don’t give a shit. [Tabloid Whore]

Keira Knightley’s boyfriend looks just like Orlando Bloom, only alive and breathing. [Best Week Ever]

Josh Duhamel’s been fooling around with the same two blondes I usually fool around with. So just for that, I’m going to start fooling around with Fergie. Wait a minute…what just happened? [The Green Straw]

More shots of some homeless man hitting on Elijah Wood’s girlfriend. [In Case You Didn't Know]

Victoria Beckham looks like a Moroccan whore. Yeah, I know. Tell you something you don’t know. [The Skinny Website]

Ellen Barkin plans to auction off her booty. No, not that booty, you sick bastard. [Celebrity Nation]

Jake Gyllenhaal wants to play Lance Armstrong in the cyclist’s biopic, leaving the question: who is going to play Jake in the same film? Wait, what about Lance? That wouldn’t be too confusing, would it? [TMZ]

Just so you know, Gillian Anderson is not fat and ugly, she’s just pregnant and ugly. [Dlisted]

Don’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve had sex? Well, why not keep track on this brand new Jenna Jameson wall calendar. Just try not to touch yourself too much. It ain’t gonna help matters. [Popbytes]

No, you are not imagining things. Thanks to a shitty host, this blog’s been going down more than Tara Reid on prom night. Thank you, I’ll be here all night. I hope. [The Blog You Love To Hate]

It’s funny how life works. Just last week I was watching Oliver Stone’s “Any Given Sunday” and wondering what the hell ever happened to actress Lauren Holly. If you remember, she played the trophy wife to Dennis Quaid’s aging quarterback who, in one scene of pure unadulterated bitchiness, berates her husband at great lengths for wanting to retire from a game that’s kept her at the top of her stuffy social circle. A pretty uncomfortable thing to watch for any man fearful of castration and a scene that – when I first saw it back in 1999 – made me feel bad for Dennis Quaid a full year before Russell Crowe started banging his wife. How’s that for being a trendsetter?

But that was almost eight years ago, and since then, I really haven’t seen much of Lauren Holly. And by much, I mean I haven’t seen her at all. In fact, I’ve seen Lauren Bacall more than her and that woman’s been dead for almost ten years now. [Don’t argue with me on this. I have it on good authority that she died back in ’94, but her precious “Bogie” kicked her out of his swinging bachelor pad in heaven and now she’s back in her old decomposing body scouring the earth for Pall Malls and Powers Boothe’s phone number.]

And so here I am today, staring at a photograph of Lauren Holly in an outfit no doubt donated to the Goodwill by Britney Spears and hoping to God she still doesn’t have that fan letter I wrote to her back when she was on “Picket Fences”. Because with the name and address on that letter, she could easily track me down and force me to have sex with her. Not really something I’m too keen on at the moment considering I really don’t like to fuck people that look like my alcoholic mom.

Editor’s Note: When Lauren isn’t doing “the robot” on the green carpet or kneeling down to entice four-year-olds with cleavage as wide as the Mississippi, you can usually find her dressing up her kid in funny T-shirts he doesn’t understand like “Chick Magnet” [see the kid on the left] and getting a big kick out of it.

And would you like to know what I’m going to get a big kick out of? The day Lauren walks out into her backyard and sees her teenage son fucking a chicken. Because unless that kid starts watching reruns of “Happy Days” right now, he’s only going to confuse “chicks” with “chickens” one day and probably die from the bird flu because of it.

I guess it could be worse though. The T-shirt could have said “Dick Magnet” with him joining the Young Republicans Club in ten years.

Now that would be confusing.

Pop star Jessica Simpson was all nerves last Wednesday after taking center stage on MTV’s TRL and flubbing her lines in front of the teleprompter. Witnesses say the singer – there to promote her new video “A Public Affair” – looked pretty uncomfortable throughout the show, even though host Vanessa Minnillo – the woman currently fucking her ex-husband Nick I Forgot – was nowhere to be found.

From San Francisco Chronicle:

After flubbing the show’s e-mail address, she blurted out to her MTV co-host, “Oh, my Lord! Tell me to breathe! Will you tell me to breathe?’ before apologizing to the audience saying, “I’m sorry! I’m so nervous! I don’t know why I’m so nervous!”

During the next segment, Simpson was asked if she would be willing to answer questions from the audience and she replied gratefully, “I would love that! It’s better than reading a teleprompter!”

After attempting to read the teleprompter one last time, an exasperated Simpson blurted out, “Oh, my God! I’m horrible at this! That’s why I sing I guess!”

You know, I could go on and on about how dumb Jessica Simpson is here, but I’m going to refrain from such remarks since doing so would only lead to beating a dead Sarah Jessica Parker [or, if you prefer, Hilary Duff].

Instead, I’m going to praise Jessica for having the courage to go on TRL – a show hosted by the woman currently fucking her ex-husband Nick I Still Can’t Remember – and for promoting her new video without using phrases like “My video is tight, yo’…unlike Vanessa Minnillo’s moldy vagina” or “I once caught Nick crying after sex…with a ten-year-old boy”. Now that’s what I call classy.

So act now, guys, because classy women like her don’t stay single forever. Unless, of course, they’re fat classy woman, then yeah, they usually do.

Black Eyed Peas singer Fergie – real name something manly – was once so desperate to hide her addiction to crystal meth that she actually blamed her dramatic weight loss on being bulimic and even convinced her band Wild Orchid [made up of big Mickey Rourke fans no doubt] to attend meetings with her at People Destined To Become Fat And Just Delaying The Inevitable Anonymous.

From Female First:

She explains, “They staged an intervention, at which point I told them I was bulimic (to cover up for the fact that) I was only 90 pounds (41 kilograms).

“I put up a whole front – I even took them to Overeaters Anonymous with me.

“I’ve never been bulimic in my life, but when you’re a drug addict, you lie.

“I don’t want to be the poster girl for crystal meth, but it’s very addicting, and people don’t know just how addicting it is!”.

Could someone please point out to me where in the celebrity handbook it says you have to confess all your dirty little secrets to anyone carrying a pad and pencil? Because the last time I checked, there was no such passage, which basically means that Fergie really only has herself to blame if her image suddenly pops up one day during reruns of Hee-Haw to promote Tennessee Bob’s latest crystal meth concoction.

On a side note, I’d like to personally thank Fergie for giving us further proof that bulimia really doesn’t exist and that those people supposedly suffering from it are actually just lying attention whores with shameless crystal meth addictions.

I mean, come on, purposely throwing up food after you wasted all that time eating it. Who the hell would do something like that? Ok, besides Star Jones, and that’s only because she likes to keep eating after she’s full.