Katie Price purposely flashed her panties outside of a London club last night. I guess since she’s getting a breast reduction, she figured she’d show off her vagina. Makes sense. But seriously, what is she even doing? Is there a toilet on that van or something and she really has to pee? Or is that a hemorrhoid
donut – Holy shit, it is! Whiskey. I need whiskey now! Pour it in my eyes! Hold on, brain, liquor’s coming! Don’t stop pouring until I forget my name. If I try to dry-hump the coffee table, that means it’s working.

Eva Mendes was spotted leaving a private gym in West Hollywood yesterday. It’s been rumored she’s pregnant, and I believe it. That’s definitely a baby bump she’s hiding behind her purse. Of course, I generally leave observations like that to a real doctor. I’m just a guy who likes to lay around the house all day drinking beer in a lab coat. I tell my girlfriend I’m learning way more than I would at any old medical school. Though I think when I broke my arm the other day and poured Ny-Quil on it she knew something was up. I knew I should’ve used Pepto-Bismol.

Lindsay Lohan is finished with snowboarder Riley Giles. She ditched him after the two had a tumultuous Thanksgiving weekend that ended with Lindsay drinking. A source for E! News talks about what went down:

On why Lindsay ditched Riley:
“She got tired of him pouting all the time.”

On why Riley was such a pouty bitch:
“It was fine when they were in Utah, just the two of them. But then they returned to L.A. and Lindsay was shooting a movie, photographers followed them everyone, she had meetings with this agent, that publicist, this director. His ego couldn’t take it.”

On why Lindsay’s friends weren’t impressed:
“They thought he was unsophisticated and told her she should have left him in Utah with his snowboard. He never paid. Yeah, we know Lindsay is the rich and famous one, but come on. Be the man once in a while!”

“Being the man” in my book actually means never paying for a date. So, kudos, Riley Giles, you’ve won my respect. Unfortunately, you can’t rub my respect on your genitals to make them stop burning. NASA’s already tried. In the meantime, they’re seeing if my raw sexuality can fuel rockets, but so far, it’s only managed to stop bullets and make female scientists suddenly feel the urge to wear a bikini. Okay, that last part was a joke. *laughs* Female scientists. Could you imagine?

Hulk Hogan is contesting his wife Linda Bollea’s request for alimony and states in a court filing that she can support herself and son Nick. That’s if Nick even wants to stay with his mom. The Herald Tribune reports:

Hogan’s petition, filed Wednesday under his real name of Terry Bollea, also says their son Nick, who is 17 and no longer a student, is old enough to decide which parent he wants to live with.
Hogan wants the couple’s assets and liabilities equitably distributed. He intends to continue the family’s health insurance coverage, the petition states.

Basically, what Hulk is saying is, “We’ll split our shit then you and your grotesquely large boobs are on your own.” That’s fair but firm. If I were the Hulk, I would have gone for a slightly different approach; namely keeping all my money then petitioning the judge for a scissor-kick to my wife’s face. It’s fair but full of face kicking, so everyone’s a winner. And by everyone, I mean me and my moustache comb made of gold.

Akon is facing criminal charges for tossing a fan offstage during a concert in Fishkill, NY. The charges came after a girl who was in the audience suffered a concussion when the fan landed on her. Akon must appear at Fishkill Town Court on Monday for charges of endangering the welfare of a minor and second-degree harassment, according to the Associated Press:

Audience members said that a spectator lobbed something at Akon and that the singer asked the crowd to point out the culprit. A security guard picked out a 15-year-old and sent him up to the stage, where Akon hoisted him onto his shoulders and flung him into the crowd.
The boy landed on Abby Rosa, who told the Poughkeepsie Journal she was later found to have a concussion.

I admire Akon’s dedication to the fine art of tossing suckers around. I do it all the time. In fact, the other day I threw my grandmother at a bill collector. Yeah, maybe picking up a frail elderly woman isn’t so much of a feat, but that guy from the cable company was still a block away when; Pow! Grandma to the neck! God, I wish someone caught that on tape. Besides that woman who sold it to the cops. Thanks, mom.

In her MTV reality show A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila, Tila tries to find love with a man or a woman. The show’s premise is that Tila is bi-sexual, but a source for Page Six is saying she’s totally straight and even has a boyfriend:

“She’s made out with some girls in her past, as all girls have, but she is not bi at all.” Our insider claims that MTV works hard to pretend she’s single and available because she refuses to break up with her boyfriend, “who’s like five years older than her. This is a massive scam . . . That’s why they are not continuing with the show [for a second season], because she won’t dump him.”

And for those of you who think Tila seems pretty cool on the show, surprise, she’s a bitch:

Tequila has also been acting like “a diva” and become a “nightmare to work with,” said the source. “She arrives late and doesn’t talk to any of the contestants between takes. She complains she has too much going on.”

I don’t believe a word of this. If Tila wasn’t really bi-sexual, they’d break it down for me on The Hangover. You know, that cleverly-named investigative journalism show that comes on after A Shot at Love. Each week they interview a different contestant who gives deep, revelatory answers like “I can’t really say, you’ll just have to watch next week’s episode.” And I do!

Paris Hilton took her new Swedish model boyfriend Alexander von Zweigbergk Vaggo to meet her parents for dinner at Madeos in Beverly Hills. Paris’ parents Rick and Kathy were celebrating their 28th anniversary together. The highlight of the evening will be when Rick leans over to Alex and whispers, “There are two condoms in my hand. I want you to wear them both at the same time. Don’t ask any questions. You seem like good people.” Alex will then ask “Is this to, how you say, not make baby?” Rick will smile and say, “Don’t worry, Kathy and I took care of that when she was 16. Thank you, Mexican free clinic. Ha ha, good times. No, seriously, the rubbers are to protect your ding-dong, son. Jesus, don’t you read the papers?”

Katie Holmes accompanied Tom Cruise to the Bambi Awards in Germany this evening. Katie showed off her new hairdo which further proves that she is just a giant walking doll for Tom Cruise to play dress-up with. I’m looking forward to her next look which I’m willing to bet will be a lumberjack. Complete with real-live moustache. How’d she do that? Let’s just say Tom does the cooking and added an extra ingredient. He’s not saying, but here’s a hint: It’s hormone pills.

A very pregnant Helena Bonham Carter was spotted last night leaving Cipriani in London with her husband director Tim Burton. They look like street urchins that made a heroin-fueled escape from a production of Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol.” Helena Bonham Carter seems to be amazed there’s a ground beneath her feet. While Tim Burton’s deep inside his brain trying to decide which is more awesome: stop-motion animation or Johnny Depp. Whichever one wins will be the kid’s name. Unless they go with “Gothy McGothicstein.”

Britney Spears showed up twelve hours late to the set of her new video for “Piece of Me.” Shooting wrapped around 5 a.m. yesterday morning. The dancers were pissed about Britney’s tardiness and let some secrets slip to Us Magazine:

In the video, Spears and four look-alikes — dressed in black newsboy caps, sunglasses, black trench coats and short blond wigs — to try trick the paparazzi.
Spears used a “body double to shoot all the scenes that don’t require her face,” an on-set source tells Us.

Wait, hold on a second. Britney Spears actually made a smart decision by using a body double instead of her own Pillsbury Doughboy-esque form? That’s almost amazing. Until you realize it’s to the point where, if they can just get Britney Spears to sort of look at the camera, they’ve got themselves a video: “And, action! Alright, Britney, just sort of turn your head over here towards the camera. That’s it. Follow the candy cane, and, bam, we got it. That’s a wrap! Somebody edit out the hamburger she was biting into. I’ll be in my trailer.”

Pamela Anderson plans to retire in a few years. Her latest role has been magician’s assistant for Hans Klok “Beauty of Magic” show in Las Vegas. Pamela tells USA Today she’s content with her magic work and has no ambitions to return to acting:

“I get offers to do movies and TV all the time. I say no to everything. Drives my agent crazy,” she says, laughing. “But I’m lazy. I don’t want to work. I want to be with my kids (Brandon, 11, and Dylan, 9, with ex-husband Tommy Lee). So I just fly in from L.A., do a few days of shows and go back home.”
“Five more years of (T&A), and I’ll go back to Canada,” the British Columbia native says. “I’ve got some land. It’ll be time.”

What exactly is Pamela Anderson retiring from? She shows up to random places with her giant rack and, judging by these photos, tries to give heart attacks to the elderly obese. It’s pretty much a lifelong occupation. That’d be like me trying to retire from being so sexy. It’s goddamn impossible.

Hayden Panettiere made a Starbucks run yesterday afternoon and, by the look of her jeans, all those trips to the gym are paying off. Exercise is important, which is why I start everyday lifting liquor bottles to my mouth. I don’t like to brag, but it’s a pretty rigorous routine. The payoff is these wicked biceps that can suffocate an ox and a debilitating drinking problem that has rendered me incapable of human emotion. So, who wants to go on a date with a super stud?

Kim Kardashian’s claim that somebody stole $50,000 worth of stuff from her bag at JFK airport is not flying with authorities, according to Page Six:

The sex tape vixen and reality TV star supposedly lost her diamonds, a Cartier watch, digital camera and her laptop on Nov. 8, but law enforcement officials suspect it’s a publicity stunt. Neither Port Authority cops, the NYPD nor the Queens district attorney has any report of a theft.

Well, who didn’t see that one coming? At least it gives me an excuse to post this picture of Kim Kardashian with two Playboy Bunnies. I guess you can say I have a real passion for the news. Despite being fired from the local TV station for having a real passion for the weathergirl. Apparently yelling “I’ve got a storm front in my pants!” during her on-air report is considered sexual harassment these days. Perhaps I should’ve stuck to asking her to “sprinkle a little sexy in my coffee.” You know, keep things professional.

Britney Spears decided to be a diva while shopping for panties late one night at the Hustler Store in West Hollywood. She took a bunch of sexy thongs to the dressing room where store employees told her customers can’t try on underwear. Britney with her lack of hygiene and common sense flipped her shit. Us Magazine reports:

At that point, Spears threw a fit, and took off her own underwear before trying on a pair of boyshorts (with “Barely Legal’ stitched across the rear end) in the middle of the store while 15 other customers looked on.
An eyewitness tells Us, “The employees kept saying ‘Don’t change out here!’ She’s just like, ‘Well, I couldn’t take them in the fitting room!’ It was like dealing with a child.”

Since the boyshorts were now hazardous material, employees told Britney she had to pay for them:

“She rolled her eyes, but paid with a credit card,” the source tells Us. As payback, “on her way out, she went up to a mannequin, snatched the wig off the head, and stole it!”

I love how Britney Spear’s natural reaction to any confrontation is frontal nudity. I admire that. It’s something her fans can look up to: When faced with adversity, the first line of defense is taking off your pants. I guess you can say I’m something of master at this technique. Adversity is a fancy word for the Spice channel, right? If not, I may have to cancel that self-help seminar I’m giving this weekend – or do I?

Hayden Panettiere made a Starbucks run yesterday afternoon and, by the look of her jeans, all those trips to the gym are paying off. Exercise is important, which is why I start everyday lifting liquor bottles to my mouth. I don’t like to brag, but it’s a pretty rigorous routine. The payoff is these wicked biceps that can suffocate an ox and a debilitating drinking problem that has rendered me incapable of human emotion. So, who wants to go on a date with a super stud?

Jennifer Love Hewitt spent a few days in Hawaii with her boyfriend Ross McCall. Something went awry between this picture in September and what we’re looking at right now. What the hell are those ghosts whispering to her? That cake fights cancer? Seriously, the undead are assholes. Besides, it’s a proven fact that having sex with me is the only cure for cancer. Okay, maybe not so much proven, as drunkenly hinted at when you realize I’m not really Patrick Dempsey. Though I’m not sure how the five-mile ride on my bike’s handlebars tipped you off.

After I just confirmed that Britney Spears isn’t pregnant, I find out Paris Hilton is still hell-bent on putting a bun in her oven. C’mon! It seems Paris has babies on the brain again after hosting a baby shower for Nicole Richie last weekend, according to People:

“Nicole and I have been playing together since we were two years old,” she told PEOPLE at the Nissan Live Sets One Year Anniversary Party. “I was just telling her, ‘I want a baby so that our babies can play together.’”

You ever see one of those vans that animal shelters drive around and spay and neuter your pet for you? How do I modify one of those to work on humans? I kind of need an answer ASAP. Time is a factor. Oh, and also, what are the odds of getting a wet bar on that puppy? No, not the van. An actual puppy. I’ve always thought it’d be cool to have a dog with more than just one of those little barrels around his neck. Picture a Labrador, but with a margarita mixer instead of a tail.

A cover story for In Touch magazine claims that Britney Spears is pregnant. The magazine claims producer J.R. Rotem is the father and texted In Touch to confirm the news. Britney’s pal Sam Lufti, who is attached to her at the hip, is saying these rumors are false, and today he sent the following text to Ryan Seacrest who read it on the air:

“It’s BS. Don’t know who made it up. J.R. doesn’t even know what’s up. It’s fake. Completely fake. We just wrapped her video. Going home to sleep.”

Consider this post a public service announcement. I wanted to make sure everyone knew the pregnancy rumors are totally false. God forbid, one of you thought it was true and decided to drink a cartridge of ink toner at work. That would be terrible. Unless you were drinking it because it’s delicious and you see right through the poison control center and all its lies. I know one time I had a glass of toner at work. I think it was when Jayden was born. Not only did I get to go home early, I spent all afternoon talking to my cat. That dude knows stuff.

Christina Aguilera graces the cover of the latest issue of Marie Claire magazine in nothing but a leather jacket. Awesome, right? I mean, if you ignore the growing child in her Photoshopped belly. Christina talked to the magazine about her magical journey carrying Sasquatch’s child:

On trying to conceive with Jordan Bratman:
“We were planning on starting to try after the [Nov. 2006-May 2007 Back to Basics] tour. And so, I had gone off the Pill to prepare my body, because I didn’t know how much time it would take. You’ve heard it takes some time – except with Power Egg and Super Sperm here.”

On secretly wearing a heart monitor during her concerts:
“I didn’t want to make the audience uncomfortable, like, ‘Pregnant lady onstage! Is she going to be okay?’ But I had to announce it to my band and my dancers, because I wanted to make sure they had my back.”

On Paris Hilton letting the cat out of the bag:
“Because I hadn’t said anything, people thought I was trying to keep it this big, bad secret, and that’s not the case at all. I just wasn’t commenting. I’m not being like, ‘Hey, everybody, I’m pregnant!’ I’m not that girl.”

For all you female readers, I hope you’re empowered by this tale of pregnant stuff and clandestine heart monitors. In the meantime, I can’t stop thinking about Christina Aguilera referring to Jordan Bratman as “Super Sperm.” If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to remedy this situation by stepping outside and putting my face in front of a moving vehicle. Hopefully, the driver isn’t stricken by my natural beauty and doesn’t swerve into a building taking his/her own life instead. I swear it happens every goddamn time I leave the house.

Lindsay Lohan supposedly hit the bottle over Thanksgiving weekend in New York. Friends say she did have a few drinks and a fight with her boyfriend Riley Giles may be the cause, according to NY Daily News:

After a late-night visit to the Beatrice Inn on Monday, says the source, Lohan was calling Manhattan pals for a place to stay. One friend received numerous voice messages around 4 a.m.

Hey, just because you call someone at four in the morning, doesn’t mean you’re drunk. I do it all the time. Sometimes I have something really important I need to tell my ex-girlfriend. Things like “Binge drinking has filled the hole you left in my heart. And so did chicken wings.” Or “This trash can I puked in is all the love I need.” None of that indicates I consumed an entire milk jug full of Jager then wasted my only phone call at the police station. That’s, wow, pretty judgmental of you to jump to such a wild and accurate conclusion.

The latest issue of Star magazine claims Britney Spears’ house is allegedly equipped with a fully functioning “fantasy room” And I’m talking of the sexy variety. The double-locked room is loaded with whips, ticklers and a closet full of outfits. NY Daily News reports:

“She wears Catholic schoolgirl uniforms, a maid’s uniform and a Cinderella outfit,” claims the mole. The source also contends Brit is so obsessed with Marilyn Monroe that she wants her nose redone to look like the blond model of self-destruction.
“Britney is sexually obsessed,” the source tells Star.

What’s even worse is that Britney’s sex-toys make it out into the living room. You know, that place where her toddler sons like to play. Of course, they’re probably too busy fighting off disease and infection to notice:

Star’s source also claims the house is a stinky sty — that the white couches bear hideous stains of diaper-changing and Britney’s dog. According to the tab, a “court-appointed watchdog” is set to declare the place a potential “health hazard.”

Britney Spears’ house sounds pretty much how I expected: Her kids lie twitching in the corner after mommy left her tickler in their Power Wheel. London, the Yorkie, quietly watches as he craps in the toy box. And there’s no sign of Britney anywhere except for the loud snap of a whip and the occasional cry of “Hurry, before I turn into a pumpkin!” Though I’m surprised there’s no mention of a pack of wolves roaming the halls. I figured they’d be there somewhere. Unless the creepy guy in the clown costume with the child-size burlap sack let them out.

Carson Daly is resuming production of his show Last Call with Carson Daly despite the current writers strike. Carson, who is not a member of the Writers Guild, will be the first late-night host to cross the picket line, according to People:

All of the late-night talk shows have been in reruns in solidarity with their writers, who went on strike Nov. 5. Contract talks between the writers and producers resumed Monday.

If Carson Daly wanted to remind people he exists, mission accomplished. I had completely forgotten about this ass-clown until now which is sort of depressing. It’s like remembering there’re still things like cancer and AIDS out there. Fortunately there’s a cure for Carson Daly. It’s called my fist; applied liberally to the face area.

Paris Hilton scoped out an office building in LA yesterday and felt that lingerie was appropriate outdoor attire. This, of course, allowed paparazzi to snap a shot of her panties. There’s nothing like seeing the thin layer of pink fabric that separates our world and Herpes Canyon. I wish she would wear something on her crotch a little more, I dunno, durable. Like the door to a bank vault. Or the hatch from a submarine.

NOTE: So I just noticed that she’s not wearing any underwear. Wow, uh, Merry Christmas?

Brandon Routh married his fiancée Courtney Ford at producer Jon Peter’s ranch over the weekend. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger created a “no-fly zone” over the area in honor of the occasion, but Superman Returns director Bryan Singer decided to be a dick about it, according to Page Six:

Bryan Singer pulled a “big Diana Ross diva move,” another wedding guest giggled, by “insisting on flying in on a helicopter.”

I’m going to let Bryan Singer slide on this one because he made a Superman movie that I can relate to. I’m talking about Superman knocking up Lois Lane then fleeing the planet. It’s exactly like the story of my own life complete with a messianic theme and a John William’s score. I can’t wait to watch it with my kid someday. If I ever decide we should finally meet because I want to borrow some of his student loan money.

Amy Winehouse has cancelled the remainder of her tour dates. It was an expected announcement considering her poor performances which led to audience members walking out. She made the decision yesterday afternoon after a tearful meeting with her management, according to The Sun:

In a statement Amy, 24, said: “I can’t give it my all onstage without my Blake. I’m so sorry but I don’t want to do the shows half-heartedly; I love singing. My husband is everything to me and without him it’s just not the same.”

Dammit, and I had tickets. I was hoping to see Amy Winehouse forget the words to her own songs then snort coke out of her beehive. It was going to be a classy evening of a culture and music. I even bought one of those beer-can hats. Except I modified it to hold two bottles of Jack Daniels. I tested it out the other night. Legally, I’m not allowed to say how it went. Though my lawyer says the black box proved the chimp was flying the plane. So that’s who I got to play “Lost” with me. He must’ve been Matthew Fox and I was the mysterious smoke creature that pukes on flight attendants. I’ll admit; the monkey was right. That was the best drinking game I’ve ever played.