Alice Eve and her spectacular rack are the only reasons I can think of to see “She’s Out of My League,” but I don’t want to speak for you here. Who knows? Maybe you found “American Pie 3: The Wedding” the most charming installation of the three and maybe you routinely say things like “You ARE the weakest link. Good-bye!” Anything that keeps you in a dark room away from me for two hours has my blessing. Go knock yourself out, loser.
As much as I hate and despise Kim Kardashian, I’ll be the first to admit she’s got an unbelievable body. If God could some how strike her deaf and mute, she’d be the perfect woman. But New Testament God isn’t down with vengeance the way Old Testament God was, unless you count Lindsay Lohan as a plague. I think we all would have preferred the frog rain and a river of blood.
Jennifer Aniston and her “The Bounty Hunter” co-star Gerard Butler did a sweaty desert shoot for next month’s W Magazine, and from what I can tell, Jennifer is supposed to be the prostitute and Gerard the john in the pictorial. Like in this picture, where she’s counting the cash, and then this one, where she’s being hauled away by the cops. In real life, Jennifer would never waste valuable time counting money. She’d be too busy scouring the seats for any residual semen that she could scrape into a test tube and take to a lab. I guess the photographers at W Magazine were going for a tongue-in-cheek kinda thing.
Jessica Simpson was on “The Late Show” with David Letterman last night, presumably to talk about her new show “The Price of Beauty,” but of course she spent most of the time talking about the men who’d dumped her and being fat. Well, technically, she didn’t as much talk about being fat as she did wear a dress that made her look like the broad side of a Mack truck, so I assume she was trying to broach the subject tastefully. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. That probably translates to about a hundred and sixty pounds, give or take, if you could actually weigh them.
The geniuses over at Harper’s Bazaar axed this magnificent picture of Megan Fox on all fours in a swimsuit, but kept this one of her dressed like fucking The Karate Kid doing yoga in their April issue instead. Makes perfect sense… if you’re gay. Not since the Pontiac Aztek and “Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot” have such bad ideas been forced on an unsuspecting public.
Demi Moore is the classic “cool mom” — dating a guy fifteen years her junior, wearing hip designer clothes, and publicly teaching her daughters how to strip at a Hollywood party. All my stupid mom ever did was make brownies. According to Page Six
Demi Moore gave daughter Rumer Willis a pole-dancing lesson at a party at the Chateau Marmont hotel. A partygoer [said] that the “Striptease” star “even spun around the pole upside down.” Then Rumer gave it a whirl as Ashton Kutcher, Jennifer Aniston and Leonardo DiCaprio cheered her on. “Everyone was cheering, and Leo gave Ashton a high-five,” the source added.
I bet it was pretty easy for Rumer to swing around the pole once she really got going. When you’ve gathered up enough speed with a head that big, inertia kinda takes over and does its thing for you. There’s a lot of complex physics and kinematics involved in having a melon the size of Texas. If Einstein were still alive today, he’d probably have written a whole book about it.
Demi practicing her mothering skills in Striptease:
I bet in a pinch, you could use Mo’Nique’s calves like an industrial-sized Brillo pad to scour pots and pans. And if that didn’t work, you could always try the other end, because it’s pretty obvious she’s never met any form of grease she didn’t like. 409 and Palmolive better watch their backs, because this chick’s a regular double threat.
Apparently Hawaii is where the rainbow ends, because not one, but TWO leprechauns were spotted cavorting on the beaches there yesterday. They must keep the pot of gold in that canoe they’re paddling around in. Tricksy hobbitses!
These pics of “Modern Family’s” Julie Bowen on the beach with her husband technically qualify as celebrity bikini pictures, but you could put Ernest Borgnine a two-piece that’d still qualify, too, just to put it in perspective. Sometimes the glass is half-full; sometimes the glass is blisteringly pale with the physique of a parasitic Ethiopian orphan. I guess it’s really all in how you choose to look at it.
Country singer Taylor Swift sports an edgier, flat-ironed ‘do in next month’s issue of Elle magazine. I have to say, it’s a real improvement. I had no idea how much better going straight would be. Which, incidentally, are eleven words you’ll never hear come out of Matthew Broderick’s mouth in succession. Not without him dissolving into a fit of giggles and a lot of frantic hand-flapping, anyway.
