Thursday, January 12, 2012

Y! Alert: Dlisted - Be Very Afraid

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The CAPTION THIS Contest For January 10th! Top

via FunPic

 
Justin Bieber Wants To Be As Legendary As Michael Jackson Top

For V Magazine's annual vagina issue, they talked to a singing unicorn labia about how he wants to be the greatest that ever lived and how he's ready chisel his nose away in order to become the new Michael Jackson nobody was asking for. When Justin Bieber's starts talking in an interview, we all put on a bib, because the foolery will be splashing everywhere. So bibs out and put your detectivelatoyaside.gif on standby.

JB on how he wants bust through the Lief Garrett curse and hand out the Jesus Juice by the time he's 30:
Right now? I mean, I consider Michael Jackson the best. If I could be at his level... But I've got a lot of work to do. I'm not saying it's going to happen within the next three years. But hopefully by the time I'm 30, people will remember me. I think people will remember me at this point, but I don't want people to just think of me as a teen sensation. Because I could probably just sell out, and then in two years not put out another album, and just become Justin Bieber the teen superstar. But I don't want to be that. I want to transition, and become the greatest.

JB on how he's going to keep his lyrics G-rated, because Michael Jackson never sang about dirty shit (which he did):
I want to be able to do what Michael did—he always sang clean lyrics—and it was always that little kids loved Michael and grandparents loved Michael. I don't want to start singing about things like sex, drugs, and swearing. I'm into love, and maybe I'll get more into making love when I'm older. But I want to be someone who is respected by everybody.

JB on how some whores are hating on him because he's beeeeeeaaaaauuuuutiful:
I know a lot of people say they hate Justin Bieber who haven't even listened to any of my music. They just hate me because they hate the idea of me. I'm young, I'm handsome—I don't mean to sound conceited—but they think that I just got here because [of that], because I'm good-looking and girls like me, but the music isn't there.

JB on how he's got the face of Jesus on his leg, but he's not religious:
I don't think I'm religious. I am spiritual. I believe that Jesus died on the cross for my sins. I believe that he put me in this position, and that I have to always give him the glory he deserves for putting me here. But I don't consider myself religious. A lot of people who are religious, I feel like they get lost. They go to church just to go to church. I am not trying to disrespect them at all, you know, whatever works for you; but for me, I focus more on praying and talking to Him. I don't have to go to church. I haven't been to church in a long time, but I know I have a relationship with Him. People can be like, "If you don't go to church, what do you mean, how are you a Christian?" But I am. I talk to Him, and that's all.

JB on how he once asked a Magic 8-Ball if he's going to be the new Jesus and it said "Maybe. Okay, yeah, yeah, just get your tiny hands off of me already!":
You know, my ma has always had God around me, has always made it really apparent. She never pushed it on me, but she always brought me to church and she put me in Sunday school. When I was little, I did these things: "prophetic words," which is sort of like fortune-telling, but from God. They said in one of those tapes—when I was really young—that I was going to be the voice of the new generation. So, I don't know what that means. It could just mean that I'm here to make music and inspire people. That's all I know.

JB on how he's basically the stubborn cockroach of pop star fetuses:
I am setting them not only for me but for other people too. I want people to know that this is not just a fluke. It's not a fluke that I'm here. I'm here for a reason, and I'm here for a lifetime. And no one is going to get rid of me.

I'm going to give Justin Bieber a temporary pass this time, because if he read all of these self-motivational words off of a piece of lined paper in front of his 5th grade class (which is where he should've said this shit), then we all would've slapped a gold star on his forehead and patted him on the back for reaching for the stars. Besides, I need to save my keystrokes for writing V Magazine a complaint letter. Those bitches knew where they were doing when they put Justin's face between a V.

 
Open Post: Hosted By Linda Ramone Top

The pressures of single-handedly providing the glamour to an event is sometimes too heavy for Dolly Parton's spiked wig to bear and so the wife of the late Johnny Ramone, Linda Ramone, heard Dolly's plea and came to last night's L.A. premiere of Joyful Noise (aka the movie your nana is going to make you watch when it plays on a loop on the Hallmark Channel next Christmas) with gifts. The gifts Linda brought was a touched by Angie Dickinson coif, cataract sunglasses that will make Anna Wintour's eyes tear up with jealousy, an outfit provided by Nanny Fran and a pursed sour mouth that most people will make when they're forced to see Joyful Noise. (Dolly can do no wrong, but that movie really does look like a crap Sister Act pushed out and forgot to flush.)

So Dolly's wig was able to let out a synthetic sigh of relief when glamour services were also provided by Linda last night. But that's WAY more I can say for some of the other moonshine-faced homely creatures (hint: THE CYRUSES) at last night's premiere. In order: Jo Champa with some child and Linda Ramone, a Botoxed ray of sunshine, Queef Latifah, an actor who goes by the name of Jeremy Jordan but really needs to change his name since there is only ONE Jeremy Jordan, Keke Palmer, Vivica Fox and the family from Texas Chainsaw Massacre who stumbled onto the carpet after huffing from gas tanks in the parking lot.

 
TOO EASY. Top

via HuffPo

 
An Imaginary British Houseguest Will Save Your Marriage, So Says Oprah Top

Having an imaginary friend isn't only for children and Jennifer Aniston, it's also for married couples who are on the verge of screaming each other's faces off during an argument in their own homes. In an article on Oprah.com (via Buzzfeed), the Dalai Oprah writes 10 unexpected ways that only you can save your marriage and one of them will only work if you're on acid all the time or if you've been diagnosed as certifiably schizophrenic.

All of us have much more control over our behavior than we like to think. For instance, if you had a very proper, prestigious British guest at your home, sleeping in the bedroom adjacent to yours, you'd act differently during arguments. You'd behave more kindly and politely to your spouse when, say, he sold your mother's hideous-but-beloved vase during a garage sale—if only because you didn't want to feel deeply ashamed. So the next time you consider screaming, imagine poor Rupert lying in the guest room, overhearing your every word.

THIS rich ass ho. Only Oprah. This kind of ridiculous advice is hard for me to wrap my tattered brain around, because I come from a Latin family who don't consider it a fight unless it makes at least one innocent person uncomfortable. Some of my cousins will fight inside of the house and then chase each other to the front yard where they'll fight again in front of all the neighbors. Why don't those crazies stay inside, you ask? Because they need an audience for their theater! And they need someone to turn to and ask, "Did you hear this bitch, right? You're on my side, right? RIGHT?!" They need votes, basically.

But I'm still going to put Oprah's bizarre advice to the test the next time I should myself in a fight with a boyfriend. I do need to know if this Rupert dude is hot or not, because that makes a difference. I'd like the option of walking out on the whisper fight to go and loudly fuck Rupert in the next room.

And I did let out an extra laugh at Oprah saying "imaginary" British friend. Please, Oprah isn't fooling us. You know she's got an actual British man named Rupert on payroll who always sleeps in the room next to hers and Gayle's to keep them from fighting.

 
Dear Angie, Quit While You're Not Ahead Top

Scientists who study the shedding process of constipated snakes shouted "I know that look!" last night when St. Angie Jolie tried to POSE FOR HER LIFE at last night's 77th Annual New York Film Critics Award Gala. As Brad Pitt, who won Best Actor for Moneyball and Tree of Naps, hobbled along, Angie looked like a smug mouse getting swallowed by a mongoose (some Rikki-Tikki-Tavi shit) when she tried to bless the mere mortals with her holy sexyfaces. Bless this saint and her sexyfaces, because I'm pretty sure Brad Pitt knows what's going on behind her and is trying to tell her that this scene has already been won. I declare the victor:

Harriet Potter: 1
St. Angie: NIL!

For coming in second place, Angie wins a chair to have a permanent seat in! Oh, don't worry, the chair is actually a throne from the ruins of the Holy Temple and it's been cleansed in lamb blood, so she'll feel completely at home.

 
Why Does Lifetime Hate Elizabeth Taylor So Much? Top

"At least that raggedy crackamuffin bitch is shitting on your grave instead of mine for a change!" is what Marilyn Monroe said to Elizabeth Taylor up in the smoking lounge in heaven last night after Deadline reported that Lifetime is willing to go bankrupt from spending all of its money on prosthetics, CGI, sandblast equipment and black magic to turn Lindsay Lohan into a Elizabeth Taylor for a biopic. Lifetime can officially change its slogan from Lifetime: Television for Women into Lifetime: We Just Don't Give A Fuck Anymore.

This mess, which doesn't make sense, would make sense if LiLo was going to play Last Days Liz or Currently In The Grave Liz, but she's in talks to play a young Elizabeth Taylor in Elizabeth & Richard: A Love Story. Who the hell is going to play Richard Burton? Pete Doherty? (Okay, I'd erase everything in my Tivo to record that mess.)

You know, I'm all for HoHan tripping her way up to a Drew Barrymore-like comeback and she probably sees this Lifetime shit as her own personal Amy Fisher TV movie, but she just isn't the one to play La Liz. This is ILLEGAL! Liz had a voice like a sweet piece of velvet and HoHan has a voice like a sweet piece of velvet after it got ran over by a semi-truck, used as toilet paper by a homeless junkie and chewed up by a crackhouse rat. The only ho in the world of Elizabeth Taylor that Lindsay Lohan should play is Larry Fortensky.

La Liz herself said it best:

You hear that, Lifetime? Unless you're planning on digging up Liz's corpse, just stop! Actually, maybe that's not a bad idea. Liz's corpse would look better on camera, give a more believable performance and would never get caught doing lines with her mother on the toilet seat in her bathroom trailer.

 
The Silver Fox & A Shake Weight: The Love Story That Never Was Top

Talking gay Siamese Cat Andy Cohen made an "I see what you did there" on Watch What Happens Live! last night when he handed Anderson Cooper an electric handjob trainer that most of us know as the Shake Weight. I'm sort of on a semi-mahboobatical, because my fucked-up obsession reached the top levels of insanity and I realized that he was keeping Carrot Top from making more appearances in my fap dreams. So when Andy handed him that Shake Weight, I stuffed a Valium in my peen hole to keep it from exploding off of my crotch while knocking my dormant Mah Boo obsession (mahboobsession?) back into me, but I didn't need to do that! Because Anderson's Shake Weighting skills barely registered a 0.00001 on the fap scale. Watch and be prepared to know what it feels like when your genitals frown:


We all know that Anderson can shake a weight with the best of them, because it's etched into the tiles in the bathroom at Eastern Bloc, but the ho held back. I'm surprised that green Shake Weight didn't turn blue from the sexual frustration The Silver Fox put it through. I'm sure Horny Bear would say that he's seen actual silver foxes in the forest handle a Shake Weight better than Anderson did. But you know, I put all the blame on Andy Cohen. Andy should've given Anderson a Shake Weight that was olive-colored, covered in throbbing veins and had at least two biceps on it. Give Anderson something to work with!

via Buzzfeed (Thanks to everybody who sent this in)

 
The CAPTION THIS Contest WINNER For January 9th! Top

Pimp Mama Kris: "Get it some implants, wax the stache, call it Kholleen and put it on the show with the others" - OurMissC

Runners-up:

It had a heart beat, some hair, and a protuberance that could be sucked on. It was optimistic, but never once imagined it would end up marrying Sienna Miller. - jazzfish_77

Steve Jobs's replacement isn't fairing too well after he released the prototype for Apple's newest gadget, the ibellybutton. It collects its own dust and it can talk. Cum collector sold separately. - jackie

Even Mark Wahlberg couldn't top that at the family reunion - Jintess

Note: The full picture is after the jump just in case your boss frowns upon pictures of titties with peen tip nipples and coochie beards. Jump!

read more

 
Hot Slut Of The Day! Top

If Venus was birthed in a Miller Lite box that swept up on the shores of a Miami-area swamp while surrounded by hillbillies smoking roach poison on a broken light bulb, she would look exactly like the modern sea goddess of Florida, Josie Goldberg! The sounds of Botticelli heeling himself in the crotch are echoing through the halls of heaven, because he will never forgive himself for being dead and not being able to capture this kind of awe-inspiring natural beauty in egg tempera.

Josie Goldberg is a much sought-after actress (credits: Millionaire Matchmaker, Farmer Wants a Wife, etc, etc), model and she's the sole reason why the Miami Dade Coastal Cleanup can never keep up. Because cigarettes, PBR cans and crack pipes drop out of the hands of beachgoers whenever Josie gloats (I meant to type "floats" but my finger jumped to "g" and it knows best) onto the sand in yet another early 90s vintage swimsuit from the AS IS box at the Lane Bryant outlet. They must free their hands to slow clap at her graceful murf-releasing skills.

But to me, Josie is known as the stunning ball of tepid sexiness that clogs up photo agency light boxes with her bikini beach photos every week. Seriously, I always see Florida's answer to the Birth of Venus on photo agency websites and I never knew who she was for the longest time. Josie is like a top-tier graduate of Phoebe Price's "Just Keep Showing Up On The Ho Stroll Until They Get Bored And Start Taking Your Picture" School of Ambition.

If you're still hungry for more of Josie, feast your eyes on this. I haven't seen posing like this since I skipped through SwimsuitsForAll.com a couple of seconds ago to research this highly important story.

 

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