Do you know why I believe in God? Because photos of Lois Aldrin keep showing up on the internet, this time dressed up like the curtains I got at the local headshop/adult novelty store my freshman year in college. I am in LOVE with this crazy broad. Not only is she married to the world’s most bad ass astronaut but you also get the distinct impression that she’s keeping Julie Newmar trapped in a well with explicit directions to put the lotion on the skin. Amen.
Let’s be clear. I would still hit it. Oh yes I would. Every day of the week and –depending on how long church ran and if I had a headache from helping the priests finish the Communion wine– twice on Sundays.
That being said, Jeremy Irons who has admittedly been hot longer than I’ve been alive, was not looking his best at The 62nd Annual Tony awards on Sunday what with the Harry Potter specs and the facial foliage. I don’t trust mustaches. Facial hair is something about which one must be ever vigilant, lest a simple soup strainer turn into something far more sinister.
Mischa, sugarlump, I feel your pain. The Daily Mail used a picture of your backside to illustrate “the modern hell of cellulite” and that sucks. But don’t worry baby, it happens to everyone (wow, I’ve never said that before and meant it, I feel so free! -ed.) My own personal thighs look like two topographical maps of Norway. Since I’m older than you, I feel it’s my duty and privilege to share with you my time-tested cure for the dimples of doom.
They’re called “pants.”
According to the New York Post, what we are seeing here is Tony Parker and his blushing bride Eva Longoria leaving an afternoon of shopping at Armani Exchange.
Armani Exchange? Armani Exchange? Tony, Tony, Tony. I’m not the world’s biggest sports enthusiast, truth be told I lost all interest in spectator sports when the Olympic mens swimmers traded their beloved Speedos for those full coverage Amish swimsuits.
God, that was a rough month.
ANYWAY. You play for the San Antonio Spurs. I know that because I looked it up. I ALSO know that the San Antonio Spurs is not what is called a “farm team.” So why on earth are you shopping at Armani Exchange? Are you secretly a drunk teenager? Has that Longoria woman wasted away all your hard-earned cash on self tanner and unflatteringly pale lip color? Wither the Giorgio Armani? Wither the Armani Privé?
Jeeze, at least Kobe bought couture.
Because it would be really wrong for me to make fun of True Whitaker, the comparatively-normal-named child (siblings include Sonnet and Ocean) of Forest Whitaker if she’s just a kid.
So instead of making all sorts of comments like how it looks like Candy Spelling bought an entire wilderness preserve stocked with 80′s film extras, hired Dolce and Gabbana to hunt them down, make outfits out of their tanned hides and pose them in life-like positions in her much lauded gift-wrapping room, I will just point your attention to the fact that it looks that the cow and the chicken on the Farm Sanctuary logo are totally about to make out. Hott.
The News of The World –the finest publication in the history of the universe– has an exclusive interview with Towers of London drummer Snell (which is not his real name, making him a –groan– mock Snell) who reveals all the dirt on the pseudo-psqueaky 19 year-old including how she disregarded the sanctity of “firsties.”
Honestly, what do they teach these kids in schools these days? That’s just lack of breeding. I suspect Sir Bob must have secretly raised her in a barn. Also, don’t take drugs from people with pixelated faces. Safety first.
