Today's Evil Beet Gossip
Relationships

Bang or Bust: Hayden Panettiere

photo of Hayden Panettiere at the beach in a red bikini

Hayden Panettiere was photographed frolicking on the beach yesterday — without her Jack and the Beanstalk giant boyfriend, Wladimir Klitschko. And though he’s not pictured in these latest photographs, I thought I’d do a “Bang or Bust” on those two, ’cause they’re just so damned adorable together. It was like when Gary Coleman married Gummy McBallgag Shannon Price.

Panettiere, who I’m kind of indifferent about in her wee existence, looks banging hot in her two-piece lifeguard-looking bikini and I think it’s honestly a toss-up between her and her super-sized boyfriend.

Who would you rather? Eeny-weenie midget porn or orifice-ripping boxer sex? The choice … is yours.

Anna Paquin: “My Bisexuality is Not a Publicity Stunt.”

photo of actress anna paquin in a black dress with boyfriend

Remember Anna Paquin’s piece for that “Give a Damn” LGBT awareness thing? Turns out it was legit. Not that I expected it not to be, but I guess a lot of people were giving her flak because they thought that her bisexuality was a fumbling grope for attention, so she spoke out recently to correct those dumb-assed haters:

“I’m not someone who endlessly talks about her personal life for no reason but obviously, as someone who identifies as bisexual, those are issues I really care about — and frankly, I don’t see why everyone doesn’t care about them,” she told Zap2it. “So when I was asked to participate in that PSA, it was just obvious. ‘Well, of course I will’.”

And really, in this day and age, why is this such a big deal? She’s a chick who likes dudes … and chicks. Is there something so wrong with that? I certainly don’t think so. And clearly, there’s a lot of other people in today’s society that doesn’t think so, either. But always, there’s going to be few rotten, worm-infested apples with that brown, smushy stuff under the skin that always ruin the barrel and turn everything else to funk. And you guys? Get over yourselves, for real.

I love me some Anna Paquin, and I don’t give a flaming, flying crap-sack of blue monkeys if she’s into fucking blue monkeys, men, women or Wall Street execs, which is probably the worst of all evils.

Ronson + Lohan = True Love 4-Eva?

photo of samantha ronson and lindsay lohan during better days

Oh, barf. Like, really. Barf.

If ever there were two people who should stay far, far from one another, it’s Samantha Ronson and Lindsay Lohan. While I dig the two of them on their own (one a bit more than the other, naturally), combining their forces is like sticking a wet finger into a live light socket. Great idea, huh?

Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. (And I speak from experience … I’ve done it. We won’t talk about this again.)

At any rate, exclusive insiders at Betty Confidential claim that Sam and Lindsay are definitely back on and it’s all being attributed to Lindsay’s latest stint of sobriety:

… Now that Lindsay has to put down the bottle, Sam is having a change of heart.

“Sam still cares for Lindsay,” says our source, “and now that Lindsay is staying sober, Sam is proud of her and knows they can at least talk without getting into any fights.”

And not only are the two being civil toward one another (no nipple pinching or face-spitting or crotch stabbing), they actually talked for, like, hours the other night:

“They spent the night talking recently – all night long – and they are on their way to mending their broken relationship,” our source says. “It’s going to take more than one night of talking, but it’s a start. As long as Lindsay stays sober and healthy, Sam will be there for her through her sentencing.”

Great. I can just see how this one’s going to pan out. Lohan stays kinda-sober until her probation is up and Ronson (who, in a fit of renewed dedication to her on-again, off-again girlfriend, dyes her hair blonde to match her lady love’s over-processed, lackluster locks) sticks with it — and yes, by “it,” I do mean Lohan — until the very first post-freedom bender occurs. Then the fur’s just gonna fly. Cats within a thirty-mile radius will be running for cover and liquor stores are going to shut their doors, bolt their locks and board their windows. I’m betting that Lindsay and Sam last as long as this court-ordered sobriety does — and that’s not much longer than a fortnight as it were.

Jenny McCarthy is a Rebound Ho

The breakup between Jenny McCarthy and Jim Carrey is still pretty fresh — Carrey’s still experiencing the emotional fallout that’s been publicized through his very public Twitter account and now I think I know the reason behind his sad, sad feelings: ex-girlfriend McCarthy is apparently fucking some dude that has a really sketchy hairline and fishbowl eyes.

McCarthy and her hand-holding “friend” were photographed this past weekend outside of a Los Angeles club, where the former girlfriend of funnyman Jim Carrey was all smiles. She also had red-painted nails, which we all know is the color of the devil.

(Sorry, I watched The Village last night and I still have a slight aversion to the color red.)

Nick Cannon is Still Really Excited, Optimistic About Being Married to Mariah Carey

And he just can’t stop singing her praises. According to Mimi’s husband, Nick Cannon, she does everything with a flair for the talented: singing, dressing, designing really fucking awful perfumes and now, cooking.

Cannon, who is to appear on Rachael Ray’s show today, boasts that his wife is not only a dynamic business woman that happens to have seventy-five different octaves to her singing register, she cooked a turkey “the size of New Jersey” for their latest Thanksgiving feast:

“She cooks! People are always so surprised to see she cooks, but she’s a great cook …”

Nick, hon, I wouldn’t be trying too hard. I mean, it’s great and all that you say you love your wife and renew your vows every fucking year, but if you’re worried about the cash cow leaving you behind in the barn, I hardly think you need to. She’s never going to leave you — she probably thinks that she can’t do any better for some inane reason. You’re in for a nice little lavish life, though, at any rate. Y’all can sit around in your sweatpants and eat chocolates until wifey’s fat enough to wheel around the house in a chair and then you can take her for jaunts around your topiary. One day you’ll go and take a phone call and you’ll hear “Nick! NICKY!” and come running … Miss Mimoo will be on her side like a chocolate-stained bloated Elvis looking for help off of the toilet, looking up at you and there’ll be a glimmer — some kind of reminder — of who the lady, the woman, Mariah Carey used to be. Or maybe it’s just hunger. Or gas.

But at any rate, that’ll make it all worthwhile, now, won’t it?