Today's Evil Beet Gossip

Welcome Home, Lindsay

Lindsay Lohan’s Spray Tan on Her Legs Looks Terrible

Okay, did the Cirque Lodge drop-outs do Lindsay’s spray tan?

Because I find it hard to believe that anyone did that shit sober.

Or maybe Lindsay did it herself. With some $8 self-tanner she picked up at CVS. I hear she’s been short on money lately. Because, I mean, I’ve seen some fucked up tans on this girl, but this one takes the cake.

Hi, Lindsay.

Aren’t you glad you’re back home? Didn’t you miss this?

I missed you, baby. I know we fight, honey, but I do it because I love you so much. Shh, baby. Don’t cry. I’m just trying to show you how glad I am you’re home. You don’t trust me? Oh, baby girl, that’s because you’re stupid. Now go clean your fug ass up and cook me dinner.

lindsay_home1.jpg lindsay_home3.jpg lindsay_home4.jpg lindsay_home.jpg

Now This is How You Do Sober

Joanie “Chyna” Laurer and Captain Morgan at Spike Scream Awards

A fresh-from-rehab Joanie “Chyna” Laurer poses with Captain Morgan at the Spike Scream Awards in LA on Friday.

You know, I’ve seen more than one celeb in my life politely decline to be photographed with alcohol or anything alcohol-related, even when it’s an alcohol sponsoring the party. I was at a party once sponsored by Anheuser-Busch, whose PR folks desperately wanted to get a photo of Nick Cannon with a Budweiser, and he was just like, “No way. You can get as many photos of me as you want, but I’m not holding a beer.”

Chyna, dear, you might want to take a hint.

When I’m Right, I’m Right

VJ Logan from America’s Most Smartest Model

So we’re leaving Shag in Hollywood last night, due to the tragic lack of hot men there that night, and we’re waiting for the valet to bring our car around, when I spot this dude getting into the VIP line.

“This is retarded,” I tell my girls. “Just when we’re leaving, the hottest guy I’ve seen in forever shows up here.”

My friends gave me shit. “He’s not that hot!” they say. “You’re crazy!” They start laughing at me and shaking their heads. But I stick to my guns. “That guy is gorgeous,” I tell them. Just to annoy me and my kinda shy real-life personality, they go up and start chatting with him. They’re handing him their numbers as the valet brings my convertible around. “Get in the car!” I scream at them. I’m just plain mad at them now.

We’ve made it about a block down Cahuenga when he shouts at us. “Hey! Can I get a ride to Tokio?”

We tell him to hop in — we’re headed for Sunset, so he’s on our way. He says he’s just done the red carpet at the Roosevelt for some movie premiere there.

“Where would I know you from?” I ask.

“I’m on that new Vh1 show about models,” he says.

“America’s Most Smartest Model?” I ask. He nods.

When I’m right, I’m right, you guys.

Oh, and my friends gave him their numbers, but you know who got his?


Boo-yah, motherfuckers.