“I retract my statement. Britney needs to not be left alone right now. I think if everyone left her alone, she could do some major damage to herself.”
Chris “Leave Britney Alone” Crocker, to Page Six
January 7, 2008 at 9:26 am by Evil Beet
Since we can’t do the Daily Britney right now, as she’s holed up at home being rude, we’re switching to a daily Paris for now.
Paris went out to Villa Lounge with her sister last night, then headed to the Beverly Hills Hilton for a nightcap.
January 6, 2008 at 11:43 am by Evil Beet
Kristin Cavallari celebrated her 21st birthday at LAX in Vegas last night. The photos are on WireImage today.
Can we please talk about how this happened? What has Kristin Cavallari done in, oh, the past three years? Nothing. Nothing at all. So how the hell did she get LAX to host her birthday party and WireImage to be there to photograph?
I need to use her publicist.
January 6, 2008 at 11:17 am by Evil Beet
Man, I love this girl.
Apparently her drunk-ass (now-ex-) boyfriend roughed her up in a Sacramento hotel room, and the both of them got dragged off to jail on domestic violence charges.
I’m just gonna copy/paste what she wrote on her blog, because she’s a brilliant writer herself, and I’m not going to be able to add much to this. She said “hoosegow.” Nothing I can do will ever top saying “hoosegow.” Nothing ever. I love you, Elyse. If you want to be BFF, seriously, email me. Like, you know the way all my little 10-year-old commenters feel about Miley Cyrus and Ashley Tisdale? How they’re all like “mily i luv u and u shoud b my best freind heres my addres its 502 harriet st in scarsdle the key is behnd a rock near the hose just let urself in if u coud come 2 my scool and tell every1 we r bff that wud be awsome bc i alredy told them that” and then I have to hurry and delete the comment before they get raped by someone who looks a lot like Vince Vaughn these days? That’s how I feel about you. I fantasize about us being best friends, sitting around eating Thai food and watching American Idol, and you briefly interrupt your painfully acerbic and hilarious comments only to look me in the eyes and tell me how much you value our friendship. That’s what I want, Elyse. That’s what I want for us.
I’ll let Elyse take over from here.
1.) On the drive home (home?) from Albuquerque to Portland, my ex-boyfriend got shitfaced and roughed me up in a Sacramento hotel. I escaped from the room through a blitzkrieg of violence and talked to hotel security, who called the fuzz.
2.) Because he had a bite mark, inflicted in self-defense, on his arm, Marty told the police to PRESS CHARGES OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST ME. Now I am a felon.
3.) I spent the night in jail. Dig the hilarous monetary contents of my wallet as described by the pig who booked me:
4.) Jailors. America’s Next Top Model fans, all. As the warden took pics of my bloody knuckles for evidence (!!!! evidence!), he quipped, “So there goes that hand modeling job, huh? What’s Tyra going to say about this?” And here is how I was summoned from the holding cell for a strip-search, complete with a thorough plumbing of the boodissy: “Hey, Supermodel! Git over here!”
4.) A bail bondsman (!!! I have a bail bondsman!) got me out of the hoosegow this morning and took me to a hotel room where I now await my court date. Martin Lesley Crandall is still incarcerated. You can follow his saga by searching for his name on sacsheriff.com (click on “inmate information”).
So I’m stuck in Sac-town, alone and lonely, for 4-5 days until court. Court! OMFG.
On the flip side, I’m single and um, ready to mingle. Blind date, anyone?
ETA: Breakfast in jail is served at 4:00am. Meat-stuffed croissant. And, you should already know what a “kite” is if you’ve been studying your 50 Cent lyrics. But “toilet talk”? That was a new one for me. Apparently, if you bail all the water out of the toilet, you can use the pipes to talk to inmates on different floors. And, girl, you can tell who do it ’cause they got like a big rash or whatever on they face from puttin’ it down in the toilet and shit. Damn..
Heh heh. “(!!! I have a bail bondsman!)” Elyse, if you ever want a stint as a guest-blogger around here, you’re so hired.
Update: I should add that the abusive boyfriend in question here is Marty Crandall, the keyboardist for the Shins.
January 6, 2008 at 3:05 am by Evil Beet
Lindsay Lohan has to realize at some point that every time a penis goes into her vagina, it comes out a million dollars richer. Once your penis is in Lindsay Lohan, it’s like a golden penis. It is a penis worth its weight in gold. That penis orgasms gold dust. That is a gilded urethra. Lindsay Lohan’s vagital cavity is essentially a gold mine. I could go on. I have more.
But I’ll leave some for the other bloggers.
Just weeks after Riley Giles sold his story to News of the World, some dude Linds banged in Italy is selling her out, too.
“Lindsay was very, very good and surprisingly experienced. She wanted to do everything, every position. She was extremely flexible and adventurous … I was hurt and sad when I found out about the other guys. I think that’s the way things are with Lindsay. But she was very sweet and loving in bed. It was a good sex match.”
After meeting on a “hydrofoil” (What the hell is a hydrofoil? It sounds like something my hairdresser says I should try.), he says “I couldn’t believe it when she asked if I could come to the dinner afterwards. I was proud to accompany herâ€”then she invited me to a couple of clubs with her two friends. Despite her recent troubles she was downing alcoholâ€”vodka cranberry and vodka soda. All of a sudden, she pressed up close, looked me in the eyes and asked if she could kiss me. It was a strange role-reversal and it took me aback. But I came to my senses and kissed her. We did nothing but kiss in the club after that. She didn’t care who was watching. I never imagined in my wildest dreams we would end up in bed. We spent a long time talking, lying side by side on top of her bed. She told me about her problems with drugs and alcohol. She said she was trying to get over them and that she’d spent time in a rehab clinic but didn’t want to talk too much about that. She kept telling me she liked me because I was “a good boy”â€”I don’t smoke or take drugs. She said she was falling for me, she liked me. I liked her too. The thing that struck me most about her was her intelligenceâ€”I found her very lucid and bright … She adored kissing and never wanted to stopâ€”no matter what we were doing. We had safe sex, and afterwards she cuddled up to me and we went to sleep.”
At least she’s having safe sex! Now if only Lindsay could learn to keep NDAs on her bedstand with the condoms.
January 5, 2008 at 11:27 pm by Evil Beet
Halle showed up at the Palm Springs Film Festival’s awards night looking fantastic and quite preggers.
Where is her hottie model boyfriend? I haven’t seen a shot of him recently. I’m sure all is still well in paradise, but I miss seeing his hottie face.