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This is the ridiculously hot Megan Fox at a recent Transformers press conference. Her Egyptian potato sack (?) dress is revealing one of her several tattoos. I’m not one to judge, but it’s well known tattoos are for whores. They don’t call it a ho’ stamp for nothing. True story. Here’s what she said in FHM about her ink.

Fox has said of her tattoos: “I have five. Anytime I have a feeling about anything, I get tattooed. I have a poem I wrote on my ribcage and a symbol for strength on my neck, and my boyfriend Brian’s name tattooed next to my pie.”

That one one her back there is a version of a quote from King Lear (for you literary muthafuckas), but its kinda creepy because that’s what King Lear said to his daughter in the touching scene where they are led off to prison. So is this ironic? Or literal? Is she the tragic gilded butterfly for whom a fatherly figure (Daddy? David Austin Greene? Hollywood?) must suffer as he sees her caged, never to fly, and ultimately fall too soon for her years? Or was this scrawled in eyeliner pencil on the bathroom stall just above the toilet seat when she chopped up that last coke rail?

‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.’

In one picture, Maggie Gyllenhaal has single-handedly become my hero. I have so many questions, but all I can do is stare. I can’t tell if that youngin’ is actually breast-feeding or just mocking what daddy does every night after 9pm. But more importantly, Maggie is my favorite kind of mother. You know, the ones who just let their babies latch on in the middle of the freaking street, without a bit of modesty, as if it’s natural to show your boobs on a bench in public. It is, isn’t it? The only way this picture could be better is if they were in Burger King surrounded by dirty-faced little urchins crying MAWma! and DIDdeee!. Cause nothing suggests redneck upward mobility like a peep show in the BK lounge.
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Jessica Simpson, beyond desperate for a comeback, and borderline looney, is seeking advice from pop diva Mariah Carey to get her back on track. I know, right? Where do we even go from here?

Jess has turned to the Queen of Comebacks for inspiration. In July 2001, Mariah made a bizarre appearance on MTV’s TRL, on which she performed a striptease and handed out ice cream to the audience. The five-octave soprano then had a breakdown in a Manhattan hotel, smashing crockery and cutting her feet and hands. She was ultimately admitted to the Silver Hill Hospital for what her publicist described as “an emotional and physical breakdown.”

Fucking classic!

“Jessica has been singing Mariah’s praises endlessly,” a friend of the former MTV reality star dishes to OK!. “She thinks Mariah is amazing and appreciates that she may be able to learn from her. Jessica’s career has lost steam, but she feels that with the right advice, she could be back on track.” “Jessica and Mariah are discovering they have a lot in common and are speaking frequently by phone,” (source)

Double U. Tee. Eff.

My 78 year-old grandma on an oxygen machine, smoking Kool Menthols, watching Jerry Springer in her trailer is less white trash than this story. I could talk about Chladni’s figures of acoustic modes of vibration and oscillation in classical physics and it’d sooner make sense than seeking advice from Mariah Carey. (Math nerds, call me.)

A lot in common. Hmmm. White-trash image? Check. Disastrous public love-life? Check. Box office bombs? Check. Big boobs? Double D check. Maybe it isn’t a stretch, but I still wouldn’t seek guidance from an ice cream pushing, masochistic psychopath. If I want that kind of advice, I’ll call mom. Cheer up, Jessica, you can’t sing for shit and your love-life is a joke, but you still have your outrageously sweet rack to keep you afloat. Keep up those cheese sammiches, girl. America thanks you. (pics via)

Super hot movie star Jessica Alba claims she’s “goofy”?. And my question is: Who cares? She can claim to be Rolanda Queen of the Nicaraguan Sunsets as long as she keeps making movies in a bikini. Nothing says acting chops like a string bikini. True story.

“People think of me as just a sexy girl,” the self-described “dork,” 26, says in the June issue of InStyle, “but I’m really goofy , like, super goofy.”

Not that she’s knocking her looks, which first made her famous on the 2000-02 TV series Dark Angel. “I had womanly curves at a young age,” she says. “Usually kid actors are a few years older than the roles they play. I was two or three years younger.” (source)

This is the point where I would call Jessica a conceited whore because I really think she is, but with that body, goofy or not, she could poke out your eye with a pencil sharpened on the sidewalk and you’d still line up to drink her bath water. Where I come from, having curves at a young age is not as sexy as it may sound. It pretty much relegates you to marriage by senior year, dropping out and living in a trailer park taking care of three dirty faced children while your husband, the former football captain, shows off his skills as the manager of the Piggly Wiggly. I’m not saying that southern teen mothers are trashy uneducated whores. Well actually, yes. Yes I am. But Jesus loves them, god bless ‘em, and that’s all that matters.

Here’s Jessica getting into some trouble with the law. You have the right to remain sexy. Owwww.

And we’re not referring to Rosie O’Donnell, but a real pig. Zing! I’m so bad. No really, I am. Bless my southern girl’s heart.

Victoria Beckham’s US visit didn’t go as well as she’d have us all believe, after it was revealed she was the victim of a pig attack. The incident happened when the Queen of Pout was viewing schools in LA for her three sons. As she visited a science block in one school, a pack of pot belly pigs made a b-line for the would-be fashion guru. A source told the National Enquirer, ‘

Victoria was being shown around the science lab when two pet pot-bellied pigs, who are allowed to roam free, snuffled up to her.’ Instead of warming to the pigs and petting them, Posh fled the scene with the source adding, ‘She screamed, ‘Get it away!’, and tried to run away in her high heels. It was hysterical, everyone was trying so hard not to laugh.’ (source)

Pork fat rules. But I’m going to be uncharacteristically sympathetic. She probably doesn’t even know what a pig looks like. She looks likes the only protein she gets is liquid. (Again. I am bad person.) She prolly thought the pig was a Scientology spirit trying to infiltrate her body in order to drain her life force for the greater good of planet Neuromac. Where is Tom Cruise when you need him? But just to be sure no harmful energy penetrated her soul and compromised her being, she might want to consider a colonic and a 30-day detox plan. Don’t fuck with her chi. Bitches.