Archive for the ‘The Manson Family Got Along Better Than These People…’ Category

Our Honeymoon And You: The Story of Mark, Future School Shooter

November 10, 2013
See how that car is SLIDING along the ferris wheel which is moving in its customary CIRCULAR MOTION? Important.

See how that car is SLIDING along its own elliptical track AT THE SAME TIME as the ferris wheel continues its customary CIRCULAR MOTION? Important.

Location: Mickey’s “Fun” Wheel. Paradise Pier. Disney’s California Adventure. Anaheim, California. October 2013
Time: Late afternoon? I don’t know. The sun was lowering but it was still light out.
Dramatis Personae: Myself. My husband. Unnamed father (Major Dad). Unnamed younger brother (Lil’ Bro). Mark.

Mark’s face had acne scorched along the sides, right on the opposing planes where women apply blush. His eyes were beady. His mouth was sealed shut in a pale steam shovel. MARK WAS MAD. MARK WAS TERRIFIED AND MAD. He was 13, maybe 14, and seated across from me in the small metal car affixed to Mickey’s “Fun” Wheel. Scotty was to my right. The little guy whom I assumed was Mark’s younger brother was seated between Mark and the father. His eyes were wide but he was dealing. The car’s movement was somewhat sickening as it periodically SLID down it’s own rail and then SWUNG BACK AND FORTH while the main wheel continued to go round.

Dad looked like he had served in our nation’s military. He was sandy-haired, glasses; handsome but clueless when it came to interpreting his children. He was right below “golf” but high above “slicked-down hair at church” and “short-sleeved dress shirt. He probably knew how to catch and clean a fish. You know – a Dad.

Mark did not want to be on this ride. Mark’s headphones, which you knew he had worn defiantly and sullenly during his day here in Anaheim: Birthplace of Happiness, were almost vibrating off his neck due to shivering. Mark’s pasty hand with the long gawky fingers was melded around the door handle to the right of his head. If this car fell or flung us out, they were going to have to BLAST that handle out of Mark’s dead hand.

Looking from Major Dad to Mark, it was painfully clear that Major Dad didn’t know dick about how to deal with his son. To him, his son was an albino monosyllabic string bean who wasn’t going to “do drugs” or get the beatdown at school from the jocks on HIS watch. Let’s toughen him up! Forcing him to go on this ride will surely result in one of those Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints commercials that used to run in the 80s. Not “who broke my window?” but the one where the father and son have to run to catch the garbage truck and end up missing it but laughing together about their little slapstick adventure. Bonding!

Major Dad wasn’t The Great Santini. But you know as you get older and lose the ability to detect the subtle intents and emotions of others? Major Dad had that problem in regards to Mark. He thought that Mark would thank him for this in his valedictorian speech at Annapolis. What Dad didn’t realize was that Mark will remember this and eventually –

A) Grow up and move far, far away from him and maybe speak to him via text on holidays and possibly marry someone of color telling himself it has nothing to do with freaking his father out.
B) Bring that nowadays sadly common rifle to first period
C) Stab him in his sleep

This sounds snarky, but this knowledge was predicated on their conversation.

Major Dad: Mark, Mark, see it’s not so bad.
Mark: No.
Major Dad: C’mon bud, it’s nothing. You’re fine.

Mark’s head slowly turned up from staring at the floor, and swiveled to fix his father with such a glare of hatred that my eyebrows crisped. I resisted throwing my hands up in front of my face.

Mark (through gritted teeth): NO.

And there was this one:

Lil Bro’ (concerned): I think Mark’s scared, Dad.
Mark: SHUT UP.
Dad: Nah, he’s fine. You’re fine. Right, Mark? Oh wait, here we go again. Hold on, Mark! WHEEEE!

Meanwhile my husband, who is able to float through any awkwardness on a cloud of semisolid cluelessness, noticed Little Bro was as nervous as his brother. Little Bro’s eyes were wide as we slid, dipped and SWUNG BACK AND FORTH once more. At a very great height. Little Bro seemed to be used to the fact that Dad’s concern was usually with Mark.

Scotty (chuckling): You look like I feel.

Little Bro nodded and smiled, seemingly happy that an adult agreed with him that this ride was fiendish.

Meanwhile, I’m sharing the opposite end of the car with ole’ Mark. Mark seems to have gotten paler. I want to reach out to him and say something fitting which will translate as “it’s ok that you’re scared, heights are the worst, and your Dad is kind of a dickus for making you go on this. You don’t need to toughen up;  you just need to know it’s ok that you don’t fit in. It’s your Dad that needs to toughen up. Also, please don’t shoot up the school. Get into some bands, make some friends, and roll your eyes a lot.” That’s not me, though. I would try to fit that into something small and witty and it would come off completely unintelligible. Like I was as clueless as his Dad or hitting on him. That’s just me. In my head, I’m 16 and get it but in reality I’m almost 40 and entirely lame. Maybe I should get some cards printed up to pass out to sullen teens.

The ride seemed to take forever. We made small talk with Major Dad in-between bellowing at the slightly sickening motion of the car. We discussed Gravity and he informed us that the “World of Color” show later on that night was comparable to the fountain show at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas. Watching the show that evening, it was evident that he lacked a degree in Comparative Watershow.

Meanwhile, I prayed inwardly that Mark didn’t have a butterfly knife in his backpack. And Dad just kept egging him on!

Major Dad: How we doin’, Mark?
Mark: *silent*
Major Dad: You wanna ride it again?
Mark: NO!

That’s when my husband leans over to whisper “he’s going to shoot up his school” in my ear, despite the person in question sitting maybe three feet across from us. Scott’s convinced that “people don’t listen”, and I’m convinced that someone in the future will reveal themselves to have perfect hearing and ugliness will ensue.

We pulled into port. Scotty and I disembarked quickly and quietly, our notes waiting to be compared. Mark moved to a corner, QUIVERING in rage and hatred, fists clenched, even his backpack seemed to clench, his cap’s brim pulled over his eyes and his sweaty skate company t-shirt soaked with fear and humiliation. He was pale and he hated, HATED his father right then.

Major Dad: Aw, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad. Calm down..

I didn’t catch Mark’s reply but it sounded like it was shrill and from a place of powerlessness. I felt for Mark. I felt for Major Dad, too. Talk about an impasse. How did we all grow up again? When did we become cynical monsters? I know how the assumption become “possible school shooter” when faced with a certain type of disenfranchised adolescent. It’s just sad.

I would like to think that they watched the “World of Color” show again that night. And even though Mark was off to the side glowering, his Dad at one point pulled him to his side (Disney is family magic) and Mark let him.  And he might have even unstiffened his spine for a minute realizing his Dad loved him in his stupid way.  Lil’ Bro ate too much fried dough and puked.

Oh, and…

That Was Fast: Levi Johnston And Bristol Palin’s Second Engagement Ended The Day They Announced It

August 3, 2010

That kid knew what was up...

Someone get Mercede (Levi smoked the “s” up in his bong) Johnston on the clam and ask her what’s up! Bristol Palin has told People that her second engagement with redneckian Levi Johnston was over before it began. People from Alaska are fickle. Actually, people from Alaska probably want these two dumb muthafuckas to stop repping their state.

“It’s over. I broke up with him,” Bristol Palin tells PEOPLE exclusively of her second try at an engagement to Levi Johnston, father of her 19-month-old son Tripp.

Palin, 19, says the relationship soured on July 14, the very same day they announced their marriage intentions to the world. Palin says he told her that evening he might have fathered a baby with another teenage girl. (Palin did not name the young woman, but a pregnant former girlfriend of Johnston’s has since publicly denied his paternity.)

Alaska’s former gubernatorial teen pregnancy advocate says that Levi was too busy rubbing his balls on the “O” in the Hollywood sign to actually care about getting married. Also, he was a lie-teller. He’s smart enough to tell a convincing lie?

“The final straw was him flying to Hollywood for what he told me was to see some hunting show but come to find out it was that music video mocking my family,” she says. “He’s just obsessed with the limelight and I got played.”

It warms the cockles of my heart that an immediate relative of a former vice-presidential candidate used the phrase “I got played” in a tearful phone call to People magazine. I’m waiting for Levi to call US and ask “what’s good, pa?”

Sarah Palin released some bullshit statement that I can’t even bother to highlight…and copy…and paste but it was blah blah blah Bristol is special and her heart will go on. As for Bristol, she wants to find “someone who has religious beliefs and a good family.” Um, HELLO! YOU HAD SOMEONE WHO HAS A GOOD FAMILY! You need to remember the hotness you HAD in your immediate area before you got on the rag!

Lindsay’s Parents Upholding The Family Tradition Of “Whorish Moron”

July 7, 2010

I'd rather have Fred and Rosemary West as parents (look it up)...

Ooh, is anyone else hung over from the Lindsay Is Going To Jail party? I am. I think someone slipped me a roofie right after our third viewing of I Know Who Killed Me, and I woke up with the Duff sisters on top of me. You know those old-school tween stars raised a glass last night cuz’ bitch went down!

As expected, Dina Lohan acted her usual enabling stagemom “who’s gonna float me my Xanax money?” self yesterday when Lohan’s tearbombs burst as she heard she was going to do a bid and Dina heard the verdict. Here’s what Popeater says she said:

“This is so not fair to do this to my child,” a flabbergasted Dina Lohan told PopEater exclusively shortly after Judge Marsha Revel made the announcement.

Come again? Fair?!?!

Someone on Facebook mentioned that they sorta kinda felt bad for Lindsay because it’s fairly obvious this aging hag supported her ass by building the “you can do anything you want, you’re Supergirl, now sign this check for Mommy” scaffolding around her. Which made her a sociopath. Frankly, I think that as an adult, you can’t blame your shithead behavior on your parents. There is something called “responsibility.” RiRi Harvey once made me wear Chinese knock-off Nikes from Building #19 with the swish REVERSED and in GOLD LAME (they would be so hot nowadays) to school and I haven’t raped a nun, yet. Although it totally made me like boys…

But nevertheless it IS obvious that Lohan had next to no chance to even OBSERVE how a normal adult carries themselves while growing up. Not that it excuses anything. I wouldn’t excuse her from the Sarlac pit at this point, she’s so awful.

Oh, and don’t think Manic Mike Lohan didn’t show his crazy self outside the courtroom. Firstly, word is he tried to barge INTO the courtroom during the proceedings to attempt to read some sort of statement on behalf on Lindsay. Keep in mind that his entire estranged family wants nothing to do with him, and he is INSERTING himself into the center for attention. This is a grown-ass man. And check this out:

While he declined to issue a comment following the sentencing (ed. note – he must have had food in his mouth or something), his spokeswoman baffled reporters when she urged Lohan to report to rehab immediately, apparently unaware the actress must first go to jail. When corrected by an onlooker, the unidentified rep said the rehab portion of the ruling was “a great victory” for the Lohan family.

So basically, even their EMPLOYEES are crackers. Then again, this was probably some slut he met down the pub and declared her his “spokeswoman.” Right?

Groundbreaking Lesbian Performers Who Later Got Breast Cancer And Survived Can Be Cold-Ass Bitches, Too

July 5, 2010
Don't get too cozy, I totally have my eye on Jillian Michaels...

Don't get too cozy, I totally have my eye on Jillian Michaels...

Melissa Etheridge, normally the picture of easy-going graciousness and down-home sweetness and bravery, apparently has an icebox for a heart when it comes to offloading the ladies. Her ex Tammy Lynn Michaels (remember how hot she was as Nicole Julian on Popular?) says that Melissa blindsided her with divorce papers and has left her penniless. Yes I Am…..Moving On To The Next Vagina And Leaving You Toe-Up, indeed, Missa!

Tammy Baby has a blog (smart girl) and on it, she posts Rosie O’Donnell-esque poetry spurts about how her life has been going since she and Melissa did the splits. And the resounding themes are “not very well” and “Melissa sucks.”

SMACK!!!!!!!!!!!!
FILE FOR DIVORCE!!!!!!
even though we both promised
agreed
handshook
pinkyswore

no filing until after tour
in the fall

her broken promises
told to me by
headlines

i’m raising the kids
doing what i can
second set of yours

could you stop blind sighting me?

unless it’s another art form you’re working on?

(more…)

I Feel Kinda Bad For Mrs. Jackson

June 21, 2010

Isn't this a nice picture of them? I'm not being a cooze, I really mean it.

Isn't this a nice picture of them? I'm not being a cooze, I really mean it.

Katherine Jackson gave her first “How I feel about MJ dying” full-length interview to People, and she says that she doesn’t think Michael did any pills. Or other drugs. Uh. Oh. Well. Um. Oh, Katie.

“I heard from people that he was taking prescription drugs but I never saw my son in any way drugged.”

“If I could see him again,” she says, “I would want to know one thing: ‘Who did this to you?’ ”

Uh, well, I’m going to say he sorta/kinda did it to himself. Cuz’, I’m pretty sure he was taking A GRIP of drugs. Didn’t he also note publicly some years back (I think right before he fled to the Middle East during the bed sharing with children incident part 2) that he had a painkiller addiction? And didn’t the autopsy show that he was nothing BUT drugs? Like “hi, my body is 75% pharmaceuticals with my pasty skin and fake facial parts on top?”

Seriously, I can’t snark that much on her ass. She seems like a nice lady. And MJ did have some creepy hangers-on who were a little too prescription pad-happy. And she has to put up with that gross demon of a money-sucking husband. And raise three young kids. I know, she has money but it still can’t be easy.

Oh, and she also says that Michael’s kids (Paris, Prince, and Comforter) are home-schooled but will go to a private school next year. Oh, THAT’s not going to be tough for them or anything. Then again, they get to avoid having their grandfather trying to screw them out of their allowance and lemonade stand money all day. That guy is a surefire dick.

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I Can’t Believe I’m Writing About Gary Coleman, But His Widow Is Acting The Fool

June 7, 2010
The look on his face says it all. This might have been a suicide.

The look on his face says it all. This might have been a suicide.

As some of you are aware (despite Blanche Devereaux’s untimely passing eclipsing it like a parasol hides the face of a demure Southern belle, ok, bad analogy), Gary Coleman died. And it’s sad, because he died as sort of a running pop culture joke. A former child star who wanted to remain relevant but was only still popular because he was a former child star who wanted to remain relevant. And a former child star who would get into public fights with people mocking him, and marry publicity-thirsty slags (check the photo), and refuse to say “Whatchoo talkin’ bout, America?” when prodded. Who can blame him for wanting to hang onto his last shred of dignity, right?

Anyway, Gary’s ex-wife Shannon Price is some kinda bitch, because she is on an Arnold Drummond death tour and looking for scraps. And by scraps, I mean as much money as she can squeeze out of the little man’s death. The little man who, by the way, died sort of mysteriously after hitting his head during a fall at their home (supposedly it was a seizure?). You know this bitch tried to bite him with those monster chiclets and he was running away when he fell!

Anyway, Big Red took her clown act to Good Morning America this morning and continued to elude class and dignity by insisting that she was going to re-marry Gary (she wasn’t named in the will and they were divorced despite living together) and had nothing to do with his death. Oh, and during the interview, E! reports that she briefly halted it to fake a seizure. Girrrrllllll……

(more…)

Bijou Phillips Is Making Some Sense, I Think I’ll At Least Allow Some Mama Cass Songs Back In My iTunes

September 25, 2009

phillips-395x298-famoussistersgallery

So I’m fascinated/skeeved when relatively famous people vomit forth a big ole’ scandal like incest…so I’ve been following this Mackenzie Phillips ruckus closely. Mackenzie’s half-sister Bijou released a statement to Oprah in which she doesn’t actually agree with Mac but is a little less “shut up, delusional junkie bitch” than Michelle Phillips was.

“When I was 13, Mackenzie told me that she had a consensual sexual relationship with our father. This news was confusing and scary, as I lived alone with my father since I was 3. I didn’t know what to believe, and it didn’t help that shortly there after Mackenzie told me it didn’t happen. Mackenzie’s history with our father is hers, but also clouded with 30 years of drug abuse. I hope she can come to terms with this and find peace. The life I had with my father was very different. He was Mr. Mom, encouraging and loving. The man that raised me would never be capable of doing such things, and if he was, it is heartbreaking to me to think that my family would leave me alone with him. I understand Mackenzie’s need to come clean with a history she feels will help others, but it’s devastating to have the world watch as we try and mend broken fences, especially when the man in question isn’t here to defend himself.”

She has her points. And here I thought she was kinda flighty-seeming. By the way, Bijou flew to Mackenzie’s rescue when she got pinched at LAX with coke and heroin last year. So they’re close. You know who your friends are if they roll up with your bail money. Mackenzie went on Oprah (again) today and answered Bijou’s questions.

Mackenzie Phillips told Winfrey that her family’s disbelief and anger saddened her, especially since she and Bijou Phillips have been very close. Phillips recalled the way Bijou immediately came to her aid when she was arrested last year for cocaine and heroin possession.

“I love my baby sister, and I miss having contact with her,” Mackenzie said.

“By the time Bijou was living with my father, I felt she was safe. I did take her out of there if I felt like she wasn’t being watched properly,” she said in her defense.

God, this story seriously has me wishing for childhood items like my binky, my blanket, and my Barbie doll. These bitches could have afforded an in-house therapist and shit. Was there anyone on watch who could have said something to someone? They need to go have some sort of service at dude’s grave and hash it out Steel Magnolias screaming at the graveyard-style. Then maybe go for a cocktail. Well, Mackenzie might wanna have a Shirley Temple….

Oh, and I have to add this despite being pretty much an atheist. Chynna Phillips has hitched her star to Mackenzie’s wagon and has been publicly supporting her (she has an album coming out…not with Wilson Phillips, which is a damn shame). Anyway, Chynna has urged Mackenzie to deal with her problems by getting “the Lord on board.” HAH! I love that one!

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Add “Dedicated To The One I Love” To The List *gag*

September 24, 2009

mac

So this Mackenzie Phillips saying she was sleeping with her Dad thing just keeps getting worse. While promoting her new book on Oprah, she claimed that she had slept with her father John Phillips of the Mama and the Papas for around ten years AND that she might have been pregnant with his kid. And you thought Chuck Manson was the bitch who ruined the 60s!

Phillips, who starred on TV’s “One Day at a Time,” said the sexual relationship with her father lasted a decade and ended when she became pregnant and didn’t know who had fathered the child. She had an abortion, which her father paid for, and “and I never let him touch me again.”

That’s from HuffPo. Dude, she’s gotta be for real, right? I mean, this is epic in its wrongness so why bother? Mackenzie has had an effed up life (she was busted in August last year for trying to take the hard stuff through LAX and I don’t mean bricks) and honey, this could account for it.

Phillips told Winfrey that she first tried cocaine when she was 11 years old. Her father did drugs with her, taught her to roll joints and injected her with cocaine. Phillips said she’s been clean for a year after pleading guilty to possessing cocaine and entering a drug treatment program.

Phillips said the sexual relationship, although she believes it became consensual, was “an abuse of power” and “a betrayal” on her father’s part. She said she forgave John Phillips on his deathbed.

“I can’t be the only one this has happened to,” Phillips said. “Someone needs to put a face on consensual incest.”

It’s been faced alright. Coke at 11? I thought I was hot for stirring the Nestle Quik myself. And what does the rest of her family have to say about it?

Winfrey also read a statement from Genevieve Waite, John Phillips’ wife at the time of the alleged abuse and Mackenzie’s stepmother that said he was “incapable, no matter how drunk or drugged he was, of having such a relationship with his own child.”

Score one for the opposing team. And John’s most famous ex, his Mama and Papas bandmate Michelle Phillips, isn’t buying Mac’s story either. Michelle’s an old soul and she’s been around the block. Oldie slept with EVERYONE in Hollywood back in the day. It was the 60s. You basically couldn’t walk down Sunset Blvd. without getting someone’s penis in you. Jesus, Sonny Bono was getting laid. Ok, it was by Cher. Wait, what? Oh, Michelle Phillips slapping on Mackenzie. And I do mean slapping, cuz’ read this.

“Mackenzie has a lot of mental illness. She’s had a needle stuck up her arm for 35 years. She was arrested for heroin and coke just recently. She did ‘Celebrity Rehab’ and now she writes a book. The whole thing is timed.” Michelle said it’s particularly ironic since her own daughter, Chynna, of Wilson Phillips fame, Mackenzie’s half sister, is releasing a new album this week.

“Mackenzie is jealous of her siblings, who have accomplished a lot and did not become drug addicts.”

Christmastime must be a real fucking treat in that family. Speaking of the Wilson Phillips chick (hold on one for one more day, things will go your way), she says that Mackenzie is for real.

Chynna, 41, tells Us Weekly she remembers getting the call from Mackenzie, 49, in 1997 — 11 years after the affair had ended — while she was between flights at LaGuardia Airport in New York City.

“She said, ‘I don’t know why, but I just really felt the need to call you and tell you something that I think you need to know,'” Chynna tells Us Weekly. “And she went on to tell me that she had had an incestuous relationship with our dad for about 10 years.”

“Somebody could have dropped a piano on my head and I probably wouldn’t have felt it,” the singer tells Us Weekly. “But I knew it was true. I mean, who in their right mind would make such a claim if it wasn’t true?”

That was probably the first and only time Chynna ever wished she was Carnie Wilson.

I’m thinking I believe Mackenzie. I’m not sure I agree with her throwing it out there. I guess she’s trying to help people in the same sitch? I just hope it isn’t for drug money, ya know? Then again, if that happened to me…I’d have fucking Peru up my nose. Screw it, Mac. Get the drug money.

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This Is Totally Wrecking “California Dreamin'” For Me

September 23, 2009

apg_phillips_080919_mn

Don’t eat your bagel just yet this morning, I’ve got some nasty news that is going to make you wish you skipped this link on Facebook. Mackenzie Phillips is the druggish 70s TV star who played the older sis on One Day At A Time, and is the daughter of 60s rock star John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas. Well get this – Mackenzie claims in her new book that she was sleeping with her Dad. Yeah, I just took any Mamas and Papas songs off my iTunes, too. Cuz, gross. I’m gonna miss “I Saw Her Again Last Night.” Mama Cass just re-choked on her ham sandwich in Big Girl Rock Star Heaven.

In her new memoir, High On Arrival, Phillips says that her Dad dropped a taboo off a very tall building when she woke up with him on top of her right before her wedding to her first husband in 1979.

“I had tons of pills, and Dad had tons of everything too. Eventually I passed out on Dad’s bed. My father was not a man with boundaries. He was full of love, and he was sick with drugs. I woke up that night from a blackout to find myself having sex with my own father. Had this happened before? I didn’t know. All I can say is it was the first time I was aware of it. For a moment I was in my body, in that horrible truth, and then I slid back into a blackout.”

I blame Valerie Bertinelli. This is some serious shit. This is a big accusation. And John Phillips is dead, so homeincest can neither confirm nor deny. And it gets…I was actually going to say better…I meant worse. Apparently their relationship wasn’t a one time thing. John reportedly wanted them to retire to Incest Island together.

“I was a fragment of a person, and my secret isolated me. One night Dad said, ‘We could just run away to a country where no one would look down on us. There are countries where this is an accepted practice. Maybe Fiji.’ He was completely delusional. No, I thought, we’re going to hell for this.”

Mackenize is one of the better known living examples of how drugs can throw your career in the wood chipper. She got fired from her show back in the day and is basically an example of a drug casualty.

If this is a true story – egads.

If not – she can’t ever unpull the trigger on this one.

What is someone’s motive for coming forward with this? Is she hoping her story can help others? Personal exorcism? To sell books? Christina Crawford just gave Mackenize the side-eye.

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Is She The Nanny?

September 22, 2009

surihighheels

I live in Boston. And this week every celebrity in creation is up in our city (Cameron Diaz, Sam Neil, U2, Snow Patrol, Ashley Judd, a large assortment of stars and bands), the city of Red Sox and dreams and cute boys and fucking street cleaning in which they tow your car if you forget to move it over to the other side of the street and it costs $112.35 and who has that just lying around when you’re an unemployed blogger (don’t ask about Celebitchy).

Psychosis aside, Tom Cruise, that sad sack he kidnapped from joy and a real life, and their optimistic against all odds child have been seen out and about on Newbury St. and jogging and such. Cruise reportedly yelled “Great city!” at a pap. A Facebook friend has been complaining that Top Bottom ruined his brunch plans when he took over a restaurant for him and the fam and peeps got shut out. Don’t get between a bear and brunch. Tom’s lucky he didn’t get tackled by a big gay with a jonesin’ for home fries and a mimosa in each paw. Though I’m guessing he’d be down with that action.

I see pics like this and I wonder if she knows just how much her state of mind is reflected in her clothing and demeanor. Jesus, this chick is sad. SAD. She loves her daughter (who totally came from some Romanian chick in an insane asylum bed cage, I’ve seen Orphan, I know what goes on) but she wants out and is wondering if she can risk it. Tom has the Church of Scientology on his side and they can hunt her ass down. Plus, she signed some sort of contract with Xenu in blood. The only reason Nicole Kidman escaped is because her porcelain face can deflect tapped phones, infrared photography, and thetan waves.

I am seriously offering to hide these two out. Especially since I sorta wanna try on Suri’s shoes. Come to Dorchester. The neighborhood only looks a little sketch, and we live right near the T. I think one night of cocktails at the Ashmont Grille could do Katie Holmes a world of good.

I’m not saying she has to gear herself up like Beyonce and glamour flash down the street. I’m just saying she shouldn’t look like she’s ready for a burqa and endless Valium sleep.

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