TomKat’s wedding will be extra kitten-liscious come this weekend. Apparently part of a Scientology Wedding Ceremony includes “stroking a cat and muttering incantations.” Here is where you are free to insert your own “Meow/What’s New Pussycat?” joke because this is a bit more weirdness than my wit can handle.

Aw hell to the yizzle!  When you’re from the down ass hood of Malibu, you don’t follow nobody’s bullshit grammer rules or have a civilized meeting about your divorce, that ain’t gangsta. You gotsta be KEEPING IT REAL by scrawling hateful things on your hotel room shower door. Word is Bond.

I like how Maddox and Zahara already have mastered the jaded pissed off look of a celebrity ambushed by the media. If looks could kill, the paparazzi would be a puddle of blood and lenscaps.

a. Trying to reclaim some of that cute child star innocence by donning the costume from the musical number “On The Good Ship Lollipop” from the smash play GOTH KIDS DO IT BETTER.

b. Wearing a shirt that allows her to skip telling the doctor where it burns when she pees.

c. Eschewing foreplay altogether and diving straight down to the Nipplicious Main Event: A Firecrotch Seduction.

I told you it burns!

Baywatch Babe Pamela Anderson’s reps have confirmed that the actress did suffer a miscarriage while filming her latest movie BLONDE AND BLONDER.

This is such a shame because Pam is actually a pretty good mom, particularly by celebrity standards, here she is picking up her sons from school:

I never thought I’d be saying this, but good luck to Kid Rock as he tries to spread his seed.

Don’t you run up on me like I’m slandering that ho bag by saying she is abusive to the elderly and handicapped because IT’S TRUE. Peep this:

“American actress Denise Richards hit two elderly women, one believed to be wheelchair-bound, with a flying laptop during a scuffle with paparazzi over photos, police said.

Richards, who is in the Vancouver suburb of Richmond shooting the film “Blonde and Blonder” with Canadian-born Pamela Anderson, “took exception to the paparazzi who had approached them” late Wednesday, Corporal Peter Thiessen told AFP.

“A laptop belonging to a photographer was thrown over an interior second floor balcony overlooking the main lobby of the hotel and hit two elderly ladies, aged 80 and 91, in the arm,” he said.

“One was believed to be in a wheelchair. Both were sitting.”

Neither woman was seriously injured, he said.

The paparazzi called police to complain about the damaged computer, but no charges were laid. “We’re continuing to investigate,” Thiessen said.”

I guess tomorrow’s agenda will consist of kicking some nuns in the chest, followed by a cheerful sprinkling of arsenic into the Kool-Aid at the local preschool.

You too could head over to bid on the eBay listing of K-Fed’s Returned Check stamped Insufficient Funds!

Rumour has it the ex Mr. Spears will be suing for alimony, which cements him a spot next to Anna Nicole Smith in the Gold Digger Hall Of Shame. He needs that money more than ever, with 4 kids and two baby mommas he’ll be lucky if he ends up on a corner wearing a trench coat and sunglasses with a styrofoam Dunkin’ Donuts cup and a sign that says “Will Dance For Food”. Then we’ll all say “Isn’t that Kevin Federline?” as we call the 5-0 on his ass for rooting through the dumpsters behind Stuckey’s.

Do you get it? The Dirty Blonde tongue in methamphetamine ulcerated cheek? I don’t know why people are always talking about how she just rode on the plaid flannel coattails of Grunge with no real discernable talent of her own save making a pile of coke the size of a Swiss Alp disappear like she was David Copperfield. Nothing screams classy like elbow length gloves and a dress made from 101 Dalmatians topped off with some sexy granny glasses. I bet Spielberg is regretting not inviting Frances Bean to his son’s Bar Mitzvah. You take a dump naked at ONE pool party in front of 50 kindergarteners and suddenly EVERYONE blacklists you. Get over it, people.

Oh, glorious day! The House of Federline-Spears has collapsed now that Britney has filed for divorce from the man who makes Cletus from the Simpsons look like William F. Buckley, When White Trash Baby Daddy Captain K-Fed heard the news, he repeatedly punched the wall. It’s tough to lose your source of income, particularly when you are out shopping while your wife is putting the PopaZao on your golddigging ass. Big Ups to Brit for waging an all out campaign of exercise and Letterman appearance leading up to this monumental occasion.
If you need a sitter or a bikini inspection, B, you know where to find me. Stalking you in your front yard.

Neil Patrick Harris rolls deep it in that very select and exclusive organization of child stars who grew up to be normal alongside fellow member  Keisha Knight-Pulliam aka Rudy Huxtable l(she went to Columbia Law School).  No rails of cocaine at Hyde, no DUIs, court dates or parental abuse scandal. He’s still acting and recently took the brave step of coming out. Clay Aiken might want to take notes.
“The public eye has always been kind to me, and until recently I have been able to live a pretty normal life. Now it seems there is speculation and interest in my private life and relationships. So, rather than ignore those who choose to publish their opinions without actually talking to me, I am happy to dispel any rumors or misconceptions and am quite proud to say that I am a very content gay man living my life to the fullest and feel most fortunate to be working with wonderful people in the business I love.”

The picture above should have been a dead giveaway, all those times he was kissing Wanda he was secretly wishing it was the Italian Stallion Vinnie’s lips pressed against his.

I can see storming the stage over something politically important, like a Oscar snub for a classic masterpiece of cinema, but dude, check it. K to the Dubs was furious he didn’t win A FREAKING MTV EUROPE MUSIC AWARD. Oh, wait he did. Just not two.

Kanye West was so miffed at not winning the award for Best Video last night at the MTV Europe Music Awards that he stormed the stage and went on a bizarre, expletive-filled tirade to protest.

Even though he’d won the award for Best Hip-Hop Artist earlier in the evening, West jumped out of his seat in Copenhagen when Justice and Simian (no, we haven’t heard of them either) won the Best Video prize for “We Are Your Friends” and crashed the award presentation. He told the stunned audience that he should’ve won for his “Touch The Sky” because it “cost a million dollars, Pamela Anderson was in it, I was jumping across canyons.” And, he added, “If I don’t win, the awards show loses credibility.”

from TMZ.com

Since when did MTV Europe have mad street cred to maintain? Just because you deck yourself out like Evel Knieval with a aging silicone laden thing(I don’t even think of Pammykins as a person with all that hot mess she’s got going on)does not give you automatic dibs in the prize. Don’t be jealous because Justica and Simian beat your Chocolate Monkey ass like you were a runaway slave. Go get some Courvosier(I know how you people love it!)and go have sex with a big titted white girl whose retirement plan consists of poking holes into condoms of rappers and NFL players.

OK, so if LiLo’s pretending to be man who is supposed to be pretending to be a woman, that makes her a total dick smuggler. It’s biology AND logic, people. I am sorry to say that Tim Curry worked that outfit with far more panache than Lindsay will ever have in her entire herpes riddled existence.

Nicole Richie has checked herself out the $80,000 a MONTH recovery center Beau Monde after a mere 72 hours in the pokey. Her reason? She wanted to go shopping in an outfit that makes her look like a 70’s reject sporting some shades from the Peggy “My Husband Sells Propane And Propane Accessories” Hill Collection while carrying last year’s Balanciaga. Duh.

The staffers at Beau Monde begged her to stay, reports the tab, which quotes a source as saying, “Nicole is in complete denial and oblivious to how sick she really is.”
I enjoy a little retail therapy from time to time myself but then again, I’m not in the process of transforming myself into a hideous stick insect. Hasn’t she ever heard of eBay? She could have chillaxed in her room and a laptop instead of fainting all over town.

Part of me really wants to believe that Lindsay and Paris are cleverly cashing in on the most auspicious occasion of Sugar Whoredom providing a chance for outfitting yourself in candy coated irony. It’s the same part of me that dresses up like a leprechaun and tells me to burn things. Leave it to Firecrotch and Lazy Eye to miss the point entirely by eschewing costumes for everyday attire.

Stick this in your Crikey Hole, Bill Maher. Dressing up like dead Steve Irwin with a stingray is a great idea. FOR THE FUTURE. Time+Tragedy=Comedy, but come on, dude! I am guessing your smugness wipes out any sort of empathy for a wife and family missing a father who isn’t even cold on the ground yet because nothing boosts a pathetic old man’s ratings with the young people like an incredibly offensive Halloween costume.

Yet there she was with Team Firecrotch Captain Brandon Davis, utterly bewildered as to
the whereabouts of her silver Range Rover.

It gets even better, particularly for those of us who are driving around with duct tape holding on the driver side rear view mirror on their dented Toyota Camry.

“This past weekend Paris was leaving her home with her usual entourage, including publicist Elliot Mintz, when she noticed the dome light on her Mercedes SLR was on. Being the concerned car owner that she is, Paris screamed for someone to bring out her the key to her SLR. After losing her patience, and realizing that if you want the job done right you have to do it yourself, Ms. Hilton went to grab the keys herself. Unfortunately the keys she returned with were for her Bentley. Darn European car makers and their similarly designed keys. Lucky for Paris and the SLR, the dome light goes out on its own and the group piles into designated driver Elliott Mintz’s car. “

From TMZ.com

Awesome. That’s all I needed to know so if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get a hose to siphon gas from a stranger’s car in the parking lot of The Piggley-Wiggley.

I’m actually kind of bummed about this split, mainly because I like the two of them. You don’t see Reese at flashing her panties at Hyde, or Ryan boozing it up with like, Kevin Federline. They seemed so normal, dedicated to their children and careers instead of partying and such. Best of luck to them both, they need it more than ever with the tabs watching their every post matrimonial move.

I’ll give you one guess as to what Snoop was arrested for this past week at Bob Hope Airport and before you even think it, go ahead and rule out an international conspiracy to take over the world’s supply of knitting patterns. Still stumped? Marijuana and gun possession. I know! I had no clue he even did any of that shit. Big Ups to Mr. Dogg for managing to still look Fashion in a Ed Hardy Skull tee that seemed to go perfectly with handcuffs.

Oh, darling, there there! Don’t cry! Is it because now that The O.C. killed off Marissa Cooper nobody even recognizes you, let alone takes any pictures of you at the Teen Choice Awards? Look on the bright side here, Misch. There’s always porn.

Oh, I get it now. This is about a boy, isn’t it? I’d be crying too if my boyfriend looked like a 70’s reject rockstar to say nothing of the fact that his band’s album “Luv Machine” topped the charts with a whopping 812 copies sold in the first month of release. Nicole Richie ain’t calling you back because nobody wants to hold court at Hyde with a guy who looks like he lives in a dumpster and probably smells even worse.

Lil’ Jon called, he wants his look back. You can keep the platinum grill, though.