Archive for the "Old" Category

2 funny old men lawn mower fail part 1

 

RE: Tulisa sex tape..

 

Joan Rivers Hates Newt Gingrich

Joan Rivers is one of the most annoying ladies on earth. She is extremely old and she still seems to think that she is funny, why? We’re not sure. Anyway, she went off on a little rant about Newt Gingrich recently and well…it kind of fell flat. Which is extremely sad because there is SO much to make fun of.

Joan said the following…

“Newt can never be president. Just the thought of him naked, gross! I don’t care about what Newt thinks — what is he going to do to me? He can go f**k himself.”

…what? She does realize that no one is waiting in line to see her old ass naked either, right? If you’re going to attack a politician, at least attack their positions — and trust me Newt takes a lot of attack-worthy positions.

However, if you really want to go personal with the attacks, then at least make fun of his scary ass wife. Have you seen that woman? She is so freaking creepy! Just look at the picture below…

Joan Rivers Hates Newt Gingrich Joan Rivers Hates Newt Gingrich Joan Rivers Hates Newt Gingrich
 

Wednesday’s Miscalleneous Junk You Might Like (11.02.2011)

“Y’all want me to show you how to break a neck with my thighs? Dang, i just sharted on Joe Jonas!”

Kris Humphries licking his post-divorce wounds by hosting a late-night party in Vegas, er, I’m guessing topless?

Demi Moore and Melanie Griffith need to get together and share a potato chip because they’re getting too scary to look at.

Gerard Butler has also lost a lot of weight. Must be the strictly no-vagina-for-a-month diet.

At least Coco and her braless ta-tas know how to eat. It’s more or less a 12-plate affair.

Who wants to see Sofia Vergara bend down to pick g-strings?

Heidi Klum gave her second costume ape nipples. And forced Seal to dress up like a monkey. Let me remind you, she’s a blue-eyed German and he’s black. Mel Gibson says he wants to bed her.

Miranda Kerr knows how to walk the streets of Manhattan.

Blake Lively getting carried around by shoe maker Louboutin.

David Hasselhoff wants to make a quick stop for a burger with onion rings.

And a couple of Angels spraying perfume in heaven.

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Goldie Hawn is ruining bicycling for me

Here’s 65-year old Goldie Hawn riding her bike in L.A yesterday, and man are those some old lady knees. And arms. And cleavage. And face. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate and less offensive to my 20/20 vision if she was in a wheelchair yelling “Damn it Russell!! I told you i can’t chew this chicken soup without my dentures!”? Anyway, just think of this as Kate Hudson in about 33 years or so. That is if she managed in the interim to acquire breasts and find commitment, love, and dedication from a single man. Pff, who I’m I kidding? Let’s just scratch the last two and let’s just go with the boatload of wrinkles and sun damage.

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Garey Busey looks amazing. Oh, wait, it’s Sharon Stone.

Sharon Stone arrived at L.A.X last night looking like hell, and I get it that Basic Instinct was made in the early 1900′s but come on, when people start mistaking you for Dennis Leary, it’s time to do something about it. Now I’m not advocating plastic surgery here because that would be insensitive, just a subtle head transplant. Or at the very least a brown paper bag with a couple of holes in it?

PS: We’ve included a few pics of Sharon from Paris Match from 2009, back when NASA-grade photo-shop still worked on her. Because we’re all about empowering women to age gracefully here.

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Melanie Griffith looks fantastic for an old guy in a wig

Here’s 54-year old Melanie Griffith at the Best In Drag Show in L.A last night (no joke, that’s an actual event), to which she was invited because I’m assuming she makes for one fine dude in an Axel Rose hair piece? And my “fine” i mean its the kind of beauty that can only be enhanced if a horse kicked you right in the face and left a shit-covered imprint on it. And you know what’s funnier than Melanie Griffith’s face melting faster than cheese in a microwave? The fact that Kathy Griffith and Lisa Rina were also invited to this thing. These event organizers have a great sense of humor.

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Cindy Crawford takes her pokies to The Red Square

Cindy Crawford took to the cobbled streets of the Red Square in Moscow, Russia, yesterday, obviously to peddle her organic, fair-trade and fairy-dust filled cosmetics to the Russian comrades who were more busy staring at her frozen nipples. We tried to do the same, since, well, we love pokies and their plight to fight through garments, but damn it, why did she have to show us her Shar-Pei knees? And just in case you missed them, we produced a close-up for you. Demi Moore, you have time and booze on your hands now, so show her how it’s done, baby.

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Jason Biggs and his wife hired a prostitute for his birthday

Jason Biggs apparently did not only get married to the weird, freaky little chick in American Pie, he did so in real life as well. Jenny Mollen, who is obviously an exhibitionist, wrote a very lengthy article on TheSmokingJacket (owned by Playboy) about how she hired a whore for her husband’s birthday to spice up their marriage (back then they were married for only a year) and went on to describe the details of the tryst, including the prostitute having sex with Biggs and giving her compliments on her blow job skills. She then wrote how the experience enriched their relationship and helped them stay together. Perfect wife so far you say? Sure, only this one also likes to tweet that she dreams about her husband getting cholera and that a black penis comes in to save her.

Here’s a few excerpts from her article:

So my husband and I got a whore. I’m hoping, unless you’re some sick depraved dissolute of a person, this isn’t the kind of thing you hear everyday. If it is, fuck you, I thought it was pretty gangster. So, ok, where do I begin? I wanted to do something special for his birthday, isn’t that how all these stories start? We were married for just over a year, and in Gemini years, that’s like twelve.

The adventure started when I called up my asshole friend, Chelsea and asked if she knew any “massage therapists”. Chelsea insisted that this chick would come over and with the proper amount of alcohol, do whatever we wanted.

That night, I made the arrangements. I set the mood, turned on some Enigma, and poured champagne. My husband, however, paced around the house like a lunatic, wondering if he was going to get arrested for having a hooker visit our home. The girl arrived at the proper whoring hour of 9pm. I answered the door in a see-through bra and undies. I led her upstairs to my bedroom where she set up her massage table. About thirty minutes in, I started to realize something was wrong. This girl wasn’t a prostitute!! This girl was a legit massage therapist! Fucking Chelsea set me up. The entire hour she wouldn’t shut up about my rotator cuff and various bulging discs.

…As we scurried out of possibly the saddest airport on Earth, I honed in on a photo of a thin brunette with elbows for boobs and made the call. “Hello?” A cutesy voice chimed in instantly.

“Hi, um, Ava?”, I stuttered. Come on Jenny, pull your shit together, you are a bad ass renegade on the run.

“Yeah, well, my husband and I are in town tonight and we were wondering if you (we?) could get together”, I coughed out.

“Sure, what time were you guys thinking?“ she said plainly. Dude, this girl is a hooker right? I mean, she realizes that I am talking about sex acts? Her tone made me feel like I was hiring a fucking babysitter!

“Why are you not weirded out by what a freak I am?“ I thought silently.

“How about, four?” I said. I am a total loser!

Who calls a whore when it is still light out? Better question, who wants a whore coming to their room when they are stone sober and on their way to a family birthday party? I’ll tell you who bitches, me the renegade, that’s who!

“Sounds good. Why don’t you call me when you get to your hotel, give me the room number and I’ll be there.”

“Done”, I cooed and hung up.

We checked into the Four Seasons under the name Drew Peacock.

Before I could answer the question, there was a knock on the door. My husband opened it to reveal a no more than three foot tall Filipino chomping gum and twirling her hair.

“Eva?” he exclaimed. “Hi, guys.” she purred as she walked over to a chair and sat down.

I was a bit taken aback. This girl looked nothing like her photos online. In fact, to me, she kind of resembled one of those little island pygmies from Gulliver’s Travels. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work out.

“Why is everybody so giggly?” she went on.

I really only had one way of answering this which was, “Well, because you are a hooker and you are in our hotel room.”

“Oh, and you didn’t mention that you were a gartenswerk in your profile.” I decided against saying anything. Further laughter ensued until finally my husband said, “So, should we talk business?”

I took this to mean that he was willing to look past the munchkin factor and proceed as planned. Eva asked for three hundred dollars just to talk shop. She explained that it would just cover her bills and her “door fee.” Bullshit the kind of party we were going to have was up to us. In other words, hinged on how much more cash we were willing to fork over.

“Why is Bilbo Baggins being such a sheisty little bastard?” I thought.

Frustrated, my husband handed over the money and bluntly said, “OK. What can you do for three hundred more?”

Eva, laughed and asked us to hold as she called her fucking nail lady and told her she was going to have to push her appointment back an hour. We just sat there as she described what was going on with her acrylic and how she needed her fill a week sooner than usual. Once she hung up, my husband notified me that he was going to have to run down to the ATM for more cash.

My husband burst back into the room just before she asked me to start spinning the bed sheets into gold. He was out of breath and Eva talked over him.

“Ok, so, I will go down on him, and you can sit on his face, ok?” she declared.

I was jarred by how fast she got down to business when the money was near. She was like a shark circling its prey.

“Um…ok.” I gulped.

As she started to pull her rip-away outfit off, my husband stopped her.

“You guys, stop, this isn’t going to happen!” he stated. “I went down to the ATM and I couldn’t get anymore money out!” he said frankly. The shark looked angry.

“Do you accept cashier’s checks, I offered?

“No.”, said Eva, putting her top back on.

It was now five o’clock. An entire hour past and we accomplished nothing. Eva got back on her cell and made another call.

“Yeah, they can’t get anymore money. Just pull around front. I’m coming down,” she said, to who I assume was her pimp on the other end of the line.

…I was able to convince my husband to stay another night by promising we could spend the next day lounging by the pool and sipping mai tais. My ulterior motive of course being, “operation: finish what I started.” I told him that in exchange we were calling his host friend who works in the casinos and having him send us the most professional call girl he knows. He obliged and within thirty minutes our phone was bombed with photos of the “merchandise.” Aside from feeling like a dirty old man, I felt accomplished. “Finally, a professional” I declared. My husband stared at me like I was a small Larry Flynt. We texted Keisha, (hooker # 2) that we would love to meet up sometime tomorrow.

The chick was wearing five-inch heels and had tits that seriously could have knocked anybody under six feet tall unconscious. There was no way she was passing for anything other than maybe Barbarella. In other words, she was hot. I took my cues from the previous day’s disaster and cut to the chase.

“We want you to go down on him for six hundred bucks,” I proclaimed. Keisha, being the professional that she was, didn’t bat an eye.

“Great,” she said plainly. In that instant I realized, I love this whore. First, she informed us that she wasn’t into girls and that if I wanted any action it would only be coming from my husband. I was fine with this at the time, but in retrospect, what the fuck? For six hundred bucks, I’ll be telling you what you’re into! She walked us through all the potential upsets: Wife gets hurt and wants to stop, husband can’t get erect; wife and husband can’t focus because they are too aware of the other’s emotions etc. I felt like I was in driver’s ed. and I loved it! This is exactly the type of information I wanted to be armed with. My husband, however, didn’t have the same reaction. With sweaty palms, clearly a bi -product of all the newly discovered potential for failure, he undressed and sat on the bed. Keisha instructed me to do the same.

“Do you want to go down on him a bit?” Keisha suggested. In my mind I was thinking, “No, dude, that’s why I paid you the six hundred dollars, to do the work for me! I’m going to be over here eating chips.” Of course, there was no way my husband was going to let me get away with that so I obliged.

The most exciting part of the day was Keisha complimenting me on my blowjob skills. I love approval of any kind. Sadly, however, I think it was pretty obvious that my husband and I were both bored. He quickly became flaccid and we were left with nothing to do but stare at each other.

“I kind of feel like you are a giant baby and we are putting a diaper on you,” I blurted out.

“Umm, that’s not what I wanted to hear, Jen.” my husband laughed.

…On the plane ride home I texted Keisha and thanked her for her work. What ever it was she had done, worked. I was instantly more aroused by my husband. He seemed so mysterious to me. Even though the actual act was relatively boring and a financial bust, the reliving of it grew hotter and hotter in my mind. “What a sweet whore,” I said to my husband, staring down at the flickering lights of good ole Sin City. He laughed and grabbed my leg. Something was rekindled between us. Or perhaps something blossomed that was never there before. I don’t know which it was, but I felt closer.

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Maria Schriver’s top is see-through, but seriously is anyone looking at her chest?

Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger agreed to put their differences aside and celebrate their 14 year old son’s birthday last night which was the reason this unfortunate incident took place. Listen, we like pokies and see-through tops as much as any lonely freak, but this is where we draw the line. Gollum and tits are the material of nightmares and pee-stained beds. Which is why we just drew a helmet on the copy we just printed. There, now it’s all better.

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Rod Stewart: Do ya think i’m sexy?

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Here’s Rod Stewart looking like his mole and his nose will touch each other one if these days, feel the chemistry, fall in love and get married with his double (or triple, it’s up for debate) chin serving as best man and maid of honor . Rod, being 64 and all and not being able to help himself from looking like an old pervert was playing with his 3-year old son alongside hot and way younger wife Penny Lancaster at a park in Beverly Hills. And because no one does aging-star mocking like the British tabloids, this is what they compared him with:Worzel Gummidge the Scarecrow (70’s character)…and we thought we were nasty…

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