When you woke up this morning you thought to yourself, "Gee, I really wish I knew what the sexual habits of celebrities were." (And frankly we're proud of you for managing to keep your sick-ass perversions in check this morning. Not like yesterday when your first thought upon waking involved Liza Minnelli getting fucked in the ass with a parsnip. Seriously, dude, get some help.) You're in luck, my friend, as today we can bring you news of the sexual stylings of Drew Barrymore and Reese Witherspoon. With their respective men. Not with each other. Sorry to get your hopes up there.
We bet you thought that after the Golden Globes celebrities skitted from after-party to after-party, eating the equivalent of an entire meal for the first time in three months, downing bottle after bottle of three-hundred-dollar champagne until their publicists covered their heads in a cashmere travel blanket, tucked them into the back of a limo, and sent them home to vomit the majority of their calories into their Italian porcelain toilets. Not when your wife has just won her first Best Actress award. Reese Witherspoon's house hubby, Ryan Phillippe, told USA Today,
"How will we celebrate at home? With hot and heavy lovemaking."
Hot and heavy lovemaking. That made us almost as sick as when Star Jones said that FOD Al Reynolds had "the legs of a stallion."
And on to the sexy part of our evening; Drew Barrymore likes the sound of pee mixed in with her "hot and heavy lovemaking." Drew's hipster boyfriend, Strokes drummer Fabrizio Moretti, told Jane magazine,
ìI had sex in the bathroom at the opera a little while ago, in New York. We went to ëLa Bohemeí and it was wicked boring. So we decided to go to the bathroom, and we got caught, and it was embarrassing. If weíd gone to the menís room, people wouldíve heard it and said, ëGood on you, man.í But we were in the ladiesí room, and when we heard an old woman start to tinkle, we couldnít help but crack up. I guess she told the security guy – he came in and was, like, ëJust go.í "
We're guessing the last time you were at a "wicked boring" opera, your girlfriend (or that Bloomingdale's mannequin you outfitted in your mom's old Lane Bryant dress) wouldn't pop one off with you in a urine-soaked bathroom stall.
That Fab's a lucky guy. See why at MrSkin.com.
Ryan doesn't have it half bad either.
And speaking of Ryan, he's at MaleStars.com.
