ï You can call me Ray, or you can call me Jay, or you can call me Ray J, or you can call me the penis in the Kim Kardashian sex tape, but ya doesn't hafta call me Whitney Houston's new boy toy. Oh wait, yes you do.
ï Friends think Britney is pregnant again because she is bloated, barfy, and "relaxed and happy". Sounds more like a few too many mangotinis to us.
ï Keith Urban is out of rehab and on the loose! Now he can get down to the important business of realizing he has nothing in common with his wife aside from Australianism. Divorcewatch begins now.
ï Mischakini.
ï Brad and Angelina rescue orphans from life-threateningly dangerous foreign countries only to move them to . . . life threateningly dangerous American cities.
ï The Beckhams are coming! The Beckhams are coming! And they're bringing nipples!
ï Keeley Hazell seems to have lost her dignity along with her garments.
ï There will be a formal inquest into the death of Anna Nicole's son, around the same time she will be forced to have her baby undergo a paternity test so we can find out if the father is her glassy-eyed money-grubbing lawyer/houseboy or the frosted-tipped money-grubbing paparazzo. And then she will find out that Larry Birkhead was her brother all along, and that she has a twin who faked her death, and that she actually has been suffering from amnesia this whole time, and is a Russian czarina!
ï Halle Berry gives herself a titty twister. Why? Shrug. Just cuz.
ï Paula Abdul explains away her recent Michael J. Foxish television appearances, and says she takes being a role model seriously. Too bad nobody else takes her seriously as a role model.
Thanks to X17online for the pic of Whitney and Ray J!
