We're beginning to think that Lindsay Lohan is terribly naive and doesn't understand simple, straightforward insults. To Lindsay being called Firecrotch means that she possesses a fiery love in her loins that she wishes to spread to all the world's inhabitants (or at least the hot ones with trust funds). And Paris Hilton calling Lindsay a "coked-out whore" just means that she's really popular and full of energy and Paris really likes her. "Coked-out whore" is the new BFF, as in, "This is my coked-out whore, Lindsay Lohan."  

Yesterday Lindsay Lohan was all like, "Paris hit me. She's such a bitch." Today she's all like, "Paris is my best friend. Why is everyone spreading these lies about us?" And tomorrow she'll be all like, "Paris Hilton is half donkey. And that's not a metaphor or whatever. Her real dad is a donkey. But I still love her."  

Paris might be busy using Britney Spears as a hotness inflator, but it seems that she still has enough time to tilt her magnifying glass of evil towards the hapless ant that is Lindsay Lohan, cackling as she sizzles under the sun's death ray. Apparently, Paris must have really enjoyed the taste of blood she got from her alleged Shanna Moakler fisticuffs, and has gotten a little punchy with our poor, beleaguered Firecrotch.  

Before yesterday's "GQ Obsession" post, we went for six cold, long, and empty days with nary a mention of The Lohan. What was she doing for those six days? Needlepoint? Dawson's Creek marathon? Diana Ross's son? As it turns out, she might have been CUTTING. Or maybe "cunting" would be more appropriate. After the cu(n)t, scars and more fiery crotch!  

GQ must've felt a little bad for old gal Lindsay Lohan. All the other starlets snapped up every other magazine's superlatives--ScarJo was named Esquire's Sexiest Woman, Jessica Alba nabbed the title of Most Kissable, and Beyoncé has the Best Booty. So the good folks at GQ created "Obsession of the Year" just for Lindsay, which is kind of akin to winning the "Positive Mental Attitude" award at cheerleading camp after "Prettiest Legs" and "Whitest Smile" have already been doled out.  

The night before last, in front of God and paparazzi and a doorman and everyone, Lindsay Lohan called Paris Hilton THE C-WORD. Oh, and furthermore, speaking of c-words, Lindsay's multitudinous beaux must be having a problem finding hers--although by this point we've all seen it so often that our three-year-old cousin can draw it from memory--because she's now taken to donning a map to the treasure:
 

• Elle Macpherson's still got it! Believe the hype, feel the magic, catch the wave, etc., etc.

• Anna Nicole sold the video of her C-section to Entertainment Tonight for $1 million. OK, so for those who like to keep count: she sold the last pictures of her with her son, she sold the pictures of her "commitment ceremony" to lawyer/barnacle Howard K. Stern, she sold the (incredibly bloody and brutal) video of her baby's birth. Next on the auction block: the baby.

• Moby hopes that if and when he has children, they will turn out gay. Gay children everywhere are hoping that if and when they are sired, it won't be to Moby.

• Ryan Phillippe says, in regards to rumors that he cheated on Reese Witherspoon, “I’m not a perfect person, but I’m not guilty of a lot of the things I have been accused of.” He's not guilty of a lot of those things. Just a bunch of them. A passel, if you will.

• Lindsay Lohan has been rear-ended. Has she ever!

• Sienna Miller gets revenge on Pittsburgh by showing her boobs. That'll learn 'em.

• Jordan (sweet, sweet Jordan) says that husband Peter Andre's past as a schtupper of tramps makes her sick. Apparently, she feels fine about him being a present schtupper of one tramp.

• Jessica Simpson makes with the cleavage; jazz hands.

 

Lindsay Lohan has a new boyfriend. He is the son of Diana Ross. Thus continues Lindsay's neverending habit of making very very bad decisions--the possibilty of having Diana Ross become your mother-in-law is barely a half a step above marrying into the Collins or Gabor families.  

Is Lindsay Lohan simply over-the-moon at not having one vodka-and-red-bull or dipping into her emergency vial in a whopping ninety days, or is she just fucking with us? We may never know, unless she starts sporting a second chip that proclaims "Ninety Days Celibate." Then we'll definitely know she's fucking with us.  

• Is Australian actress Abbie Cornish the real reason behind the Reese/Ryan breakup? That would mark the second time Ryan's fallen for a blonde with an incredibly silly last name. At least he's consistent.

• Sumner Redstone says that he dropped Tom Cruise's contract because his wife, Paula, "like women everywhere, had come to hate him." Ouch, and hahahahaha.

• Cindy Margolis is in Playboy. And her bod makes us hum Bob Seger's "Like a Rock".

• The drummer for McFly (who?) has been bragging to anyone who'll listen that he has felt the gently licking flames of Lohan's firecrotch. Yeeeeah, that's like bragging that you ate food once, or that you sometimes blink.

• Step aside, Brangelina! Take a hike, Bennifer! Let's all give a warm welcome to . . . Tophvanka Grump!

• If there's anything U.S. Marines hate, it's being in the presence of a large-breasted, blonde, ultra-famous porn star.

• Katie Holmes recently ran into Brooke Shields and stopped to chat. Afterwards, her handler best friend ever threw a burlap sack over her head, threw her in the back of a Brinks security van, drove her to a secluded location 4 miles beneath the earth's crust, and subjected her to 72 straight hours of deprogramming and delousing.

• Heidi Klum: finally, a celebrity who ain't afraid to get a little scary for the sake of Halloween. Nicely done.

• Patrick Dempsey's ex-wife, whom he married when he was 21 and she was the 48-year-old stepmother of his best friend, is alleging that he beat her during the filming of Can't Buy Me Love. Hey, these actors are tempestuous, artistic types and often have trouble bringing their work home with them at the end of the day. Can you really blame Dempsey for feeling violent when he spent day in and day out in character as a brutal, sexist killer with a hair-trigger temper. Wait, what? Can't Buy Me Love was about a mild-mannered nerd on a riding lawnmower? Oh.  

There's a reason Lindsay Lohan has to stay out all night partying: When she leaves she's followed and harassed by paparazzi, and sometimes they even try to run her car off the road like she's Marissa Cooper or something. It's just safer inside Hyde.  

You might have some vague post-graduate goals floating around in your head. Buy a condo before the market collapses, write that novel in the next five years, pay off all student loans before 40. But 20-year-old Lindsay Lohan has it all planned out, people. She's giving herself a ten-year window to accomplish pretty much every ambition normal people give themselves a lifetime to achieve. In the new issue of In Style, she says,

"I want to get married before I'm 30. And have my house. And make the kind of record I want. And I'd like to win an Oscar before then."

Lindsay really reminds us of us. In kindergarten. When we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, we said a fireman, a cowboy, a fashion designer, a princess, a farmer, a ninja, and Skeletor. But unlike Lindsay Lohan, we've actually already accomplished our goals.  

While she does have an air of "heavy flow" about her, we would have pegged Lindsay Lohan for more of the o.b. tampon type than the super maxi type:



OK, so we've all seen Lindsay's genitalia, so we know she's not packing extraneous testicles nor rolled-up meatflaps. So there's really only one explanation for her tights-tumor: that's where she hides her stash!  

Oh, Lindsay. You still have a lot to learn about "cause and effect". Although you now seem to grasp the whole "no panties plus skirt equals visible poonage" concept, you haven't quite nailed the "wear a Pamela Anderson-esque top, slip mad nip" thing yet.



Unblurred sweater pebbles under the cut? Oh yes. Oh, yes.  

• Andy Dick chalks up the fact that people call him gay to everyone being jealous of him, and not him having sex with men.

• Kate Beckinsale says she'll never get plastic surgery. Despite the fact that her boobs were named the Ugliest in Hollywood.

• Madonna probably adopted a baby, for real this time, though. Toting around an African baby is the new Birkin bag!

• George Clooney says he'll never run for president because he's boffed too many ladies. Insert Clinton joke here, please.

• Amber Tamblyn's nip is Tumblyn out of her dress.

• Et tu, Rose McGowan?

• Finally, Johnny Depp to make an honest woman out of Vanessa Paradis! Hopefully she'll be able to get on his dental plan now.

• Lindsay Lohan says, "It's up to me and my mom to decide if I am partying too much." Ah, yes, nothing like that tender moment between mother and daughter, when Mom gently strokes Daughter's hair and says, "Beer BEFORE liquor, sweetheart. And coke before ecstasy. And Red Bull before semen."

• Dr. McDreamy gets McCreamed by McCastmate. We promise that's the only time you'll ever have to read the name "McDreamy" on these pages.

 

Despite denials from Lindsay Lohan's camp, Harry Morton has admitted that they are officially finished as a couple. Oh, sure, Harry, nab the most famous young lady in America, get tons of publicity for your Pink Taco restaurant chain after you toss all of her panties in the incinerator, thereby forcing her to flash her own pink taco, then drop her. It's the oldest trick in the book.  

Did Lindsay Lohan and Harry Morton really break up? Was Linds really seen making out with our long lost favorite, Stamos Nachos? If someone took a picture of one of Lindsay's turds would we post it and call it newsworthy? And the answers are: maybe maybe not, possibly, and most definitely yes.  

We'd like to add a little variety to Titty Friday, and also, going one day without mentioning Lindsay Lohan is, frankly, unAmerican. And goddammit, we love this country, so we'd like to direct you to this video featuring Lohan outside of The Lot, doing a series of high kicks:



At first we thought it was an exercise routine designed to get Lohan's oft-pantyless labia into great shape for their next flashing, then we took a closer look. The pissed-off look in her eye, the fact that she's alone in the dark, defiantly smoking a cigarette, dancing to express her inner rage . . . she is simply reenacting Kevin Bacon's solo factory dance scene from Footloose:

 

• Janet Jackson says that her sex life was great when she was fat, and that her Ewok lover Jermaine Dupri would "grab me, pull me around the stomach, look me in the eyes and say, 'This needs love too!'" And then he'd gently insert his penis into her stomach folds.

• Britney Spears reportedly had a tummy tuck following the birth of SPFsquared. Slowly inching closer and closer to Tara Reid territory (Taratory?).

• Little Aaron Carter is engaged! To a Playboy Playmate! Presumeably, his pneumatic bride-to-be has seen AARON CARTER SHIRTLESS.

• Safely ogle Kelly Brook in her underwear from the comfort of your own home, free from fear of retaliation at the hands of your friend Billy Zane.

• Lindsay Lohan is looking to move to England, most likely because the English are the only people who can drink her under the table.

• Jackass Steve-O tells us, in great detail, about the time he masturbated onto Nicole Richie's back. And then her semi-exposed spinal column recognized the protein content of the expelled liquid and, revolted at the idea of nourishment, quickly whipped the offending substance away from Richie's person.

• Courtney Love and Whitney Houston: not only are they recovering substance abusers, they both have names that end in -tney! BFFs!

• Paris takes advantage of Lindsay Lohan's absence; flirts with Harry Morton. When the exposed pussy lips are away, the skank will play.

• Asia Argento turns 31 today, and celebrates by picking G-string bikini bottoms out of her anus. Mazel tov!  

Your weekend: clearing the dog BM from your yard, a quiet housewarming party in the suburbs, washing the car, a little light cleaning.

Lindsay Lohan's weekend: cussing out her drunk, coked-up mother in public, dodging flying cookies, a trip to the ER.

Advantage: Lohan.  

Lindsay Lohan is one busy beaver lately, and we're not just talking about all that gash she's been flashing. Today must be official Lindsay saturation day, as she's coming at us from all sides. She's secretly married! No, she and Harry are broken up! She finally wears panties! But she forgets her pants! And Jane Fonda wants to cradle Lindsay in her nurturing bosom until Lindsay can learn to be a freakin' grown-up already.  

We . . . just . . . ugh. Guh. Duh? . . . guh. We don't know. Words fail. The only thing we can think, the one sentence forming in the recesses of our feeble minds and repeating, over and over, like a mantra, is "put it away, Lohan. Put it away, Lohan." Seriously, Lohan. Please. Put it away.

After the cut, Lindsay honors the memory of those lost in 9/11 . . . with her peebug!  

Sigh.



When your gleaming, freshly-waxed genitals are captured in brilliant, full color for all the world to see, a vaguely sheer top seems about as titillating as a pair of stirrup pants and an "I Love My Corgi" cross stitched sweatshirt.  

Lindsay Lohan had her Birkin bag, stuffed full of precious jewels and special nasally-administered pharmaceuticals (her asthma meds, fool!) filched from her cart at Heathrow Airport yesterday afternoon.



Ooooh, are those tears, Lindy? Huh? You feelin' real bad, there? Feelin' sad that your fancy, $3,000 handbag crammed with sparkly girly stuff was snatched from right under your nose? That's right, cry! Cry, little baby! Go 'head and cry for us! Waaah! Waaaah! Waaah! Why you hittin' yourself? Why you hittin' yourself, Lohan? Stop hittin' yourself!  

And in the non-sporting category, we have a new breed this year--the toy Lohanterrier with her handlers, Christian Slater and Emilio Estevez of Los Angeles, California. Excellent form . . . notice the alertness in the eyes, the long, straight back, and the fullness in the chest. Really impressive. The spotting along the body is uniform and even, and that's what the judges like to look for--that nice speckling, and this is a really great example. The coat looks good, shiny and dark . . . usually a reddish or chestnut coat is typical of this breed, so the darker hue is a bit of a surprise, but still not rare. What really makes this dog stand out is the gait, though. Watch and you'll see the fanning of the fur at the bottom . . . it's really dramatic and makes the animal look as if it's almost floating above the ground. Really, an excellent showing from the Lohanterrier, and a strong contender for the win!  

Our lives are over, innocence has been lost, God is dead, etc., etc. Why, you ask?

Brandon Davis lied to us.



He was right about her being covered in freckles. He was right about the fact that we would not engage in sexual relations with her mother. Heck, he might even be right in his assertion that she's poor; we dunno her spending habits. But yesterday, after a cool breeze off the Venetian canals gently lifted the billowy fabric of her green dress, we learned once and for all that Lindsay Lohan is not a Firecrotch.  

• "Eva Longoria Loves Facials". Yep, that sounds about right.

• My Gwen Stefani doll can beat up your Peaches N' Cream Barbie.

• Still no word on whether or not Lohan is engaged to Harry "Pink Taco" Morton, but she's sporting an '80s-style pear-cut diamond that Alexis Carrington herself would find distasteful.

• Kelly Clarkson was embarrassed to learn that she owned the same pink convertible as a porn star. The fact that she actually owns a pink convertible is much more embarrassing, however.

• Brittany Murphy exits club, gets propositioned for some tuna taco tangoing, signs autographs, lets us look down her shirt. Now that's multitasking.

• Eva Mendes's bare ass in Flaunt magazine. You heard us. That's right. Believe it. Flaunt magazine! Seriously!

• Kate Bosworth and Orlando Bloom broke up. Again. If a walking Chupa Chups lollipop and a crustachioed eunuch can't make it work, what hope is there for the rest of us?

• An idea we wish we'd thought of: Gossip Blog Wars.

• Kate Moss + underwear = server crash. Way to get your kit off, bird! Pip pip! Tut tut! Tally ho! Cheerio!  

The shimmering, carefree days of summer have drawn to a close, the three-day weekend has reached its end, we all have profound hangovers and the Crocodile Hunter is dead. Just when we thought things couldn't sink any lower or get any bleaker, along comes stupid Harry Morton and his stupid shiny teeth and his stupid stupid fat wallet and his stupid grabby hands to gently dig a deeper nadir and smilingly nudge us into it. To wit:



Hey, jerk. Thanks for reminding us that we'll never be allowed to lay our paws on the smooshy bits attached to Lohan. Unless we somehow manage to get adopted by a billionaire entrepeneur willing to finance our foray into the lucrative world of vagina-themed Mexican eateries as well as our new veneers. Which might be soon, if that sweet Craigslist ad we just placed pans out.  

Rumor has it that Hard Rock Cafe/Pink Taco crown prince Harry Morton recently visited Cartier to purchase an engagement ring for his oft-intoxicated inamorata, Lindsay Lohan.



Forgoing getting down on one knee and placing the ring on her trembling, outstretched finger, or the ever popular "surprising your best gal with a ring in a champagne glass," Harry instead chose to hide the bauble inside his love's rectum. Forget skywriting--nothing says "Will you marry me?" like a ring up the kazoo!  

We've got to keep up with the Johnsons and the Smiths and the Egotastics and the Idontlikeyouinthatways, so we're introducing a new feature. At the end of each month, we'll be your bloggy Rick Dees and will count down the top five search phrases (not including "CelebNewsWire" and its variants) people use to get to this site. There aren't a lot of surprises here, aside from the fact that "fergie pee" has finally slipped out of the top ten, and that one person (hi, Dad!) found us by searching for "Jessica Simpson hanging labia".