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Celebrity VIP Lounge

Celebrity Gossip Heard All Over The Web

Save a Heaux: An Open Letter to Miley Cyrus

Dear Miley,

You know…

We’re all for letting a ho have her day, but YEARS, Miley?

And you’re barely legal?!

Put on some clothes before your nether-region catches a cold!

This visual and aural f*ckery must cease P R O N T O!

What are you trying to prove? We get it. You’re HOT! Scorchin’! A damn lava pit!
Now now…

Cover your camel toe!

You have a new album out soon, you may be single again already and now it’s time to be a nice young demure lady for  half a minute before you lose all your fans. Sure, we know how this story ends. Britney is still unfresh in our minds as one of the last poptrix America skanked out that soon tanked out. Do you want to end up like Britney? Because trust us, Miss Miley…

your head is far too large to be bald.

Help US….help ba7569c5-0dd4-4148-ad3b-8f6d644eb541_miley-cyrus-mankini-album-artwork-nearly-naked!

That is all.

Save a Heaux: An Open Letter to Amanda Bynes


You may have claimed to have retired from acting, but you certainly have not retired from drama. High drama. We’re not sure how high this drama is, but I would suggest you not to get a refill of that drug! As the new, slightly flushed face of WGW (White Girl Wasted), we’ve got to hand it to you. You’re going full throttle with the batsh*t cray cray!!

Move over Britney!

Papa’s got a brand new crackbag!

Bynes ran to her Twitter to tweet about her tw*t…

“I want Drake to murder my vagina,” she wrote.

That’s right, Amanda. Tell us how you really feel!

After video footage of Amanda being helped down the street by the paparazzi, that’s a sure sign that there is more f*ckery and madness to come! We’ve got a suggestion for you, Amanda.

Get a film crew to film this visual breakdown and collect a check!

Save a Heaux: An Open Letter to Lindsay Lohan

Dear Strawberry Snortcake,

Finally, after years of near hits and gaping misses, you have finally…finally been ordered into forced rehab! How many times have we written these open letters to you and they fall on deaf ears? No more delays, cancellations, plea deals, for this was the plea deal. Will they hear you crying and kicking and screaming in the abyss you are about to be put away in?

Computer says no!

Let’s see the tale of the tape, now shall we? You plead no contest to giving false information to a policeman, no contest to reckless driving too. And everyone knows that pleading no contest basically means you are lying, you just don’t want to admit the fact that you are in fact, doing just that. And the cherry on top? You’ve violated your probation. Oh no, Hohan. This time….this time? You’re going on lockdown! And let’s not forget the 30 days of community service and 18 months of probation. Who’s willing to place bets now that she breaks the conditions of that as well? So I guess that means we won’t be seeing a sequel to ‘Liz and Dick’ any time soon?!

People-Lindsay-Lohan-3Aw, shucks!

Save a Heaux: An Open Letter to Joe Simpson

Dear Joe,

Now that you may or may not be coming out of the closet, here is some advice for you as you settle into queerdom in the twilight years of your life. And trust that you are indeed considered a Golden Grrrl in the gay community if you are over the age of 25. Your new look of highlighted blonde locks paired with fitted top and skinny jeans? Let’s just say that David Spade and Ellen DeGeneres don’t need any competition! This is not your best look, but you can afford a makeover with your wealth. So fret not, Joe! What you don’t have in youth, you can more than make up for in cold hard cash.

Since you are big on pimping out your daughters of questionable talent, then there is no reason for you not to do the same for yourself! Where’s that Advocate cover? Where’s that guest judge gig on RuPaul’s Drag Race? Where’s that cameo in the latest Ryan Murphy production? Surely Glee agrees with you?!

If you’re not coming out, then my advice would be to start calling around Hollywood now for a beard. You can afford one! These days, there’s a line a mile long outside of Ryan Seacrest Studios full of unemployed actresses as they wait for Julianna Hough to bite the dust. Before that ink gets dry, walk run down there and see who’s for lease. Or just save yourself some time and call up Kelly Preston and ask her which beards are available on the block now. Celebrities like to help out celebrities when they can, ya know.

And as for your Bible-thumping ways, Joe? Well, what are you going to do now? You can’t be a Scientologist, because there’s no such thing as homosexuality as far as they are concerned. As long as you repent for your sins (one would be Ashlee Simpson), you’ll be just fine.

Image via TMZ

Save A Heaux: An Open Letter to Taylor Swift

Dear Taylor,

Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!

To paraphrase Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost
You in danger, girl!”

Now that the media has finally narrowed down who the pop singer is poppin’ in the Kennedy clan, there has been speculation that Taylor may want to think twice before she dives headfirst into the Kennedy family. I would like to take this moment to remind Taylor about those other women the Kennedys have been with and how they have fared. Can you say Marilyn Monroe? Can you say Chappaqidick? Fancy a private airplane ride?

On second thought…

Go ahead and date all the goddamn Kennedys you want, Taylor. Who knows? Maybe you may be one of the few women that survives the Kennedy curse. If you can survive Kanye and flat irons, perhaps you can survive anything. But you might not want to write about anything that happens between you and Conor Kennedy, however. If you’re silenced, how ever will I go on with my life knowing that I will never again hear another whiney, heartfelt, gut-wrenching song of such epic emotional depths?

According to reports, you’ve been tricking’ around with Conor for two months now.

Let’s see if you make it through the summer!!

Image via WENN

Save a Heaux: An Open Letter to Katie Holmes

Dear Katie:

So you finally broke free from the crazy Scientology and TommyGirl. Well, congrats to you for finally putting that barley water down and coming to your senses, but the question of the day seems to be (and what Tommy asks his masseur every now and then)…are you in too deep?

Remember when Tom Cruise was flitting through Hollywood women to beard for him in the mid-2000s? Allegedly, he approached Scarlett Johansson who immediately turned him down because she loves peen way too much to beard. Then he tried to sign up Jessica Alba but she thought she could be a huge star on her own (ha!). And then there was you Katie. You took one short long look at your resume and responded like Cuba Gooding, Jr. in Jerry Maguire

Show me the money!

Fast forward to seven years later…

You left a bonafide hit franchise in Batman to parade on red carpets with elves?! Do I need to re-name your daughter SeaOrg Suri? Is it time to rent Rosemary’s Baby and take notes, Katie?! Why do you think Nicole Kidman bolted? She was not trying to have any natural children with Scientology’s best heaux. Oh no, and f*ck up her body? I put it like this: When you are dealing with Tom Cruise and are a beard, your amount of devotion to him is directly proportional to your talent. Nicole has an Oscar. You’ll always have… Dawson’s Creek. Nicole adopted two children (that she doesn’t even see anymore, let the record show!), and you had to shove the baster in your hole to produce Scientology’s chosen one.


You barely lasted half a decade and we all know that contract was for ten, so what did Tommy say/do to cause you to bolt out of the blue? Did you catch him watching Top Gun again with the deleted love scenes between him and Val Kilmer? Did John Travolta have one too many sleepovers? Who knows? What I do know is that after drinking from that large Big Gulp of F*ckery for so many years, it was high time you fled the scene of the crime and got sole custody. Next time, read the fine print, Katie!

Save A Heaux: An Open Letter to Lindsay Lohan

I do not even know why I waste precious time trying to right a ship so rawng that even Jack would let go of this bitch, but, contrary to popular opinion, I do have a heart…however black and frozen it may be, so without further adieu, here is my open letter to Lindsay Lohan. Let’s hope she is conscious/coherent enough to read it.

Dear Lindsay,

Another week, another disaster, yet like a cockroach drunk on Roach Motel fumes, you still manage to live to see another day of disaster. When are you going to put two and two together to realize once and for all that the root of your problems closely resembles you? I’m talking about your stage mother, Dina, first of all. She does not have your best interests at heart. Remove her!

Second, you are your own worst enemy! How much talent you had as a child B.C. (before crack) and now you’re washed up at 25, yet you look 45. Aren’t you tired of seeing all these new Hollywood starlets pass you by year after year as you peddle your wares on Playboy? Aren’t you tired of seeing other redheads in Hollywood get all the good attention? Aren’t you pissed that Emma Stone basically took your look and career and ran away with it? Just think, it could have been you in The Amazing SpiderMan but nooooo. Instead, you’re on Lifetime trying your damndest to look like a true Hollywood legend in Liz Taylor.


Get your act together, Strawberry Snortcake! Otherwise, the next trip to the emergency room may be your last and although many probably wouldn’t mind your demise, I am still holding out hope.

Save A Heaux: An Open Letter to Kelly Preston

Dear Kells,

The jizz jig is up! I have sat by for the last two decades and kept my mouth shut when people say to me that you and John Travolta are the poster family for heterosxual love. Do you know how many times I almost swallowed my pudding pop when forced to hear these lies? I have laughed, scoffed, and changed the subject too many times to speak. But alas…no more!

As far as beards go, you are far and away the queen of beards. You took a bullet from crazy ass Charlie Sheen and kept on trickin’ truckin’. Now I’m not saying Charlie Sheen is gay. But I am saying that he sure the hell isn’t straight and narrow. In other words, it takes two kinky bitches to do what the two of you did and we all know two kinky bitches do not make a right! Since you signed over your Fallopian tubes to John Travolta, it should be noted that your contract has outlasted even Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. You even got to keep all your chirrenz! For a few years, I even forgot that Travolta liked peen you were almost that convincing. If the Golden Globes gave out awards for bearding, you’d have one. But Kelly, let me tell you…

Times have changed.

It is not necessary to hide in the closet anymore. Don’t let a little thing like religion allow the father of your children to past-time on peen. It’s a new damn day! This charade has just about reached the point of no return now. If you’d ever really had a career, I would say it would be worth saving, so let’s just concentrate on your husband’s career. Fret not, for John Travolta would still sell as a gay man. Besides, half of America has been suspending belief for a couple of decades already.

Save A Heaux: An Open Letter to John Travolta

Dear John,

We all, whether you know it or not, have been preparing for that moment in pop culture when your heterosexual status irretrievably leaped into the gay and homosexual-like bin. Sure, we’ve had brushes with it before over the last three decades: male gigolos claiming to have sodomized you, johns claiming to have been a lover of John in the 80s, et cetera, sex cetera. But now these men seem to be spilling out faster than you can say, “Craigslist flagged my post!” Not just one masseur has spilled the frank and beans about our dear John-John, but two. So, although I have always considered Kelly Preston to be the best beard in the game (sorry, Katie Holmes), not even she can dig her rented man out of this hole. Even worse, Scientology will be slapped within and inch of its life with more seepage on this story, because there will surely be more. Scientologists seem to be addicted to either c*cks peens or cakes pastries (Yes, I’m talking to you, Kirstie Alley! Once the scandal escalates, the truth will be made clear…

Scientology does not cure men from puffing on peen. Otherwise, the Republican party wouldn’t be littered with tap-dancing stall tricks.

My cold, black heart almost beats for you because you’ve been living in the dark rooms of gaydom forever and a day. Why do I always get the impression that you want to get caught in a compromising position with a Craigslist ho and just end this fiasco of f*ckery? Because I’d bet the last can of Crisco that you are probably a kinky bitch behind closed doors. I can just imagine the repression involved. I wonder how many dildos Kelly Preston owns? I wonder how many times Kelly Preston has had to share that bed with the poolboy?

Why can’t Scientology just let you, Johnny Boy, be great?!

SAVE A HEAUX: An Open Letter to Rihanna

Danity has been telling me forever and a day and I have been denying the warning signs. I admit it. I have been ignoring the obvious slow descent of this pop princess because at the end of the day, I like Ri-ho-ho. Really, I do. She’s cute, she’s spunky, she’s fun, and most importantly, she’s not Britney Spears. But now, I cannot stay mute any longer and pretend like she is not slowly but surely losing her shit. So now it is time for my open letter to Rihanna in an attempt to save a heaux.

Dear Rihanna,

You have hit record after hit record because Jay-Z works you like a two dollar trick in a five dollar alley, you’re naturally pretty and don’t need to be airbrushed and Photoshopped within an inch of your life like Katy Perry, Britney Spears, and Tricki Fromaj. You even have a burgeoning acting career now that Battleship looks like it won’t actually sink. People actually think you are a thespian! Beyonce is even jealous of that! So now I want to know…what the hell are you doing?

What kind of role model are you? You’ve already re-enacted the Ike and Tina Revue courtesy of Chris Brown and what do you do? You go and record a couple of duets with him as if the previous hits from him were not enough. Are you cray cray? Do you like being slapped around, Ri-Ri?

Case in point. This past weekend in Los Angeles at Coachella, you are photographed with the prince king, EMPEROR of weed, Snoop Dogg, smoking on something that I know good and goddamn well was not a cigar. Fine, fine, I say. You’re from the Carribean. I get it. Everyone smokes down there. Hell, you probably came out the womb with a blunt between your stubby fingers. But as a celebrity with cameras following you everywhere, you might want to smoke behind closed doors. Or at least fill the room with smoke before you stand in front of one! If your eyes start giving you away, put on some sunglasses. Endorse a brand! Get a check! Ray-bans, b*tch!

What’s in that kush? Is it laced? Something in the milk ain’t clean and I need an explanation.

I can forgive the Ronald McDonald wig, I can forgive you stealing Goldie Hawn’s look, and I can even forgive your flashes of nudity because titty balls are fun for everyone, but come now, Ri-ho-ho! It’s time to get yourself together before Jay-Z drops you like a bad lace-front! Talk about a downward spiral in Payless heels!

Heaux up…or blow up!
That is all.

SAVE A HEAUX: An Open Letter to Simon Cowell

Because yes, folks, it’s true. A heaux can be either gender and by far the heaux of the moment appears to be the only man in Hollywood with titty balls almost as famous as a woman’s…Simon Cowell.

Not only is a new biography on him set to hit the marketplace and release new information on his private life, there are other things happening around the mogul that are coming to light.

He has been outed by Sharon Osbourne as a tiny-meated himbo after he accused her of leaving X Factor because of his affair with Dannii Minogue (who’s still denying it ever happened to which I say… “whatever, lying ass liar!”). Sharon Osbourne may be a lot of things: overly botoxed, lipo’ed, nipped and tucked, but one thing she is not…is a liar!
Also in the news lately is how Cowell has given his latest ex-girlfriend an LA pad valued at over $8 million dollars. Now, even I know in the gold-digger’s handbook of hussery this should be viewed with intense skepticism. True gold-diggers usually have to marry it and pop a few babies out of their worn out poons before they are eligible for such assets, but Simon’s tricks are not even having to go that far. Do they possess magical poon action or is Simon Cowell paying off these girls to not speak on his tiny meat or philandering?

Um, yeah. There’s your answer!

I’ve got some advice for Simon Cowell, because I’m Sir Heaux here to save a heaux. So, I will lay it all out on the line and pray no one snorts it.

Dear Simon,

First of all, you need to stop getting hitched up with women that look like trannies. From Sinitta, Terri Seymour, and the recently tricked, then kicked to the curb Mezhgan Hussainy, stop cavorting with these ladies that look like ladyboys! All the girls I have seen you with look like the kind Eddie Murphy would try to give a ride home at three in the morning. This is not helping kill that rumor that you are gay and homosexual-like either.

Secondly, stop getting engaged to these alleged women! For what? Everyone knows you’re not going to marry them. Stop stringing them along. Just be a playboy for the rest of your life and have women on both sides of the Atlantic. Besides, it’s better for business.

Third? If you want X Factor to thrive in America, you need to listen to me carefully on this next one. If you don’t listen to the other two, you should definitely listen to this last one…

Do not hire Britney Spears to be a judge! Are you mad?!She can’t read the cue cards! What advice can she offer contestants? She can’t even lip-sync on time!

Heaux up…or blow up!
That is all.

SAVE A HEAUX: An Open Letter To Jennifer Aniston

Every once in a while, I like to take time out from my busy schedule to save a heaux in need. The recipient of my ‘Save a Heaux’ lifeline this time will be none other than Jennifer Aniston. Because folks, let’s face facts. She just cannot get a break. So without further adieu, here is my open letter to the woman that could have been but never quite was.

Dear Jen,

I’ve been watching you closely the last few months. Closer than I ever have before because I finally thought you were going to rise above the fray and have it all! Not that I was secretly rooting for you, because I’ve never particularly been a fan of your work or your countless movies where you portray a variation of Rachel, but whatevs. A check is a check is a check. Any-one-dimensional-acting-way, you deserve love and happiness or at the very least the Hollyweird form of what happiness is supposed to look like. So when you managed to snag Justin Theroux (which is a WTF conundrum that I will address at a later date) I thought things were looking up. Maybe now people would be able to mention your name without mentioning the name of the Oscar winner who took your man and left you all alone.

But alas?

Hometrick, you just can’t win. You finally get a man, possibly a babything, and maybe a ring, and then, guess who swoops in on your parade to throw major shade on it? Your arch enemy: Angie Jo,  aka The SteelTrap Thundercat! Now she is engaged, and now she will be planning a wedding. What will you do now? Your wedding surely cannot contend with her destined to be epic wedding, her six children carrying her long train through a garden in a Vera Wang dress, as you settle for your former co-stars from Friends carrying your tired bouquet. Ross contending with Shiloh Pitt? I think not.

Jen, friend? You’re going to need some things. The only way you top this is if you get married at The Vatican carrying septuplets. It may sound impossible, but chin up and out!

Impossible is nothing!

Heaux up…or blow up!

That is all.