Shakira’s fat doofey boyfriend will make your wiener cry. (The Bastardly)

Did you miss the premiere of “Hey Paula” last night? Shame on you! (Dlisted)

The Pink Taco grand opening had more D’s than the dumb kid with ADD’s report card. Zing! (A Socialite’s Life)

Hayden Panettiere really likes to, uh, lick things. Get your mind out of the gutter, she’s underage! (Egotastic!)

Did little Stephanie Tanner get a boob job?! (Best Week Ever)

Live Free or Die Hard is indeed, a sad state of affairs. (Pajiba)

Here are some photos of Madonna leaving a Starbucks in New York earlier this week, looking beautiful as ever. Yes, that’s right — beautiful. And when I say beautiful, I mean not at all like a crusty old hag who spends her days crouched over a bubbling caldron casting spells with eye of newt and toe of frog.

What? No! I didn’t say hag! I swear! Please Miss Madonna, I beg for your mercy! Now I kept my end of the deal — I told everyone you were beautiful, so you promised not to turn me into one of Paris Hilton’s genital warts. Dammit.

More of Madonna — a radiant vision of gorgeousness, after the jump.

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Horseface McUgly Kimberly Stewart attended the launch for the classily named Pink Taco Restaurant in LA yesterday, wearing some sort of hideous contraption made out of black doilies and electrical tape.

I don’t really have much else to say about this, except that even if you happen to be a gorgeous model — if you procreate with a fuggo like Rod Stewart? This is the best that could possibly happen. The X chromosomes will only take you so far, ladies! And what self respecting supermodel wants a human travesty like this walking around with your genepool stamped all over it? There you have it, a science lesson and a PSA all wrapped into one. You can thank me later, Petra.

More of the Genetic Fiasco after the jump.

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Somebody told me that these were photos taken of Katie Holmes in LA this week, but I didn’t fucking believe it — because this is obviously Michael Jackson. How else do you explain the giant dark sunglasses, surgically unrecognizable alien face, gnarled hands and complete lack of breasts? And furthermore, who else under the age of 85 wears giant, ruffled blouses? It takes a special brand of 50 year old pedophile to be that unfashionable.

More of Michael Jackson Ms. Holmes after the jump.

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Well, despite what Abby said yesterday, my Britney moratorium is officially over! Hooray! But only because this is a classy story, and not one that involves her gleefully shoving her bare ladyparts in the direction of any willing cameras.

Sources are now reporting that K-Fed is dragging his heels on signing the divorce papers over concerns that Britney might not be the best mother, which could leave him attempting to rescind their tentative 50-50 custody settlement reached earlier this year. From People:

“Britney’s attorneys are anxious to see Kevin sign off on a divorce,” the source says. “But Kevin and his lawyer Mark Vincent Kaplan are dragging their heels out of concern over reports of Britney’s post-rehab partying.”

Federline’s camp, the source adds, “wants to make sure that the divorce document makes it simple enough for Kevin to downsize Britney’s access to her kids the next time her behavior troubles him.”

Wha-wha-whaaaat? So what you’re telling me is that this whole time Britney has been making a huge, assy spectacle of herself, the divorce wasn’t even finalized? I would love to see a new clause in the settlement where Britney has to keep a pair of hermit crabs alive for a week for every week they let her near her kids, but unfortunately I think there might be laws out there to prevent excessive cruelty to hermit crabs.

Brittany Murphy is a fucking idiot. (The Blemish)

Vivica A. Fox places the race card. I guess the “Booty Call” card had already been dealt. (MollyGood)

The Spice Girls reunited — and planning a tour! It’s like my junior year in high school just threw up a little. (Hollywood Tuna)

Megan Fox is still hot. I checked. (Popoholic)

Stirring excerpts from Paris Hilton’s diary. (Celebitchy)

The most hilarious celebrity composites I’ve seen in a while. (I’m Not Obsessed)

Usher knocks up his fiancee. (Socialite Life)

Beyonce sees the silver lining. (City Rag)

The toxicology reports are in, and it seems that actress Lindsay Lohan was both drunk and high on cocaine when she wrecked her car in Los Angeles Memorial Day weekend. TMZ reports

According to multiple law enforcement sources, toxicology reports conclude that Lohan, 20, had “nearly twice the legal limit” of alcohol and traces of blow in her bloodstream when she crashed her 2005 Mercedes SL-65 convertible into a curb on Sunset Blvd. around 5:30 AM on May 26.

Smelling salts! Smelling salts! Not our Lindsay! Not high! I feel the vapors coming on! I’ll just keep my eyes closed and frantically fan my hands beneath my chin and maybe make a few whimpering noises through my nose. In other startling revelations, the sun rises in the east and pro-wrestlers take steroids. And America is the greatest nation the world has ever known. U-S-A! U-S-A!

You might have noticed that I more than made up for Stacey’s Britney ban these last few days. Some people have standards and are discerning; I, for one, do not. She’s here again tomorrow, so you guys can play Mahjong and sip your martinis and peer down your noses from your lofty Paris- and Britney-free heights. But today, you’re going to wallow in Britney Spears’ zits with me, like it or not. And she’s fat, too! Woo! Plenty more cerebral stimulation where that came from! How ’bout next I light one of my farts and finish up with a couple of “Taladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” quotes? I eat standards like yours for breakfast. And then I pass out next to one of the empty liquor bottles on the floor and wait for the guest editor to clean up after me.

More of Peaches and Cream after the jump

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Former Wham! frontman George Michael isn’t just good at jerking off and passing out at intersections — he’s also good at avoiding reality. According to Digital Spy

George Michael is refusing to take an HIV test because he fears the result could come back as positive. The gay singer revealed he has not had a test in over three years while filming for Stephen Fry’s new television show HIV and Me. The producer of the show said: “George says he does not believe in tests. He says he finds the wait for results too harrowing and hasn’t had a test since at least 2004 due to his fears it might be positive.”

Denial — now there’s a philosophy I can really get behind. Overdraft fees? Not if I don’t open my bank statements! Pregnant? Not if I don’t look at the little stick! Drunk and alone? Not if I don’t look in a mirror! Passed out under a bar stool in a puddle of my own urine? Not if I don’t wake up!

Because George Michaels is an ugly homo, more of Elle MacPherson at his birthday party instead after the jump

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Paris Hilton appeared on Larry King last night in her first televised interview since being released from jail. Below is an excerpt of what I believe to be the most pivotal moment of the interview:

KING: Were you strip-searched? Do they do that in jail?

HILTON: Yes.

KING: What was that like?

HILTON: The most humiliating experience of my life. I never had to do that, you know, doing that in front of someone you don’t even know. It’s pretty embarrassing.

Really? The “most humilating?” What about this? Or this? And how ’bout this? Don’t let’s forget this. And then there’s the ever popular this. Yeah, I can see how a unrecorded cavity search by a prison official would be way more embarrassing than any of those.

If you have five extra minutes and a masochistic streak, you can read the entire interview here.

I’m saying this through clenched teeth, but this will leave you actually respecting Michael Moore. (Pajiba)

John Stamos’ is a washed-up drunken loser, and now it’s recorded for internet posterity! (The Grumpiest)

Petra Nemcova wants you to have a piece. (The Bastardly)

Reese Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhaal call it quits. (About: Celebrity Gossip)

Rosie O’Donnell dresses her little girl up like a terrorist and calls it “art.” I call it “shit.” Six of one, really. (Jossip)

Justin Timberlake likes to squirt on Swedish teenagers. (Gabsmash)

Quite possibly the most repulsive boob job I’ve ever seen. Including that time at the Tranny Fair in Ponte Vedra when I cried. (Drunken Stepfather)

British songstress Amy Winehouse recently cut herself during an interview with an American music magazine. London’s The Sun reports

During her chat with Spin magazine… Amy [etched] “I love Blake” into her stomach using a shard of broken mirror in front of the reporter and photographer… moments after [she] had posed for a photo with the razor-sharp glass. The singer also kept making repeated visits to the toilet after which she was seen checking her nose in the same piece of mirror. For months there has been speculation about Amy’s self-harming. But this is the first time it has been witnessed first hand.

“I love Blake,” eh? Well, it might be a little more original than the “Sometimes you feel like a nut” and the “Where’s the Beef?” scratched into my upper thighs, but it’s not nearly as catchy. “Alll-mond Joy’s got nuts (bum bum bum ah) Mounds don’t! ” See how that works? You’ll be singing that little ditty all day. Try making a good song out of Amy Winehouse’s scabs. It just can’t be done!