Model Christy Turlington steams up the pages of V magazine. (popbytes)

Kathy Hilton’s jizz-free face cream. (Jossip)

England hates Kirstin Dunst. (Dlisted)

Don’t know if you’d rather be turned on or throw up? Then Lindsay Lohan’s new film is for you. (Pajiba)

Shakira just melted my panties. (UseMyComputer)

Kathy Griffin looks… hot? (CelebritySmack)

E! finally ditches Paris and Nicole. (Celebitchy)

So Scarlett Johansson isn’t doing any big screen porn. That’s why you have an imagination and opposable thumbs. (CelebNewsWire)

Star Jones is finally owning up to having had gastric bypass surgery. According to the Post-Chronicle

Star Jones Reynolds has confessed that she had gastric bypass surgery to drop 160 pounds. For years, Star avoided questions about her weight loss because “Everything about me was already so public (mostly my own doing - talk about dumb!), so of course everyone wanted to know what I had done. I was also terrified someone would have a tragic result after emulating me without making an informed decision with her doctor.”

“But the complete truth is, I was scared of what people might think of me. I was afraid to be vulnerable, and ashamed at not being able to get myself under control without this procedure. I used to look in the mirror and take pride in my figure, but that was when I was legitimately a full-figured woman. I’d gradually gone from full-figured to morbidly obese.”

Well, no shit, Sherlock. Unless you plowed over a gypsy woman with your car or have a meth lab in your basement, there’s just no way you’re dropping that kind of weight without the magic of surgery. She might as well go ahead and admit that her “husband” is really gay and that her “breasts” are actually constructed out of tube socks stuffed with eggplants. You can do it, Star. The truth shall set you free!

Pete Doherty is desperate to have ex-girlfriend Kate Moss back in his life. So desperate, if fact, that he hit up The Mirror — the British tabloid responsible for publishing those infamous photos of Kate snorting cocaine — to make the following heartfelt plea:

“Kate has broken my heart… I can’t get hold of her. This is the only way I can get through. I need her to know that she’s out of her fucking mind. Kate, if you love me then realise I don’t want any other girl. I love her with all my heart.

Then he kinda switches gears:

“Kate - a nasty old rag. We fell out for the same old reason. She accused me of fucking this girl who lives around the corner. We were watching a DVD together and Kate started going ‘I could tell by the way you were sitting back there that you’ve fucked her’. I said ‘You’re out of your fucking mind’. I was really up for some peace and love that morning. I wasn’t up for being called a cock and being kicked in the head.”

So Kate should probably just disregard this, then:

Incredibly, wayward Doherty has since proposed to a stunning Parisian artist named Christine he met on the day Kate dumped him. He is set to marry her in November. The star candidly admitted: “I made rather a rash gesture. It was more in a fit of anger. I asked this bird Christine to marry me.”

This is a pretty crappy attempt at reconciliation, even for Pete Doherty. For Chrissake, that cat painting was better than this. He could have at least done something a tad more repentant than calling Kate “nasty” and asking another woman to marry him. Like, say, he could have written her an apology poem. Maybe with his own feces. You know, made it some kind of metaphor about what a piece of shit he’s been. It could work. Or he could maybe just eat a turd. It’d still be better than this interview.

I suppose if you wanted to see supermodel Cindy Crawford’s boobies, you could just google “Cindy Crawford topless” and start clicking. But where’s the fun in that? I find it’s better when someone just hands you nipples. Then you’re just obligingly accepting a gift instead of actively being a pervert. See how that works? Same goes for large bags of cocaine and laptops with the serial numbers scratched off. Just be gracious and take what’s handed you. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. What you do is slide the gift horse a couple of twenties under the table and maybe unzip its pants from time to time. That’s what we in the south like to call “decorum.”

More Cindy in a bikini in St. Tropez after the jump

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New pictures of Britney Spears costume-swapping with Club One strippers earlier in the year just made the rounds on the internet. London’s The Sun reports

Taken just five days before the popstar’s now infamous head-shaving incident in February, Brit leaves little to the imagination in an impossibly teeny thong. Partying with palls at the Club One nightclub in New York city, the troubled 25-year-old mum-of-two dived backstage to chat with the resident dancers and ended up stripping down to her smalls in the process.

It’s easy to pick Britney out in the pictures. Just find the one with the widest ass and the beefiest arms and the Lennie Small expression. Also of note: the gentleman with the eyebrows has the ashiest ass I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously, he could have ground out a fire with that bottom. And then powdered it with some used charcoal briquettes and pulverized sidewalk chalk. That noted, I’d still let his ashy ass sit on my face before I’d let Britney. I’d just ask someone to tell me about the rabbits and hope I never see it coming.

The red hot thong action after the jump. I went ahead and labeled these NSFW because I just discovered that “Of Mice and Men” is banned in most American schools. I said banned. Wiki says “Due to the novel’s content, it has been the frequent target of censors and appears on the American Library Association list of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 1990-2000 at number six.” God knows I don’t want to step on any of the censor’s toes. Welcome to the Soviet States of America!

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Paris Hilton gets her broke-ass bitch on. (Defamer)

So, obviously, Suri Cruise is just another product of Proctor & Gamble. (BWE)

Jaime Pressly embraces her white-trash sluttiness. (Drunken Stepfather)

Lara Flynn Boyle out-freckles Lindsay Lohan. (The Bastardly)

Rachel Zoe is missing something. Like the blood of virgins. And maybe some sheep placenta. Whatever the hell it is that demons eat. (MollyGood)

Little Miss Sunshine a dirty meth whore? (CelebSlam)

The REAL reason why Jessica Alba dumped Cash Warren, and it’s not my dashing good looks and ineffable charm. (The Blemish)

Ball-grabbin’? Not on Faith Hill’s watch. Not by a longshot. See right here, when some fan at their L.A. concert takes a paw at husband Tim McGraw’s ball sack, she lets that bitch know what’s what and sets the record straight on ball-grabbin’ for the rest of us. Is it okay to grab balls at Mee-Maw’s funeral? Sure. After church tractor pull? Yeah, why not. But I’ll be johnswizzled if some whitetrash slut’s gonna be grabbin’ balls at fuckin’ music concert. It’s just not the right time or place. That trailer trash skank can find her own man at a Nascar race and pull on his balls all the live-long day, but I’ll be goddammed if it’s gonna happen in the middle of a Tim McGraw show. It ain’t fittin’, it just ain’t fittin’.

In news I’m sure you don’t give a shit about, R & B singer Usher and his pregnant fiancee didn’t make it down the aisle this weekend. According to People magazine,

On Saturday, only hours before the [wedding] was to take place in Southampton, N.Y., Usher’s publicist issued the following statement: “It was announced today that the wedding ceremony for Usher Raymond IV and Tameka Foster was canceled. No additional information will be given regarding the circumstances of the cancellation, but we hope the privacy of this matter will be respected.”

What could have caused such an unexpected change of heart?

“Usher’s mother [and former manager, Jonetta Patton, whom he fired in May] is against the wedding. That is one of the main obstacles,” [said a] source. But another source [said]: “Usher changed his mind. [He and Foster] had a lot of differences about the details — the bride wanted barbeque, [and] he wanted to have [renowned chef] Jean Georges cook.” As a result of the differences, the wedding “was on again off again for the past few days. [Foster] was calling it off because she wasn’t getting the things that she wanted. The mother was calling it off … Usher was calling it off.”

Boring, loring, snoring… Jesus. Tell me it’s because the pregnant fiancee revealed herself to be Tameka Foster’s evil twin and that the real Tameka was actually carrying the child of — I don’t know — Ronnie James Dio or something. Not because you couldn’t decide on the fucking beef brisket and your mom didn’t like the bride. Come on! This is Hollywood, for Chrissake! Surely you can do better than that. In similar news, there was a lot of lint in my dryer filter this morning and I flossed for three minutes after a breakfast of Fiber One and prunes. Definitely one for the journal. Further bulletins as events warrant!

Surprise! It’s Britney Spears, looking like a used-up whore on the verge of a meltdown and a meth fix. For the 768th time this month. Our little media darling began shooting the video for her first single “Give Me More” in L.A. this past Wednesday, and News of the World had the following to say of the shoot:

Looking dead-eyed and disorientated, the pop babe lost it during the shambolic video shoot. At one point sad Britney… squatted in her torn fishnets, clutched her Yorkie puppy and stared vacantly into space. A source added: “She had a problem with the extras being about when she did the pole dance. She was shy or embarrassed or something and she really started struggling with the whole thing. You could see she was getting a bit wobbly but no one expected her to throw a complete fit. Suddenly she was in floods of tears and stormed off set. She eventually came back but was sobbing hysterically. All her make-up had run. By now it was nearly midnight and the director just called things to an end and sent people home. It was a total shambles. It was embarrassing.”

Well, at least she doesn’t look fat here. I mean, there’s that. Kinda like when the doctor told me, “At least it’s just the clap and genital warts, not HIV.” See, it’s all about perspective, people! My mom says I’ve always been a half-full kinda girl.

More of sad stripper Britney wrestling a pole after the jump

Pics by Alec Byrne courtesy of News of the World

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Two things:

1. Hot corn.

2. Butt.

That out of the way, on to the bigger story: Jessica Simpson would be nestled up against an Oscar right now if her jerk-off dad hadn’t gotten in the way of the role of a lifetime. People magazine reports

“The last script that came to us was for Jessica to be a porn star,” Jessica’s father and manager, Joe Simpson, [said] at Thursday’s ABC Television Critics Association party. “We were promised we would win an Oscar with that… I was like, ‘Eh, we’ll just buy a [statue of a] little man and keep our clothes on.’”

Because if anybody’s going to be seeing Jessica Simpson naked and taking two wieners at once, it’s going to be Joe, goddammit, and one of those wieners is going to damn well be his. You can tell by all the “we” talk he’s working there. Only stage mothers at “Little Miss” pageants and incestual ex-preachers talk like that. Or sometimes crazy people speaking to their reflections about their plans to take over the world. But I’m not crazy. Since changing my meds, it’s mostly just “My, we look pretty today, don’t we?” or “Tricksy hobbitses stole it from us. My precioussss!” and a lot of raw-fish eating.

More of Jessica in next month’s “Harper’s Bazaar” after the jump

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The mastermind behind Screech’s sex tape attempts to extort Tom Cruise; fails.
(A Socialite’s Life)

Take her kids. PLEASE. (Celebitchy)

Awww, would you look at that. Pink had a baby. (Seriously?OMG!WTF?)

Rachel Bilson hangs out with some old dude. (The Bastardly)

Mary Louise Parker gets nekkid for “Weeds!” Woohoo! (Egotastic!)

Whoopi Goldberg is all set to be the next crazy-ass “View” co-host. (Jossip)

The Simpsons Movie will probably meet your expectations. Nothin’ wrong with that! (Pajiba)

Here are some photos of Sienna Miller undoubtedly on her way to the amphitheater for a thrilling day of gladiator fighting. Unfortunately she seems to have forgotten the first rule of gladiator fighting which is “Never forget your helmet.” And while we’re mentioning it, it probably would have helped if she brought a gladius along, too. Seriously, just because you throw on a tunic and some brass sandals and wrist cuffs all willy nilly — it doesn’t mean that you’re going to be successful at gladiator fighting. What’s that old saying that the Romans have? Oh, that’s right — “Always be prepared.”

More photos of Sienna headed to the Colosseum, after the jump.

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