Mischa Barton was arrested early this morning for DUI, narcotics possession and driving on a suspended license. TMZ says

The former “O.C.” star was pulled around 2:45 AM as she was driving in West Hollywood. Cops say she “was seen straddling two lanes of traffic and failed to signal when making a turn.” When deputies pulled her over, they determined that she “was an unlicensed driver and was driving while under the influence of an alcoholic beverage.”

I always thought a better name for “The O.C.” would have been “The B.A.C,” and instead of smarmy twats and their prep school boyfriends bitching and whining about their superficial angst, you could just have security footage of drunk people throwing up and falling down, possibly hurting and/or humiliating themselves. Think about the money you’d save in production costs alone. I never watched one single episode of “The O.C.,” but I can promise you I wouldn’t have missed an opportunity to see Mischa passed out in a puddle of her own barf while some hobo rifled through her purse. That’s what you call a “recipe for success,” Fox Network. Sometimes it just happens to smell a lot like urine.

You didn’t think Lindsay Lohan’s ex-boyfriend was going to stay quiet for long, did you? Riley Giles’ fifteen minutes were close to ticking away. Dangerously close. Until he reminded the News of the World this past weekend:

“Lindsay’s definitely a nymphomaniac. We’d have sex a couple of times in the day and then go to it through the night. We once did it four times in a row straight. Lindsay was insatiable. She’d demand sex again and again. We’d go at it for hours. She’d have worn out most guys.”

“Lindsay has a very addictive personality. And now she’s switched habits again. First it was drugs, then it was sex, now it’s shopping. Her whole day consists of spending—EVERY day. She gets her hair done every day and has a spray tan twice a week. I don’t think it’s healthy.”

Look, bottom line — if doesn’t involve penises and mystic tans, I can’t really see Lindsay Lohan getting behind it. In front of it on all fours or under it on her knees, yes, but not behind it. It’s just too hard to get the wiener inside you that way.

The teaser for the inevitable sex tape:

I hope everyone out there in readerland had a very Merry Christmas and Chocolate Kwanzaa¹ and Explosive Eid-ul-Adha or whatever the hell holiday you celebrated in order to get a couple of days off from work. In case you missed it, Britney Spears sure did, even getting visited by the Ghost of Wieners Present at the Peninsula Hotel late Sunday night. According to Us Weekly

Spears’ “wild date” began Saturday night with the [Finalpixx paparazzi] photographer Adnan handing Spears his business card at a gas station after he heard she “liked” him. Soon after getting his card, Spears contacted him and, after meeting up, the pair was later spotted holding hands at a supermarket. “After discussing the possibility of him coming into her house she said that her house was too dirty and that she would rather go to a hotel… so they changed cars and she went back to her house to freshen up while Adnan parked down the road and waited for her. She then came out in her car and they both drove to an L.A. hotel.”

The photographer departed the hotel at 6 a.m. Sources say Spears left at around 9 a.m. and returned to her nearby home off Mulholland Drive.

So the homecoming queen has taken to fucking the school janitor. Granted, the homecoming queen got knocked up a couple of times and put on thirty pounds and smells a little bit like bologna and cheese, but still. He’s paparazzi. Britney might as well pork a fry cook or marry a backup dancer or something. See, it’s funny because she already did that! I swear, sometimes this shit just writes itself.

¹_{Copyright Ray Nagin 2006}

Britney after dropping off the kiddies yesterday night:

The secret behind Britney Spears’ effortless beauty revealed. (MollyGood)

I’m dreaming of a black-and-white Rebecca Romijn-mas. Just like the ones I used to know. (The Bastardly)

Welcome to Sting’s boudoir of garish delights, where everything is gilded and smells like Ben-Gay. (Celebitchy)

John Mayer does his best Ashlee Simpson. (Dlisted)

Fact: “Little Drummer Boy” is responsible for almost 80% of all Yuletide deaths. Also that song about Christmas shoes. (Pajiba)

Jamie Lynn steals all of Ashlee Simpson’s thunder. (Evil Beet)

Kate Moss tries to sue her way out of a potential lifetime of shame. (CelebNewsWire)

Doll Britney has realistic movable arms and legs and a bald snatch just like the real one! (CityRag)

Jenna Jameson looking almost human. (The Grumpiest)

Happiest of holidays to you and yourn from the staff here at Yeeeah! Remember, 1) you can always regift it, 2) you’re supposed to be drunk at an office Christmas party, and 3) your boss can’t fire you for throwing up in the ficus. Not legally, anyway. The copier’s a different story.

Twice arrested and currently incarcerated “American Idol” loser Jessica Sierra is pregnant. Another Christmas miracle, perhaps? TMZ says

“American Idol” trainwreck finalist Jessica Sierra done got herself knocked up — and she’s still in the slammer! Sources [say] that the father is a “rapper” and Jessica is ecstatic over the news. She’s currently in the infirmary in the Falkenburg Road Jail in Florida on a “pregnancy diet.”

Sierra is currently facing two misdemeanor charges of disorderly intoxication and obstructing or opposing an officer and two felony counts of possession of cocaine and battery.

This must mean that Jessica has been made an honorary Spears! Nice. Maybe we should take a page from China’s book and start practicing population control. Like dusting Cheetos with arsenic and making lotto tickets out of rattlesnakes. But the real winner in all this has to be the unborn child. Sometimes life just deals you all the right cards!

LSFW screen caps from the sex tape:

I can’t put into words the array of emotions that washed over me while watching the trailer for Paris Hilton’s new movie, “The Hottie and the Nottie.”¹ First rage, then nausea, then blinding fury, then the nausea again, and finally, an overwhelming sense of impending doom for the fate of Western society. On the plus side, it loosened my bowels and took the finish off a desk I’ve been planning on resurfacing. So, you know, take that into consideration before watching it yourself. And I don’t make any promises if you’re pregnant. Your kid could come out with an extra vagina or a seventeen or turn out to be part demon. You’d probably be better off sifting through a pile radioactive blue-veined cheeses and smoking cigarettes made of mercury. Luckily, I was already doing that before I started watching, so I saved some real time.

¹_{Fun fact: This movie single-handedly killed “Smellavision.” Also two extras who happened to be midgets. The two incidents are unrelated.}

Lindsay Lohan isn’t just a whore in the literal sense of the word; she’s also famous for shamelessly staging photo ops to earn a quick buck. Like here, where she’s carting around a package of Arriva smokeless tobacco, just like she’s coincidentally been photographed doing all week long. Smokeless fucking tobacco. That sounds like something you might buy at Chimney Rock, along with a couple of backup wagon axles and maybe another ox, but then you get dystentery and cholera and lose most of your supplies in the Columbia River. Yep, that damn Oregon Trail will fuck you every time. That’s why I mostly stick with Carmen Sandiego and Dig Dug.

The impetus behind Pam Anderson’s surprise divorce filing this week has been revealed, and it’s because — dun-dun-dun — she’s a giant whore. Didn’t see that one coming, did you? Page Six says

Spies in Las Vegas say Anderson spent the night before her final performance with magician Hans Klok, “cozying up to” publicity-loving illusionist Criss Angel at club LAX. Pictures were taken, gossip was spread - and Salomon “hit the roof when he found out Pam was hanging out with Criss while he was off at a poker tournament. They had a huge fight,” and Anderson filed for divorce a few days later. A friend of Anderson said, “It was just another log on the fire. Their relationship is so volatile [that] I’m sure this won’t be the last time she files, but nothing happened with her and Criss; they were just hanging out.”

It’s a known fact that “cozying up” is just fancy talk for “pulling down your pants.”¹ This is precisely why you’ll never catch me “cozying up” next to a roaring fire. I like my lady bits un-charred,² thank you very much. Doesn’t make a goddamned lick of sense to get your genitals out near a fire. You might as well pull them out and then hand them them to Pamela Anderson or something. Wait, what were we talking about? Exactly.

¹_{According to Uncle Harold Thanksgiving 1988.}

²_{I also prefer Canadian bacon.}

Hepatitis C forgets her concealer last week:

Jessica Simpson’s boobs aren’t as lucky as they might seem. (Jossip)

Sharon Stone channels her inner Mrs. Roper for $175,000. (Ayyyy!)

Even Criss Angel’s birthday cake tastes like Massengil. (Websters)

Jennifer Love Hewitt turns down Playboy, says “hell, yes” to Rubenesque Beauties. (The Blemish)

Michael Lohan dresses up like a shepherd, probably to blaspheme Western Christianity. (Pretty Boring)

Jamie Lynn and her boyfriend aren’t together anymore. You can tell by the frowny face on his MySpace! (Wizbang! Pop)

You vote — which celebrity needs photoshop more: Britney Spears or Amy Winehouse? (Hollywood Headache)

Heidi Montag’s fake wedding is canceled. Hear that? It’s the sound of my fake tears hitting the keyboard. Kidding! I just spilled some whiskey. (IBBB)

Marisa Tomei super duper naked (NSFW). (Egotastic)

Tony Parker might be French, but he’s pursuing justice the American way: with a lawsuit. Tony is suing photo agency X17 for their claims that he cheated on wife Eva Longoria with French model Alexandra Paressant. TMZ reports

In the lawsuit, Parker alleges X17 defamed him, claiming, “X17 had to know that the story was false, or at the very least, it had to have entertained serious doubts about the credibility of its supposed source.” The San Antonio Spur seems particularly pissed that X17 never sought to “verify the information with Mr. Parker, Ms. Longoria, any of their representatives or….anyone else who might have knowledge of the truth or falsity of the allegations. Tony Parker never had sexual relations with a woman named Alexandra Paressant.” The suit seeks at least $20 million [in damages].

All this ugliness could have been avoided if Eva would have just taken it in the face and occasionally let him put it in the butt. Simple as that, ladies. Trust me, short of lying, it’s the best solution to most of life’s problems. If I had a nickel for every jam it’s ever gotten me out of, I probably could have retired by the age of twenty-five. At the very least, I could have made a really big pyramid out of nickels. I’m talking huge. Believe me, you’re not going to see Eva Longoria building something like that. Someone really ought to tell her that you can’t put dignity in the bank.

The happy couple on the set of InStyle photoshoot last Friday:

I love guessing games. Always have. In fact, the speedometer in my car hasn’t worked for the last three years, but I haven’t bothered to fix it because I like to “guess” how fast I’m going most of the time. All I have to do is compare the RPMs to the relative gear that I’m in. For example, third gear/low threes is about fifty miles an hour. Fifth gear/high twos is roughly sixty-five miles an hour. That way, when an officer pulls me over and asks if I know how fast I was going, I can honestly say, “No, sir, I don’t.” Also, it makes drinking and driving way more of a challenge than it already is. It’s like Battle of the Brains for your car.

But I digress. The point is that you, like me, like keeping your rapist’s wit¹ sharpened and your mind limber, and nothing stirs up the old gray matter like a good “Name That Celebrity.” Today’s celebrity body part: the boil-riddled lower jaw (and possible mustache?) of a well-known Hollywood actress. You usually only find cysts that big on a ovary or near a overflowing bedpan, but this lucky starlet had them set up shop on her face. Look out, meth addicts — there’s a new girl in town!

The meth-tacular reveal after the jump

¹_{To anyone who says it’s “rapier’s wit”: nobody likes you}

(more…)

Britney Spears is going to turn the custody tables on Kevin Federline by drug testing the kiddies for second hand marijuana smoke exposure. Life & Style Magazine says

“Britney believes Kevin’s been smoking pot in front of the kids,” says a friend of hers. “She says she can smell it in the boys’ hair and on their clothes when she has her visitation with them. She’s asked the lawyers if they can prove the kids have been exposed to environments in which drugs have been taken. They told her she should snip off a few strands of their hair right after they’ve returned from Kevin’s place and have them analyzed in a lab.”

Since Brit submits to regular court-ordered drug tests herself, her legal team intends to call an emergency hearing if Sean and Jayden test positive for pot. “Kevin could lose custody,” says the insider.

That’s what you call “fighting fire with fire.” Or “retard with head injury.” Or “monkey with Britney Spears.” And I know I’d pay good money to watch a monkey fight Britney Spears. Especially if it was retarded and had a head injury. Sorry, Fox Network — I thought of it first!

Elementary, my dear Watson: