That’s not sexy bondage wear or electrical tape on Michelle Rodriguez — that’s a flesh-toned bikini trimmed in black. It took me a couple of hours, but I figured it out when there weren’t any nipples or genital definition. Which, incidentally, marks the first time I’ve ever used term “genital definition” in a public forum without somebody pepper spraying me. I think I might be well on my way to finally bucking that trend!

I could really use your help here, guys — I’m trying to decide which of these shots of Kate Upton I should photoshop my face onto for my new eHarmony profile pic. Right now I’m torn between three and eight. But then nine really speaks to me, too. It says, “I’ve been banned from Christian Mingle.com three times” and “I’ll fake a pregnancy.” But is that really the message I want to send here? Discuss.

For her Beach Bunny Bronze line:

It’s hard to mess up huge boobs, but that is definitely not Kelly Brook’s best angle. She looks like she should be lumbering out of the Limpopo to wallow in some lakeshore mud. And before you get your panties in a twist and start huffing about unrealistic body standards and the misogynistic patriarchal cultural conspiracy, I’m NOT calling her fat. I’m saying that particular angle makes her look fat. Geez. Way to ruin it for everybody. I see we’ve arrived at Bitter and Chunky Town, Population: YOU.

I have no shit broken up with a guy because I saw he had a subscription to Maxim magazine, so I take as much stock in their official Hot 100 lists as I do in the Greek economy. That said, Entourage’s Bible did something right by naming Victoria’s Secret model Bar Refaeli their Hot 100 winner. The Daily Mail says:

This year was the first time Maxim had their readers help decide who is on the list.

Coming in second place for the second year in a row is Magic Mike star Olivia Munn, and bumping up from fifth place to third from last year is Mila Kunis.

Come on. Mila Kunis could have leprosy and two clubbed feet and she’d still be hotter than stupid Olivia Munn. That list just confirms what I’ve always suspected — that Maxim’s readers are every bit as stupid as the magazine itself.

Bar for Agua Bendita:

One of the formerly anonymous John Does who filed a sexual assault lawsuit against John Travolta earlier this month has been revealed, and he’s not a pilates-sculpted blonde with a Castilian lisp and a hairless chest — he’s the huge, hulking 250-pound black guy in the photo above. The New York Daily News says:

John Truesdale — formerly known only as John Doe No. 2 — is a beefy 6-footer with massive arms. He’s a certified nail technician [and] a licensed massage therapist.

So now we know without a doubt that John Travolta’s the catcher in the relationship. If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to gouge out my mind’s eye with a juice glass full of gin and some pills I found in my grandma’s medicine cabinet.

Ashley Olsen in a bikini in Maui, even though her tits are smaller than John Travolta’s:

There’s a reason Chico’s and Coldwater Creek don’t sell string bikinis, people. See Exhibit A: Sharon Stone on the beach in Venice. Gross. Once you hit the half-a-decade mark, you have no business EVER showing your midsection in public. Put that shit under a caftan and stuff it in some support hose and a pair of orthopedic shoes where it belongs.

I remember a time when people still thought Sacha Baron Cohen was funny. I also remember a time when I could make love to a man without compulsively pulling out all my eyelashes the next morning. Unfortunately for both of us, that day was not today.

Promoting “The Dictator” in Cannes by having Elisabetta Canalis pretend to laugh at his wiener and kick him in the nads so he can pretend to toss her dead body overboard in a garbage bag (more pics after the jump):

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Hot on the heels of being named Forbes’ Most Powerful Celebrity of 2012, 42-year old Jennifer Lopez has decided to leave the show that single-handedly resurrected her floundering career and landed her endorsement deals with both L’Oreal and Gillette. So why pass on another twenty-million dollar American Idol paycheck? Two words: Enrique Iglesias. Seriously. Us Magazine says:

This summer, [Lopez] will embark on a 20-city tour of the U.S. and Latin America with Enrique Iglesias with dates that conflict with Idol’s pre-taping schedule; she’s also in the midst of recording a new album [and] numerous film projects… including a role in this summer’s Ice Age 4: Continental Drift.

Passing on twenty million for Enrique fucking Iglesias? He doesn’t even have the mole anymore! At best, you’re looking at one, maybe two mil for him on the black market. That’s a little too much risk and not enough return if you ask me.

In the June issue of Vogue magazine:

You’ll remember Bo Derek’s braids and bathing suit from the iconic movie “Ten.” And now here’s the Courtney Stodden version, “Maybe a Six in Bar Lighting.”

If third-year womyn’s studies haircuts and Lestat-esque complexions are your thing, you just stumbled onto a gold mine called Anne Hathaway in a bikini, my friend. Knock yourself out.

Poolside at the Setai Hotel in Miami this past weekend:

Bar Refaeli appears in Go Style Magazine, which is an Israeli publication. That means the cover is all in Hebrew, so I can’t tell you what she’s featured for other than obviously looking ridiculously hot, but I have an inkling it may say, “Yeeeah!”. And by “inkling” I mean, “a funny feeling in my pants”.

The only way you could make a video of this year’s Sports Illustrated cover girl Kate Upton dancing in a bikini unsexy is if you threw in some footage of a creepy balding sex offender and shot it the living room of his dead grandmother’s home. And here I mean “dead grandmother” in the “bludgeoned to death with her own oxygen tank and buried her under the floorboards” sense of the word, because Terry Richardson is a fucking weirdo. The video looks like something that Detectives Stabler and Benson would turn over as evidence to the prosecution on an episode of SVU.