Lady Gaga and her “bones” posed in a provocative shoot for NME magazine, which I assumed was a periodical published by Nightmare Enterprises for King Dedede to aid in his attempts to take down the mighty star warrior Kirby. Apparently this was not the case, although it may still give you nightmares. She says in the interview (via the Daily Mail):

“I feel I have been probed endlessly about who the fuck I am. I have been quite open about it. And still nobody seems to have a clue.

I’m not going to start churning out what you expect. If you’re looking for me to be something that isn’t there, STOP LOOKING. I am not that. I am not created. If you want me to be a manufactured act, you can fuck off.

Let me tell you something. If you fucking rip my hairbow and my wig off my fucking head, my shoes, my bra, every single thing on my body, and you throw me on a piano with a microphone, I will fucking make you cry.”

She’s right, you know. You would cry. Seeing that disgusting leprechaun naked on a piano would unleash a torrent of anguish and despair unlike anything you had ever known. It’s the same feeling you get after seeing “Two Girls, One Cup” or when the bartender cuts you off before happy hour is even over.

Her new controversial single “Judas”:

Making love to Lindsay Lohan must be like trying to fuck a damn dogwood sapling. All spindly and limbs snapping off and bowing beneath your weight and poking you in the ribs every time you change positions. But you can’t use a dogwood’s spine to grate cheese or its hip bones to julienne potatoes and make some wicked good cheese fries, can you? Advantage: Lindsay Lohan.

Shopping with her Mom and sister Ali in SoHo over the weekend: