Turns out big fake freckle tits with weird melanin-less nipples aren’t this season’s must-have Christmas gift, because nobody’s buying the Lindsay Lohan issue of Playboy since it hit newsstands on Friday. Fox News says:

Not many consumers are paying for [the Lindsay Lohan Playboy] experience. In fact, interest seems low in seeing Lohan’s intensely air-brushed impersonation of Marilyn Monroe in glossy print.

Fox411 spent Friday morning trolling the shelves of newsstands and gas stations from New York to Philadelphia only to be confronted with the same reality at each: no one staring back or making a purchase.

“No one has bought it,” was the resounding answer to our query at each stop.

The problem with Lindsay Lohan’s Playboy spread was not that it leaked a week early or that she failed to uphold her contractual obligation to promote the issue. Not at all. The problem with Lindsay Lohan’s Playboy shoot is that Lindsay Lohan is not Kate Beckinsale. That was really Hugh Hefner’s first mistake right there. I guess that’s what they mean when they say hindsight’s 20/20.

Kate in the January issue of Elle Russia:

I’ve always thought “Transformers 3″ star Rosie Huntington-Whiteley’s lips were fake, so I did a little digging for some good before-and after-pics to put up with this shoot. Turns out they’re 100% real. I found this pic of her at 17 toking on a water pipe, and her lips are as gigantic as ever. So logically, that would have to mean that one of her biological parents is part grouper (see last 5 thumbs below). It’s the only way to explain her mouth that doesn’t involve autonomous migratory hemorrhoids or a serious allergic reaction to bees.

Nobody likes Gwyneth Paltrow, and no matter how hard she tries to sound cool and down-to-earth, she always comes off like a pretentious cunt. Case in point — her interview in next month’s Elle Magazine:

On getting support from Beyoncé on her surprise duet with Cee Lo Green at the Grammys: “This story always makes me cry… It’s 10 in the morning and Beyoncé schleps it all the way down to the Staples Center to watch. I mean, She’s Beyoncé!”

On the advice Beyoncé gave her before her performance: “Beyoncé’s like, ‘Okay. The singing is great. But you’re not having any fun.’ She’s like, ‘Remember when we’re at Jay’s concert and Panjabi MC comes on and you do your crazy Indian dance? Do that. Be you!’”

On creating a solo album: “Beyoncé and Jay — they think that I should just go do it by myself. That I should go… in a studio and see what happens. And if it’s good, do it. And if it’s not, don’t. So that’s probably what I’ll do.”

I have never seen such a blatant case of flagrant name-dropping in all my life. Jesus Christ. We get it, Gwyneth! You’re friends with Beyonce and Jay-Z. BFD. I have black friends, too. Well… I know some black people. Know of them, anyway. I generally avoid them unless it’s sunny or I have less than twenty bucks on me. Now what were we talking about again? Oh, right:

On showing the world a different side of herself: “If you speak to my friends who’ve known me since I was four, they’ll say, ‘That is her.’ They always said to me, ‘You’re the dirtiest person in the world and so funny. Show the world that side of you.’ I felt guarded. I felt like if I really showed people more of me and I was still not accepted, then… Who cares. You just realize it doesn’t matter what people think of you.”

On deciding to launch GOOP: “When you go to Paris and your concierge sends you to some restaurant because they get a kickback, it’s like, No. Where should I really be? Where is the great bar with organic wine? Where do I get a bikini wax in Paris? People know that I know that…”

On going public with her personal care regimens: “It’s so much easier to sit home and not exercise and criticize other people. What I love is inspiring people. People come up to me and say, ‘I want to have two kids and wear a bathing suit and not feel terrible about myself. I see how hard you work and it makes me feel like I can do that too.’”

It may surprise you, Gwyneth, but most of Middle America isn’t going to Europe to get their snatch waxed. And most of Middle America is too worried about how they’re gonna raise their kids after losing their jobs to worry about how those kids ruined their swimsuit figure. It’s called “reality.” More people would like you if you spent any time in it.

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Megan Fox graces the cover and stars in a five-page pictorial inside the August issue of Elle China. It seems we weren’t the only ones under the impression that she was Asian now.

I didn’t think any Parisian fashion houses designed with the massive rear end in mind, but rapper Nicki Minaj managed to stuff her ass into some haute couture in the May issue of Elle magazine. It’s good to know you can have more crack than a drug dealer and still dress like a white girl with a house in the Hamptons. I think Martin Luther King, Jr. would be proud.

I know you’re wondering right now — how did I know this issue of Elle was Korean if I don’t read foreignese? Because I bought it from a convenience store next to a dry cleaners, that’s how. If that’s not fucking Korean, I don’t know what is.

Jessica Alba not getting a spa pedicure in the June issue of Korean Elle:

I agree 100% with Miranda Kerr’s stance on pants — I’m against them. A new, trouser-less era is dawning! How long will you remain a slave to the establishment and their pants-centric oppression? Join my revolution, and together we will send the pinking shears of the people’s will slicing through the pleated chinos of corporate bureaucracy!

In the June Body Issue of Elle:

On this historical day in American legislation, I would like to remind you all of something President Gerald Ford once said: “”If the government is big enough to give you everything you want, it is big enough to take away everything you have.” Be careful what you wish for, folks. Unless you happen to wish for pictures of Bar Refaeli topless, in which case I applaud you in your quest and give you my blessing.

One more from next month’s Elle; the rest from the April issue of Chi magazine:

Victoria’s Secret model Alessandra Ambrosio is in this month’s French Elle, and blah blah blahbitty blahbitty blah blah seriously, if you’re still reading words at this point, it’s time to invest in an Aphex Twin album and an International Male catalog, because you’re fucking gayer than Rainbow Christmas. Fact.

You’re welcome:

Country singer Taylor Swift sports an edgier, flat-ironed ‘do in next month’s issue of Elle magazine. I have to say, it’s a real improvement. I had no idea how much better going straight would be. Which, incidentally, are eleven words you’ll never hear come out of Matthew Broderick’s mouth in succession. Not without him dissolving into a fit of giggles and a lot of frantic hand-flapping, anyway.

Scarlett Johansson graces the cover of next month’s Elle Canada, which poses an interesting question: why would Elle have a Canadian edition? Canada is about the least fashionable country ever, right behind Turkmenistan and The Federated States of Micronesia. There’s only so much you can write about the versatility of the Maple Leaf away-game jersey or the panache that ear flaps add to any woolen hat before it starts to get redundant.

It’s not often that I’m at a loss for words, but these pictures of Olivia Wilde in Elle magazine have just about done the trick. Adjectives fail me. So suffice it to say, “rrrmmmbleghrmmmbleghrrmm.” Motorboating noises are my go-to staple in times of uncomfortably aroused distress.