Sep 10, 2008
Amy Winehouse stayed true to form last weekend, getting so fucked up after a festival gig that she had to be hauled out of her hotel room wrapped in a duvet. According to The Sun
The star, 24 — who binged until 5am after ordering 48 bottles of whiskey for her gig — was wrapped up in the duvet and carried away on a minder’s shoulder after being booted out by hotel bosses.
Amy’s entire entourage were barred from the Wellington Hotel for destroying her room and shouting at staff and guests. The hotel said they caused [$10,000] of damage, burning furniture with cigarette butts and covering carpets with booze.
You could blindfold a baboon with flame-thrower and hand it a paint gun and it still wouldn’t do as much damage to a hotel room as Amy Winehouse drunk. Give it time, though. I’m sure Amy will figure out the power you can wield when throwing your own feces. I know I sure have!
Feb 22, 2008
Since she checked out of rehab two weeks ago, singer Amy Winehouse has been living in a suite at the Riverbank Plaza Hotel in London without ever allowing the staff in to clean. Management finally let themselves in while she was perfoming at the Brits and discovered several thousand dollars worth of damage to the room and mounds of dirty underpants all over the floor. The Sun quotes a staff member of the prestigious hotel as saying:
“It was covered in booze and [cigarette] butts, absolutely disgusting. The bed hadn’t been changed since she arrived and most of the room had been used as an ashtray. There was dirty underwear everywhere and the place smelt. She had taken a mirror off the wall and laid it on the floor. One can only guess what for. The bath had to be scrubbed and unblocked from balls of matted hair. It took three maids two hours to get it in a habitable order.”
She reminds me a lot of Pig Pen from Charlie Brown. Only instead of little stink lines and specks of dirt, there’d be a cloud of syringes and cigarette butts and soiled panties swirling about wherever she went. Someone really ought to take a page from Leviticus and make her wear a bell around her neck and shout “unclean! unclean!” like the lepers back in Bible times. Abject humiliation works like a charm. I know it sure helped my parents with the finer points of potty-training me and my sister. Trust me, it only takes one time of being sent to school in the pants you just crapped with a bell and strict instructions to announce your befoulment to any classmate who came too close for you to never have an accident again. Like my mom always said, if it’s good enough for Moses, it’s damn well good enough for you.
Amy performing Wednesday while the cleaning staff waded through her dirty underpants:
Jan 2, 2008
Lindsay Lohan apparently only has one standard when it comes to potential lovers in Capri — that they have a penis. Hear that, old, fat and hairy? That’s the sound of Lohan legs spreading for you! The Daily Mail says
Actor Dario Faiella… made it back to her [hotel] room. She had been all over him earlier in the evening at a nightclub, snogging him before launching herself on top of him as they got physical on the nightclub sofa. Li-Lo was clearly smitten with her choice, [showing] an undressed Faiella her appreciation with a loving hand on his derriére out on her room balcony.
All that old bastard’s missing is a tattered bathrobe and a pack of Merit Ultra Lights and he could be my Uncle Frank. He looks like he ought to be laid out in a Lazy Boy with a hand down his pants, pouring nacho cheese straight out of the jar into his mouth and farting from time to time. God, that chick is a slut. I bet if you tossed a handful of pubes on a Christmas ham, Lindsay would crawl up on to the table and start dry-humping it right there in front of everybody. That’s when a good rolled up newspaper to the nose and a stern “Lindsay, NO!” are in order. If you happen across a pile of feces, you should also probably rub her face in it.
