According to the cover of next month’s Maxim, Jennifer Love Hewitt has a naughty secret! And that secret is clearly photoshop. P.S. it’s no fucking secret, either. We all know what you look like in real life.

Sophie Monk is barely D-list, but she looks fantastic in a bikini, so here you go. Pandering to the lowest common denominator is practically an art for me now.

In the February issue of Maxim Australia:

After all the hullabaloo and brewhaha (yes, people say “hullabaloo” and “brewhaha”) surrounding Alec Baldwin’s unceremonious removal from an American Airlines flight last week, the Thirty Rock actor decided to make an appearance on this weekend’s Saturday Night Live to issue a public apology… to himself… as Captain Steve Rogers, the pilot of the flight he delayed because he refused to turn off his damn phone before takeoff. After apologizing to himself profusely, he actually says at one point, “Alec Baldwin is an American treasure,” which would have been hilariously tongue-in-cheek had I not thought he honestly believed every fucking word he was saying.

SNL’s Abby Elliott in next month’s Maxim:

The only thing good I can say about these pictures of “Jersey Shore’s” Jenni “JWoww” Farley in a bikini is at least they’re not pictures of Deena in a bikini. Trust me, you really dodged a bullet there.

If you’re feeling brave, see Deena in all her 5’2″ 180 lb glory in a bikini after the jump:

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“Children’s Hospital” star Lake Bell has soaking wet spread on next month’s Maxim, but as you can plainly see, the bastards photoshopped out her nipples. I don’t get it. It’d make a whole lot more sense to photoshop out the “Can You Throw a Fastball Drunk?” in big orange letters right next to her. I guess if you’re stupid enough to buy a magazine with no nipples, you’re also stupid enough to think throwing a fastball drunk is cool. Duly noted, Maxim.

Actress Rachel Nichols models a series of skimpy bikinis for next month’s issue of Maxim magazine. You know, Rachel Nichols? Of “G.I. Joe” and “Criminal Minds” fame? Okay, maybe the word “fame” is a little inaccurate. I probably should have gone with “Rachel Nichols of the one of those girls who looks vaguely familiar but whose name you can’t place but has an awesome rack so stop your whining and just look at the pics already you big fat crybaby” instead.

Here’s unimportant blonde person Sophie Monk in a bikini in some foreign edition of Maxim magazine. This is usually the part where I would write more words, but frankly, she’s not that important.

The only reason I would ever knowingly purchase a copy of Maxim is for these pics of Transformers 3 star Rosie Huntington-Whiteley in her skivvies. Otherwise, I’d have to have amoebic dysentery during a city-wide toilet paper shortage before I’d ever plunk down five bucks for Maxim magazine.

PHOTO SOURCE: Maxim

“Bad Teacher” doesn’t hit theaters until next month, but Cameron Diaz is already re-creating some of the film’s highlights for next month’s Maxim. Suffice it to say, this movie is gonna suck. I’ve been more aroused finding a band-aid in my salad. Both of them made me want to throw up, but at least the band-aid meant I got a free meal.

Diora Baird’s spread in Maxim’s March 2011 issue clearly leaves the boundaries of reality far behind. Who does yardwork topless, or in a bikini and heels? Real women know that there’s nothing sexy about getting pelted by little bitty rocks kicked up by the weedwhacker, or have little gnats sticking to your lipstick while you’re mowing the lawn. Believe me, I know. My husband was drooling over these pictures, so I tried it out myself to get him to pay attention to me, and all I ended up with was a bunch of welts and little gnat corpses in my mouth. SO unrealistic.

Welt and gnat-free:

I don’t care how many bikini shoots Jordana Brewster does for crappy men’s magazines — it still doesn’t atone for Fast and the Furious. That requires a full-on naked apology. Nothing says I’m sorry like nipples!

In the May issue of Maxim:

Large-breasted women often say that the problem with having a big rack is that guys always end up staring at your boobs instead of your face. In Eva Amurri’s case, I think that might actually be more of a blessing.

In the April 2011 issue of Maxim: