Jennifer Aniston and her “The Bounty Hunter” co-star Gerard Butler did a sweaty desert shoot for next month’s W Magazine, and from what I can tell, Jennifer is supposed to be the prostitute and Gerard the john in the pictorial. Like in this picture, where she’s counting the cash, and then this one, where she’s being hauled away by the cops. In real life, Jennifer would never waste valuable time counting money. She’d be too busy scouring the seats for any residual semen that she could scrape into a test tube and take to a lab. I guess the photographers at W Magazine were going for a tongue-in-cheek kinda thing.

There’s something different about Madonna’s face in this pic on the left from last year’s W Magazine photo shoot. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but if I could, I bet it’d come back smelling like mustache wax and estrogen cream. Bitch looks like an old catcher’s mitt that somebody left out in the rain for six weeks.

See boyfriend Jesus’ wiener here.

Rihanna is featured in the February 2010 issue of W magazine, and she talks about her latest album, “Rated R” and opens up a little about how she’s recovering from her messy relationship with Chris Brown.  She does not, sadly, offer an explanation for her Kate Gosselin-esque hair.

On the media circus following the assault, and her refusal to comment publicly at the time:

Looking back, she says she is proud of herself for remaining the quiet eye of the storm. “Not talking was a big thing for me,” says Rihanna, whose 13th tattoo, procured on Avenue B in New York’s East Village just the night before this interview, is visible, still raised and reddened, on the right side of her collarbone. It reads never a failure, always a lesson, but backward so she can read it when she looks in the mirror. “I’m glad I didn’t talk to people, because I was able to deal with things in my own way, without saying the wrong things or giving people the wrong impression.”

On how she coped afterward:

“I started to go crazy after about a month in the house,” she says of the time after her split from Brown, “so I went back to work, and the mic was my therapist. With the mic, there were no negative comments, no negative energy.”

“At first I completely shut down. But now I feel like this happened to me so I could be a voice for young girls who are going through what I went through and don’t know how to talk about it,” she says. “It’s not about Chris, about hurting him or sabotaging his career. I don’t care about that part of it.”

On her latest album, “Rated R”, which was inspired by the collapse of her relationship with Brown:

“This was a different type of record for me,” she says in her steady island lilt, sitting in a backstage dressing room after taping a BET show. “It was really personal; it was from me in the most authentic way. It’s like a movie”—hence the title—“in that when I was making this album, every day I was in a different mood. Sometimes I was pissed off, sometimes I was miserable, and every song brings out a different story.”

“It’s still hard to listen to certain songs,” she admits. “Certain ones I couldn’t even record—I’d keep pushing them back [on the schedule].” There was one track in particular she had a hard time facing. Called “The Last Song,” it has lyrics that read like the final goodbye to a great love. “When the label finally said we had 12 hours to turn in the album, I was like, Okay, I have to do it. I just drank some red wine, dimmed the lights, got in the booth and sang it.”

Rihanna in the February 2010 issue of W:

Actress and former face of Lancome cosmetics Uma Thurman attempts “bordello sexy” in a spread for next months’ W magazine. The Daily Mail says

The 39-year-old smoulders on a couch clad in a feathered stole, and black stockings and suspenders in a photoshoot for W magazine.

The 39-year-old looks like a tragic actress on the way down the greasy pole of celebrity.

“Greasy pole of celebrity?” Funny, I always just called him “Mickey Rourke.” To each his own, I guess.

Bonus pics of Kim Kardashian in — what else? — a bikini:

We’re picking up right where we left off with those pictures Brad took of Angelina in the art issue of W Magazine, right at the see-through nipple and crack part (or “the good part” as it’s referred to in elite photography circles). Witness how Brad transformed the above picture from “shitty photograph” to “highbrow art” simply by adhering to these four basic rules:

1.) Only use black and white film

2.) Three words: overexpose, overexpose, overexpose!!

3.) Intentionally blur the subject by using a shutter speed of 1/60 or longer (or get your Grandma with Parkinson’s to hold the camera), and lastly

4.) Make sure there’s a naked or almost-naked chick in the photograph

And there you have it! Stay tuned for next week’s Shortcut to Success lesson, where we’ll be tackling the finer points of turning “mindless celebrity gossip” into “thought-provoking social satire!”

Ever wondered what an (NSFW) hemorrhoid might look like if it had eyes and a nose and could talk back to you? Well, wonder no more, my friends.

More of Brad Pitt’s candids of Angelina and the kids in the art issue of W Magazine:

Good morning, children!  This is Sarah.  Abby has the rest of the day off, so you’re stuck with me.  As consolation, I present to you: boobs.  Well, one boob, anyway.  And you can’t really see it, actually.  I guess really it’s just some side boob… listen, this ain’t Playboy, ok?  We peddle flesh, sure, but we’re KLASSY up in here, and don’t you forget it.  Moving on…

November’s W Magazine will contain personal photos taken by Brad Pitt of Angelina Jolie with the twins, Knox and Vivienne, including the cover shot of Angelina nursing one of them.  No, I don’t know which one, but if you want to be all Creeptastic Nancy Drew then I suppose you could try to identify the baby by that disembodied tiny tot hand, which apparently has only three fingers… are these twins part Muppet?  Whatever, I bet Angie and Brad could fashion children out of twigs, straw, mud and saliva the way birds build houses, and they’d still be the cutest kids in the universe.  I’m no geneticist, but I’m pretty sure those two contain beautiful, beautiful supergenes which are so dominant, they could probably each lay a hand on Michael Jackson and, through the power of touch alone, fix the eight thousand things wrong with his face.

Aaaanyway, the point here is that Brad Pitt would like for you to know that Angelina Jolie not only has breasts, but that they function and he can look at them whenever he wants.  He would like you to witness the contented smile on Angie’s face as he photographs her with only half a shirt on.  He apparently feels that three squalling beings as physical evidence of their intimacy is insufficient, and he would like to further rub it in your face that THIS is what sprawls out in bed next to him every night.  Somewhere, Jennifer Aniston is totally sobbing into a plate full of cake, washing it down with a fifth of vodka and drunk dialing John Mayer.