When two rival bands of dwarves fight, nobody wins. Well, I guess unless you happen to witness it in person. In that case I bet it’d be hilarious.
Anyway. The 4’4" lead singer of the KISS tribute band Mini Kiss, Joey Fatale, is denying reports that he tried to sneak past security at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas to confront 4′ "Little" Tim Loomis of Tiny Kiss for ripping off his idea for a group. It’s not revealed how Fatale attempted to get past security, but it’s assumed he either crawled under a snack cart, hid beneath a blanket in a baby carriage, or stuffed himself in somebody’s guitar case like they do in the movies.
While Little Loomis claims he had Fatale thrown out of the hotel, Fatale insists that he left on his own. The two men used to be friends (Little was the original drummer for Mini before starting Tiny), so it’s a shame like a little tiny thing like this would come between them. I’m a teensy bit upset. Granted it’s a small world, but a little competition never hurt anyone. Hopefully they grow from this. Because life is short.
[read the full story here]
To continue with today’s unofficial porn-y theme, it has recently come to my attention that Vanity Fair, a one-time respected outpost of grocery line journalism, is devolving into a total smut mag. Last month’s "Hollywood" issue had nudie pics of Sienna Miller’s boobs, Angelina Jolie’s bottom, and of course the infamous Scarlett Johanssen/Kiera Knightley/Random Dude nekkid cover.
Now this month VF is back to their pornographic ways with inexplicable naked pictures of Felicity’s Keri Russell. Stay on the lookout next month for their 8-page pictorial of Sharon Stone’s vagina!
Milwaukee’s "The Beast" Best has created one of the funniest viral games I’ve ever seen. The objective is simple: check out your buddy’s hot girlfriend’s cleavage for as long as possible without getting busted. But be warned – this game is as hypnotic as looking at real cleavage.
(via Office Pirates)
At Hugh Hefner’s 80th birthday party, Paris HIlton was able to do the unthinkable: Out-Whore all the Bunnies, Pornstars and everybody else at the Playboy Mansion. What a woman!
If you head over to Playboy.com’s Happy Birthday Hef page and watch the Celebrity Shout-Outs and Serenades you’ll see what I mean. Towards the end of the video a nearly-naked Paris belts out a version of "Happy Birthday" that’s going to make Hef think about Marilyn Monroe… and how lucky she is to be dead.
"I love you Hef. You’re amazing. You’re 80 but you act like you’re 20, you look like you’re 40. You’re hot. Love you. Happy birthday."
Happy birthday indeed, Hef. Happy birthday indeed.
[Other celebs wishing Hef a happy birthday in the video: Donald Trump, The Three-6 Mafia, Jenna Jameson, Travis Barker & Shanna Moakler, Bill Maher, and Oliver Stone]
When Tom Cruise flew his vintage World War II plane this weekend as Katie Holmes prepared to give birth, it got me thinking: What is the deal with crazy celebrities and their planes?
If Tom’s trying to change public opinion about his creepiness, it doesn’t help when he throws on his bomber jacket ala Maverick and takes his fighter pilot for a spin.
And why the hell does John Travolta always wear a pilot’s suit? I mean I know he can fly a plane but does that mean I should salute him like an American hero? If I had a lot of money and lived in Jumbolair, a village that doubles as a landing strip, then I would probably learn to fly too.
Who isn’t sick of those obnoxious "blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah… Priceless" Mastercard commercials? I feel like I can’t even remember a world pre-Priceless commercials, as much as I’d like to. Well, even though I’m aggrevated, that’s not going to stop me from entering the Mastercard Priceless Contest. "You fill in the blanks, we’ll air the best one." Right.
Something tells me they’re not going to go with the "best one." If you’ve seen any of these parodies, you know what I’m talking about. I have a feeling the winning entry we see on television won’t contain a passed-out pantless woman, a visible public erection, or a dorky guy with a Mangina. Call it a hunch. [You can see all of these, and oh-so-much more, over at HumpingFrog] Priceless indeed.
Sorry Hollywood execs, but Frankie Muniz won’t be starring in your next big blockbuster romantic action thriller. We’re saddened to announce that the 20 year-old Malcom in the Middle star, who happens to be suspended in mid-puberty, is giving up acting for the next couple of years to persue race-car driving.
We know, he would have been perfect as the next James Bond or as a surly but dashing British baron in the next Jane Austen adaptation. Sorry ladies, this bad-boy has only one true love: fast cars (and his retainer –it’s zebra-patterned!)