Ugh! "Young love," right? All those (ew) "hormones" and "lack of life experience" and "hopefulness for the future"... BLECH! We're just so glad we're not that little 20-year-old pop starlet/Disney actress Selena Gomez who's having a dickens of a time breaking up with that little boy with the hair... oh, what's his name? Ah! Justin Bieber. As we recently gabbed, SelGo gave JBiebs the heave-ho after reportedly witnessing him lusting after a Victoria Secret's model—and ever since? The jilted lad has been trying to woo the Disney princess back into his hairless pre-pubescent arms. According to TMZ, Biebs has been texting her to the point where she finally agreed to meet him on Sunday at a NYC hotel for a relationship summit on whether they should get back together. The answer? No dice, pretty boy! Selena reportedly remains unconvinced of the viability of their relationship, and spent the majority of today blocking and Bieb-proofing all her communication devices. UGH! Does that mean we can expect Justin to record a slew of Taylor Swift/Kelly Clarkson/Justin Timberlake-style heartbreak songs? Young people, listen carefully: NO... ONE... CARES about your stupid high school drama! For once, just let it go! IN A RELATED STORY... We're old and jealous. MEANWHILE... Well, well, well... look who's cavorting in public? Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart arrived TOGETHER at tonight's Los Angeles premiere of Breaking Dawn: Part 2, holding hands and looking as cuddly as two lovebirds who nearly imploded because of a very public cheating scandal can be. RPatz was dressed in a very dapper and slimming green Gucci suit, while KStew was wearing a nude Zuhair Murad gown that... wait. Is that someone else's sperm on her dress? HA! Made Kristen look.
New news from America's most fucked up family—the Lohans! Part-time dad/full-time creep Michael Lohan appeared on some sort of daytime chat program we've never heard of called The Trisha Goddard Show (?) in which he agreed to take a paternity test—no, not in regards to Lindsay. This time he was being tested to see if he's the biological father of 17-year-old Ashley Horn—the daughter of a woman he admits to having sex with back in 1995. According to mama Kristi Horn, she unsuccessfully tried to inform deadbeat daddy Lohan of his daughter and asked him to pay child support several times—though Michael vehemently denies all charges. Well, as the three sat there together on The Trisha Goddard Show (Seriously, is this program on Canadian TV or something? We can't find it!) the results came back, and... "Michael Lohan? YOU ARE THE FATHER!" Cue Lohan's fake shock, and then his attempts to hug his newfound progeny. "No! No! NO!" the daughter screamed in horror as Papa Lohan tried to take her in his arms. "I just want to hug you," Lohan pleaded. Heh... heh... hehhhhh. IN A RELATED STORY... In response to hearing today's news, Lindsay Lohan asked for a "reverse paternity test." We don't think she understands what a paternity test is.
In a sad attempt by People magazine to stir our withered ovaries back to life, they announced their 2012 "Sexiest Man Alive" to be movie hunk Channing Tatum. (One champagne popper goes off. The honk of a party horn. A single strand of confetti falls listlessly from the ceiling. And across America, a huge sigh of disappointment. However, since today was a slow gossip day, we'll momentarily maintain the façade of excitement.) Says People: "[Tatum] is also a sculptor who quotes Edgar Allan Poe, loves to give massages, and can't wait to start a family." Anything happening down there, ovaries? No? Fine, let's continue. "Tatum is all heart and muscle at 195 lbs. 'I like to be lean,' he says. 'If I get too bulky I can't move well and I like to move.'" Nothing, ovaries? Okay, then. Onward we go. "People know [Tatum] to be fun and sexy—but they don't know how emotionally deep and spiritually open he is." Anything, ovaries? Anything at all? Wait. WAIT! They're stirring! We can't believe it! Our long barren, dried sacks of dusty eggs are actually moving, and... oh, never mind. They were just reaching for the Kit Kat bar I ate this morning. False alarm.
Are your ovaries dry and dusty, too? This could be the reason why: According to Us magazine, whenever Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt visit his hometown of Springfield, Mo., the pair takes their six children to the local pizza parlor to let them run wild and "enjoy themselves." "The place shuts down for the entire night and the kids raise a ruckus," a restaurant insider tells the magazine. "They jump on tables and even throw food at each other." In response our ovaries said, "See? That's why. We're gonna take a nap, now... see if you can drum us up another Kit Kat."
In all of hiphop's feuds—Ice Cube and N.W.A., Dre and Easy-E, Biggie and Tupac—none even come close to the beef between Jay-Z and Robert De Niro. Wait. What? Oh, yeah: Robert De Niro hates Jay-Z—because Jay-Z once told De Niro he'd record a song for De Niro's Tribeca Film Festival, but then never called De Niro back! Shit got real earlier this week at Leonardo DiCaprio's birthday party, where, a source tells Page Six, "Bob was sitting at a table, and when Jay-Z went over to say hello, De Niro told Jay that he never called him back. He told Jay that if somebody calls you six times, you call them back." Jay-Z—who was likely bewildered as to why an old white man was lecturing him about telephone manners—tried to joke about it, but De Niro wasn't having it. The source added, "He can be quite scary when he's angry." In conclusion, here's hoping there's a Robert De Niro diss track on Jay-Z's next album! Maybe Jay-Z could just list De Niro's crappiest movies—Analyze This, Meet the Parents, Analyze That, Meet the Fockers—followed by the line, "'Sup Bob, I just call 'em like I see 'em." (Jay-Z: Please contact Ann Romano, c/o this publication, for any and all royalty payments. Mwah!)
"Animal wranglers involved in the making of The Hobbit movie trilogy say the production company is responsible for the deaths of up to 27 animals, largely because they were kept at a farm filled with bluffs, sinkholes, and other 'death traps,'" the Associated Press reports. Why, this is a horrible crime worthy of... um... hold on a mo, dears. We need to ask for a nerd reference. "This is a horrible crime worthy of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor!" Naturally, the whistle-blowers were the only group of people more annoying than Lord of the Rings dorks. "We want to send a clear message to Hollywood that they need to be very careful when using animals," Kathy Guillermo of PETA scolded. But where was PETA when it came to the orcs, goblins, the Uruk-hai, Nazgûl, fell beasts, Shelobs—" MOVING ON.
This weekend, chaos struck a plane Rihanna had chartered to take 250 fans and members of the press along with her on her "777 Tour," which has the dimwit starlet performing seven shows in seven countries in seven days. The only problem? The plane was beset by delay after delay. The tension finally broke when Ri-Ri decided to be three hours late for the flight from Berlin to London—and, as luck would have it, former Mercury music editor Julianne Escobedo Shepherd was onboard! "Everyone in coach lost their collective minds simultaneously," Shepherd wrote for Spin. "Psychologists will study the footage for years to come.... You could hear the collective snap as people just began chanting and clapping, screaming, until all the crazy unified into a single plane-sized globule." Label officials looked on helplessly as drunken, "complete chaos" took over the plane, culminating in an unnamed Australian streaking "the entirety of coach, racing up one aisle and down the other," Shepherd wrote. "I can never unsee his ass, I buried my face in my blanket not to look at his balls, and then I puked into it from coughing so hard. I was sober. Did I mention I have pneumonia?" Shepherd adds that the plane's passengers were then crammed onto a bus for a 14-hour-long ride to London. At least as things wound down, Shepherd notes there was one upside. "Tanya, one of the plane's excellent flight attendants, brought back a bottle of cognac. "'It's Jay-Z's,' she said.