Have you yet found yourself exposed to the exquisitely disturbing reports/rumors? That poor monkey-loving Michael Jackson and those (allegedly) fraudulently redirected 9/11 charity funds are now bound up with gay hardcore porn somehow?
Don't answer that. Scientologists. Everywhere.
And did I mention "alleged"? Of course I did.
I can't remember if it was Naomi or Wynonna Judd who was just arrested for D'ing while U the I (come on, kids--glug, glug, vroom, vroom--keep up here). It wasn't the Judd with the weird liver problems (yet). Whatever. The whole affair really does make one wonder why cops are out arresting tipsy Judds instead of real criminals, like homeless mothers and George W. Bush. Not that I condone drunk driving. I don't condone driving at all.
Except piledriving, naturally. Which brings us once again to Ashton Kutcher's ass.
If Ashton's anxious bitching drives Demi from his door, I'll be disillusioned, pissed, and profoundly sexually excited. Alternately. But I'm sure that all those crazy rumors that Ashton waxes as anxious as heat rash at an aloe vera convention whenever Bruce what's-his-face comes sniffing around (probably to visit his three kids), and that he endlessly frets that his ascension to starhood is due solely to his tryst with Ms. Moore, and that all of his (alleged) insane insecurity is inspiring some serious relationship-threatening spats between them... well, those crazy rumors just can't be true, can they?
And I wonder who Pink thinks she's kidding by conspicuously Frenching Tommy fricking Lee at a packed nightclub after that humid, widely reported (by me, mostly) public face-sucking she just gave terminatrix Kristanna Loken? Her mom, maybe?