Tag: Celebrity Fueds

Protected: Casting Rows

Posted by on March 5, 2013 | Comments Off

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Guess This Mess: Eat Edition

Posted by on August 5, 2011 | 5 comments

Ladies FYI Victoria Beckham née Adams aka Posh Spice is the only woman in the world with clearance from the aliens to perpetrate their look and make it work.

And by “make it work”, I’m talking to you LeAnn. No matter how skinny you get, or how you manipulate those bolt-ons, or how many diamond rings you buy yourself, your husband‘s fidelity is up for grabs – as demonstrated by his cheating ways, as perpetrated with you!

Guilt mixed with insecurity – it’s a helluva drug. And I for one believe that THIS IS NOT THE LOOK. Please drop the Jack Skellington look and eat something like a heaping bowl of self confidence!


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Serial Fiction – Adding Fuel to the Make-believe Fire

Posted by on July 26, 2009 | 2 comments

UPDATE 7/26/2009: Fox sets her sights and aims her fangs directly at Zac Efron’s cake.

UPDATE 6/20/09: Life imitates Art Hudgens stalking Fergie?

Serial Fiction – My Day With Vanessa Hudgens Originally Posted June 8, 2009:
Vanessa Hudgens

Homegirl spent the better part of the morning vomiting and crying. She shrieked twenty-first-century Nancy Kerrigan style, “Why? Why Megan Fox? Why not me?” She was eventually persuaded to rise up off the bathroom floor and begin some semblance of a normal day, at least by “celebrity” standards.

The sniffles and intermittent weeping persisted throughout the day. If she had mustered up one tenth that commitment and affability on the craptastic character that made her famous maybe someone other than cheese hungry, beard following tweens would be able to stand her and she might’ve gotten a small role in a Summer Blockbuster or even a spot in a sleeper smash.

Instead she met the end of this day by frantically searching for the real Fergie on Twitter, determined to strike-up a friendship based on a what she hoped would be a shared hatred of Megan Fox – to no avail.

So for now she’ll simply have to be steadied by the comfort clawing with a death grip onto the coat tails of her virginal man friend brings – in this her brief stint of consciousness that she has less of a “career” than does a ribbon wearing cartoon kitten.

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