Hello and Goodbye

Okay, so it must be painfully obvious by now that I don’t really have any time to keep up with the blogging.   But thanks for hanging out with me the past two years or so; it’s been fun and I’ve met a few people who have changed my life for the better.

Best wishes for all, especially the hot and magically delicious slags who left comments now and then. 

The dingo sucketh perpetually,

Anners

Kate Bozzers!

Kate Bozzers went to the Global Green Oscar Party the other night and she wore this dress.  I’m not quite sure how I feel about the dress, but she didn’t look bad in it; she’s just gangster like that.

I think Whorelando Bloom was supposed to to to this event, but perhaps he wasn’t invited this year.  

It would have been hot if he had gone, though, and they ran into each other.   Can you imagine what sort of exchange would have occurred?

I can.  

Sorry in advance.

 

Important News

Rachel Bilson and Hayden Christensen are engaged or something.   I don’t think any official statements have been put forth, but who cares about that?   Actually, who cares about any of this?

I wonder where they were eating when this glorious picture was taken, btw?  Looks posh.

In related news, Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy are also engaged, but I’m certain you can’t care about that, either.  

 

Worthless

Bar Refaeli, pat your slag self on the back!   You just made the cover of Sports Illasstrated’s “Swimsuit Issue” and that’s certainly something to be proud of.   And don’t you look proud.  

I’m almost embarrassed for you.

 

Enough Already

This whole entire Chris Brown and Rihanna situation is getting on my ephing nerves!   Chris Brown has some ephing issues and he needs to go to Boot Camp. 

Rihanna needs to rest up, get well, and never ever ever date a man with violent tendencies.   I mean, if your dude shows a penchant for wrath, even if it’s concerning having to wait in a long line at the grocery store, take that as a sign.

The present predicts the future. 

If your dude curses you out because you accidentally changed the channel when his sports were on, take that as a sign.

I don’t really care what or who started the GD fight (Paris Hilton? Some slag named Keisha? Lillith?) or what it was about.

You don’t hit your lover, okay?     

All I know was that the two of them were driving through Hancock Park (my favorite residential neighborhood in Los Angeles, btw), there was arguing, they pulled over, things got physical outside the car, someone called the police, someone ran,  someone  went to the emergency room, someone got booked for battery, and that Jay-Z  would love to punch Chris Brown in the head.

I really don’t need any further updates about this.

Sorcery

Ahoy!

I understand that Kate Bozzers and her hot Amish boyfriend, Jamers Rousseau are a big phat vanilla bore for 94% of the world.  That’s fine!   But I’ve been having a series of night terrors ever since it was reported in some GD gossip column that these two darlings had split up and that Katers was  sheet-dancing with some less pulchritudinous bloke (who shall remain nameless mostly because I forget what his name is). 

Nice to know thatI can rest easy in my bed tonight.

 

Joaquin Phoenix Is Hot Stuff

Joaquin Phoenix was on David Letterman’s show last night and he freaked out the whole entire world or something because I keep running into clips of it accompanied by comments of this nature:  “OMG, he’s insane!”  or “It’s a phreaking  joke, duh!”

Whatever.

Some may have found his appearance awkward and uncomfortable, but I loved each and every moment of it because it was awesome.  Is it weird that I would be totally comfortable chillaxing  with this man?  Because I think I would.

katers preggers

it makes me sad as hell that kate is preggers. (even tho there is no confirmation from her people, i just know it’s tru) here she is leaving the ivy (in london) last night. how far along does she look? i hope she gives birth to a leopard.

The Dingo Respondeth

 

All right.   So the dingo has responded to your questions. 

 

Ask The Dingo

 

A few posts ago I asked you slutcrakers to email me if you thought you might want to contribute to the blog (it’s like, extremely hard to post on a regular basis with the demands of grad school placed upon you). 

Whatevers.

 Anyway, here’s your proof that the dingHo regularly haunts our blogs:  The slapper  emailed me!  

The dingo has informed me that she would like to do an advice column.   Since she’s living the life, phucking Whorelando Bloom, writing a self-help book, and earning money by limping along in her knickers, she’s a veritable fount of wisdom.

Have a question about the vicissitudes of life?  Questioning the existence of a God (because if there was a God, why oh why, did he create people like her?!)?  Feeling broken-hearted and down-trodden?  Nervous about nothing in particular, like, all of the time?  Have a psychotic, cross-dressing  brother?  Do you want to come clean and break the fact that you’re a slut to your family and still have them be nothing but proud of you?  Want to punch Whorelando Bloom, the slags at JJ, Jared, Mayphrayn and Porzia  in the thorax in one fell swoop?   Don’t know why your whore of a boyfriend treats you like shit in the press?  Hate Kate Bosworth and all that she represents?  

 Ask the Dingo!

The Dingo is open to helping you sort things out!  Just leave  your question in the comments and she’ll (coyly) answer a few of them in a post that should be up just as soon as she figures out how to pull her giant head out of her stupid arse.

It’s Milla !

Babyrazzi.com, huh?   That is all sorts of weird.  

Anyway, here’s some shots of Milla Yo, Ya bitch! and her little girl-child chillaxing for no other reason than the fact that Milla is cool beans.

 

Katie Looks Creepie

Katie Holme’s Miu Miu ads look asinine and demented, but it’s not like I was expecting much more than that.   Here are some of them, filched straight from ONTD.  It’s sort of phunny that these pics look they were taken on Pluto seeing that Katie is married to an extra-terrestrial. 

What the hell was Miuccia Prada thinking when she signed this robot-slave up for this?     

Epic Phail.