Stinkin' Thinkin' Linkin'

Quotables Of The NOW:

"This is not a book to be taken lightly, it should be thrown with great force" - a book review by Dorothy Parker

Exclusive Of The NOW:

I'm announcing to all SFP readers tonight that I am in possession of a highly advanced piece of technology. This machine, known as an Online Celebrity Gene Analyzer, can examine a picture of any celebrity and give its operator the true identities of their parents. First, I'm feeding in a picture of Czech model, Petra Nemcova.

WOW! Who would have thought? Surprisingly enough, Natalie's actually her mother and Xena's her father - would have thought it was the other way around.

Next, I'm curious about Shia Labeouf...


Okay, so that wasn't so surprising. I mean, who couldn't feel the sexual tension between Fozzy and Kermit? And who hasn't done some regrettable things while being spurred on by Mr. Jim Bean, or his good friend, Mr. Jack Daniels? It's unfortunate that Shia seems to have inherited the curse of alcoholism.

Links Of The NOW:

Pamela Anderson's love of fake breasts continues. (Jossip)

We can all thank Henry Cavill of The Tudors for teaching us about history - before this show, I never knew how many people did it doggy-style back then. Go figure! (Just Jared)

Katie Holmes is still trying to find the other Pink Ladies. (Popsugar)

What's all the hubbub about Lindsey Lohan dating D.J. Quals? What? Wait... huh? That's silly, he's not a real DJ. NO WAY! That's a woman!?!? (Dlisted)


Oh, Ed... Your purse doesn't match your shoes. All this pretending to be straight stuff is well and good, but you're loosing princess points here. (INF Daily)

Sweater vest gets promoted to tuxedo jacket by J.C. Chasez. (Go Fug Yourself)

C-sections as fashion statement. The statement: WTF? (Crunk + Disorderly)

Anyone else remember Michelin Man Smurf? (Pink Sheep of the Family)

Look who we've got our Hanes on now. (Candy Kirby)

I've decided I'm not gay. My judgment was clouded when I made the decision to be gay and I was confused by my love of techno songs that last thirty-six minutes, ultra-tight shirts, paying twelve dollar for a single cocktail and having people shout random slurs at me through car windows. (Radar)

I Hope There's Beer in Hell, and by hell, I mean the movie theater. I'm either going to need a bottle in front of me or a full-frontal lobotomy to enjoy this cinematic abortion. (Gawker)

Rant Of The NOW:

Can I just tell you that I hate the song Magic by Robin Thicke? I don't hate it cause it's a bad song, but because I have to hear it 96 times on permanent repeat in every damn gay man's car. It's like 1999 and Livin' La Vida Loca all over again. After hearing that damn song for the 100th time in thirty minutes, I was longing for that "bullet through (my) brain".