Pulling a page from the Michael Jackson playbook, Clay Aiken has knocked up a woman - but without dealing with her “icky parts.” The mother-to-be is a record producer in her late-40’s that has worked on several of Clay’s albums. TMZ has the breaking news:
Multiple sources tell us the mother is Jaymes Foster, a record producer and Clay’s best friend. He lives at her home when he’s in L.A. We’re told Foster, who produced several Aiken CDs, is due in August. She’s the sister of record mogul David Foster. We’re told she’s in her late 40’s, though we could not confirm her exact age. She divorced a few years back and has no kids. Aiken is 29.We’re told Foster was artificially inseminated. But Clay is a lot more than sperm — we’re told he will have an active role in raising the child.
Clay Aiken often tries to play down the rumors that he’s gay. But you know what works against that? Knocking up a chick without having vaginal intercourse. That’s sort of the man-meat and potatoes, if you will, of being straight. If a guy is going to be stuck with a kid for the rest of his life, he oughta at least have a story to tell involving whiskey and a trucker named Mabel. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to post-date a child support check. How do you spell “January 2020?”
After making out on P. Diddy’s boat, everyone knows the next step in a same-sex relationship is to introduce your families. But make sure the making out on Diddy’s boat happens first. Otherwise you’re doomed from the get-go. Fortunately, Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson know how this crazy game called “Love” works. People reports:
The duo – who are “together,” a source says in the new issue of PEOPLE – were spotted Wednesday afternoon lunching with Ronson’s writer-mom, Ann Dexter-Jones and Lohan’s sister Ali, 14, at the Italian restaurant Gino’s on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Throughout the meal, the group engaged in a spirited session of girl talk, the source adds.
I love how Ali walks around in these photos trying to cover her face with her hair, and it’s not because of Lindsay. She’s only 14 and has no clue what a frisb-ian is. Ali’s just hoping no one recognizes her from her mom’s show Living Lohan. So, who wants to tell Ali she has a better chance getting attacked by a real live leprechaun? And not just because Tom Cruise is in town. Hi-oh! I’ll be here all week, folks.
Coming in from so far out of left-field I thought it was a football is Sarah McLachlan in a bikini. I gotta admit I fostered a secret crush on Ms. McLachlan seen here vacationing in Maui. In college my computer was loaded with MP3’s of her songs in case I ever tricked seduced a girl into my dorm room for some makin’ out. Sadly, that dream never transpired. It would’ve been better than ice cream! See? I even remember the words. Now, what’s it take for me to touch a boob? I’ll even be romantic about it. (Read: Not yell “Yippee!” then immediately write in my online journal.)
Mariah Carey threw out the opening pitch at the Yomiuri Giants vs Rakuten Eagles match at the Tokyo Dome yesterday, and let’s just say it was the most impressive display of baseball I’ve ever seen in my life. Lord knows why she became a singer and not a professional pitcher. Seriously though, you’d think she would’ve prepared a little before showing up. It’s like instead of practicing throwing balls, she decided to just break both her arms to make sure they wouldn’t function correctly. She could’ve dropped the ball and sort of nudged it with her foot and it would’ve been just as impressive.
Honest Injun, heeding your cries, I’ve been exercising a moratorium on Heidi and Spencer’s horribly retarded candid (but really posed) shots. However, drastic times call for drastic measures. And I’d like to point you to the two drastic measures above. I’m going to step away from my keyboard now because I never type angry/aroused. *SMASH!* Shiiiit, I just knocked over my cubicle. Geekologist, are you alright? I was editing Heidi photos and- Hey! Eyes up here, bud. Nothing technological going on down there. That’s simply nature. And, okay, plutonium.
Steven Tyler is claiming his recent stint in rehab was only to recover from foot surgery and not drug and/or alcohol related. Did I miss a memo about it being Celebrity Bullshit Excuses for Rehab Week? Jesus. Anyway, for those of you who actually care about Aerosmith, here’s Steven’s formal statement to People:
“The doctors told me the pain in my feet could be corrected but it would require a few surgeries over time,” Tyler says in a statement released Thursday. “The ‘foot repair’ pain was intense, greater than I’d anticipated. The months of rehabilitative care and the painful strain of physical therapy were traumatic. I really needed a safe environment to recuperate where I could shut off my phone and get back on my feet. Make no mistake, Aerosmith has no plans to stop rocking. There’s a new album to record, then another tour.”
Foot surgery? Give me a break. Why couldn’t he just say it was depression? Oh, right, Kirsten Dunst used that… Why couldn’t he just say it was foot surgery?
Britney Spears is “not yet fit” to participate in court hearings regarding her conservatorship. To bring everyone up to speed, after Brit’s second trip to Crazytown Mental Ward, her father Jamie was placed in control of her estate and is actually doing a bang-up job. Britney’s attorney Samuel Ingham spent 90 minutes yesterday talking to Commissioner Reva Goetz, according to the AP:
Ingham told the court afterward that Spears’ medical condition is “fluid” because her treatment is changing. Spears’ probate case is scheduled to go to trial July 31, but Ingham said it could be “harmful” for her to participate. Goetz agreed and said Spears’ diagnosis is not complete.
Just so I have this straight: Britney is unable to hear about her finances, but is allowed to have sex with her agent. Is Jamie Spears making sure her vagina stays open for the summer? If so, smart move what with it being vacation season and all. There’s never a more bonding experience than packing up the fam in a camper and visiting our national parks and vaginas. God bless Jamie Spears.
Kim Kardashian has taken umbrage with my clearly scientific debate regarding her buttpads. Check out her latest blog entry (NOTE: I took the liberty of un-editing all the a–’s. My replacements in italics.):
OMG! When will people get off my atrium, literally! Haha. I have said it a million times before and I’ll say it again: My booty is as real as the designer items I’m auctioning off on eBay. The reason I bring this up is because those jokesters at the Superficial claimed that I wear foam panties. NOT TRUE! (And I don’t stuff ‘em with Charmin either). I think my photo shoots clearly prove I don’t wear butt pads! To all you non-believers at the Superficial, kiss my REAL and GORGEOUS amphitheater! XOXO, Kim
I’ve accepted Kim’s challenge and included the Ralph Lauren photo shoot she presents as proof of her natural assy-ness. Now on to the scrutiny!Set 1: You’re either making the most valid argument in the history of debate or really have to pee. Analysis: Inconclusive.Set 2: Do that underwear thing again. I can’t research in these conditions. Analysis: BOO!Set 3: Ha! Mirrors don’t fool me. You’ve been hanging out with Criss Angel, haven’t you? Bad, Kim Kardashian! Bad! Analysis: Not convinced.Set 4: Okay, now you’re just sitting on your butt. If you’re not going to take this thing seriously, I’m taking off my pants. Analysis: I need me a gypsy tent.Set 5: Nipples will only get you everywhere. Analysis: Whatever she says is true.Set 6: Are you trying to knock down that wall? No, wait, you gotta pee again. Lady, go easy on the Aquafina. Christ. Analysis: What were we talking about again? If it’s boobs, I’m all over it.DIAGNOSIS: BUTTPAD!Sorry, Kim, but hey, I’m a reasonable guy. You can invite me over to your house and we’ll make some science. Namely through the time-tested method of my hands/your butt.* But, remember, it’s all for the children. Those sweet, sweet children that I should probably wrangle up. Anyone got a net?*Tears of joy emitted from The Superficial Writer do not invalidate claims of buttpad’s presence. The Superficial Writer also reserves the right to free said buttpad and use it as a decorative throw pillow in a room of his choosing. Buttpad may also double as a frisbee. Whee!
