Who's giving Isaiah Washington a run for his scurrilously homo potty mouth? Hint: She's currently screwing Matt Damon. Plus, Ashley and Pete parade pooped, while Nicole Richie engages in shocking behavior Paris wouldn't even dream of!
“I’m here because there’s a bunch of faggots.”
Sarah Silverman

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Sarah Silverman, keeping it classy as she announced her presence on the red carpet of last Saturday’s GLAAD Media Awards (that’s the Gay and Lesbian Association Against Defamation, for all you non-Chelsea or WeHo inhabitants). No, S2 didn’t pull an Isaiah and inappropriately unleash the ef word—she’s obvs an FOF, friend o’ fagola—and even we grouches can laugh at Silver-babe’s politically incorrect antics. You should, too. Highly recommend it. After all, this is still much less harsh than the stuff she spat back at Spears during last year’s VMAs, remember? Not saying Brit’s befuddled bouncing around didn’t deserve it. At least Sar-bear didn’t speak out of her vagina this time. Now that’s a lady.
Kathy Griffin

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An even funnier gal with even more of a potty mouth was Kathy Griffin, who unveiled another type of F-bomb for the crowd: “Me and all of my assistants, we all want to f--k T.R. Knight. We’re gonna give it one more shot tonight. I’m going to girl-rape him.” Nice try, Kath, but I think Katherine Heigl already marked her territory all over TRK. There’s gotta be another hot homo TV doc who can help dry your tears after your broken engagement to bazillionaire Steve Wozniak. Howsabout Doogie Howser, M.D.?
Wilson Cruz

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I bet Wilson Cruz would split a quiche with ya, cutie—he’s played queer pal to another fiery redhead: Claire Danes' Angela Chase on My So-Called Life. In fact, he almost always plays a fab, flamboyant man, from So-Called's Ricky Vasquez to Angel in Rent. “As an actor, I just want variety and good writing, and I don’t care who they’re sleeping with. But when you’re good at something, you’re good at it. And I’m good at being gay!” Merde, I didn’t know your sexuality was something you had to be skilled in. Should have taken a few more classes back in junior high.
Miley Cyrus

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We threw on our favorite halter tops and hiked over to the Young Hollywood Awards at Avalon in H'wood half expecting every kid 'n' caboodle to be snorting coke lines in the ladies room—it’s what all the celeb kiddies seem to love so much nowadays...a bigger fad than snap bracelets back in the '80s. But instead, there were a whole lot of goody-two-shoes taking up space on the red carpet. Miley Cyrus wasn’t there, so it was pretty scandal free, sorry to say.
Taylor Swift

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We wanted to know when you’re no longer considered young in T-town. (We’re hoping nobody really knows so we can still sneak by, begging somebody to I.D. us when we approach the bar for an Appletini.) Country crooner Taylor Swift, an even younger, blonder version of Carrie Underwood, showed her age while answering our query. “Um...I think when you’re...25?” Thanks for depressing all of us born before 1983, Taylor-babe.
T.S. is at the ripe ol' age of 18, which means she can smoke, vote and make bad life choices that will stay with her forever. Namely, tattoos. “I have my ears pierced. And that’s it,” she added, making sure to separate herself from all the Lindsay Lohan and Amy Winehouse types who slap ink on their skin as if it’s their MySpace profile. Just watch out, Swifty, until Annie Liebowitz traps you in the corner of her studio and tells ya to ditch your duds. Then you won’t need a belly ring or a beehive to catch some controversy in this town.
Ashlee Simpson, Pete Wentz

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Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson, both in all black, Dulles International Airport in Dee-Cee on a Friday night, landing in our nation’s capital to give the White House Correspondents' din-din a smidge of hipster cred. The pretty pair looked pooped, but were supersweet and smiley to our source who wished them congrats on their engagement—tho he refrained from giving best wishes on A.S.’s supposed pregnancy. Guess Desk Dulles shouldn’t assume all of Ash’s vague nonanswers about her possible baby-mama-ness mean she indeed has an in-womb inhabitant? Spawning or no, Ash-babe still looked thin as an eyeliner pencil, clearly modeling her possibly bunned-up oven after Nicole Kidman's barely there bump. Entirely antithetically busting out, and then some, was...
Jennifer Tilly

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Jennifer Tilly, taking in a screening of her vintage flick Relax...It’s Just Sex, at the Miami Gay and Lesbian Film Fest. Jenny had long, fiery red locks, and her hourglass figure was majorly in full effect, ‘natch, in a too-too-tight floral wrap mini. What, you expected her to lock the girls up in a turtleneck? J.T. stuck around for a Q&A with the crowd afterward, tho we wanna know how Jen-hon looks just as fabulous today as she did 10 years ago when Relax was made. Out west, relaxing a little was P. Hilton’s old terrorizing twin...
Joel Madden, Nicole Richie

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Nicole Richie, takin’ off with the rest of SoCal to catch Coachella in Palm Springs. Nic-babe was playing a little golf—think she learned how to swing on The Simple Life, 'cause she didn’t play any rounds back in her socialite days at Social Hollywood or Les Deux, that’s fer damn sure. I mean, think about this: One headline-grabbing season, gal’s driving the wrong way on a freeway ramp with total pedal-to-the-metal stuff in her system; then, faster than you can say I’m the new anti-Paris, Harlow's mama is dining at the Grill with her baby daddy, Joel Madden, at the Vintage in Indian Wells. Taking up old-dude sports? Eating? So much has changed for little Ms. Richie. Let’s hope (or not, actually) the other Madden bro, Benji, can smack some sense into Paris’ debauched ways. Just don’t count on it. Also shocked, fer sure, was...
Elaine Hendrix

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Elaine Hendrix, bitchy TV ice vamper, looking at real estate in the Hollywood Hills. Casual in jeans and a floral top, Ms. H was with a mucho-attentive dark-haired dude as she walked through a total redo job. E.H. tried super hard not to turn up her little snub nose from the cat-pee-saturated flooring in the place, which, ironi-smelly-cally, is right in the same 'hood where Fanny Fecal-Farmer’s trying to unload her poop-infested compound. What’s with deranged T-towners letting their critters crap everywhere and then charging folks a million-plus (and up) for the privilege of dealing with it? Would seem Angelinos don’t think their pets' poop stinks. Not a surprise, really, since they don’t think theirs does either, right?
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