Bender

um, yeah. hi.

where've i been?

in rehab with sweet, sweet lindsay, of course.

For shame, for shame

let me ask you a question.

is britney spears still hot?

like, all the right parts are there. and i'm sure if you had great researchers investigate, they would determine that she absolutely should be.

and yet ... no.

if you look at her one body part at a time, she's all right. put together? not so good. it's as if some mad scientists fashioned their ideal version of a woman, all "weird science" and shit, but something along the way went horribly awry.

i banged her anyway last night.

i blame the vodka and red bull. plus, she promised me cheetos.

Another pure nite

oh, fuck yeah.

(that pic is me going all, "whoop! whoop!" and dancing my azz off!!)

while you suckas were sitting at home this weekend, i was at Pure in VEGAS BABY! with my girl lindsay, who is totally clean and sober and fresh out of 45 days in rehab.

and by "45 days in rehab" i mean "boob job in malibu." have you seen my angel lately? she is STACKED. she makes me wanna eat some grapefruit.

so anyway, now she has this "alcohol bracelet" around her ankle that is supposed to let the judge know when she drinks anything with alcohol.

silly judge.

in addition to an alcohol bracelet, she would need an ecstacy bracelet. and a blow bracelet. and a meth bracelet. and on occasion, a horse tranquilizer bracelet.

and maybe an anal sex bracelet for good measure.

and really, her ankles aren't big enough for all of those. her bones might crumble into powder, and then she might snort them. that would be so sad.

i've been up for like two days straight. can u tell? vegas is so fucking crazy.

HA! nicole richie is having my baby.

i hope grandpa lionel is prepared to be dancing on the ceiling -- with my love child. cuz my sperm is tight, yo!

the irony is, it happened right after we saw the movie "knocked up." i swear, you get a little blow and some Goobers into that girl, and she is putty in your hands.

she's going to get so fat.

That Little Blonde Whore

Holy fucking shit. I just woke up from Paris' post-prison party.

What day is it? Where am I? And why is my fur so matted?

More soon.

crash into me

fuck on a stick.

i was leaving teddy's last nite, driving down the street to my house and somehow my car jumped the curb.

and i don't understand, because i was totally just texting on my sidekick and talking on my blackberry and putting my ipod on shuffle and trying to grab my little baggie of blow ... when BAM!

how the hell does that happen?

I'm as high as a kite, oh me oh my ... no i'm not

now that jessica and john are thru, she's been coming over all the time and messaging my sidekick.

she sent this text yesterday that was like, "yr body iz wonderland."

and i'm like. "no way."

and she's like "iz true. somethin bout the way yr hair falls in yr face; i lurve the shape u take when crawling to the pillowcase. u tell me where to go and though i might leave 2 find it, i'll never let yr head hit the bed without my hand behind it. u want love? we'll make it, swim in a deep sea of blanketz."

and i'm all, "bitch. how you type so fast?"

then i told her to shut up and give me some rum and ritalin.

that girl loves her ritalin. think of it this way -- you've seen how much she loves that motherfucking proactiv skin shit? multiply that by 100 and cover it in nacho cheese, and that's how much she goes crazy for ritalin.

EXCEPT. she brought over dexedrine last night. not ritalin. i guess her hookup was out of town. PLUS, it was still $240 for 120 pills.

whatever. no wonder nick divorced her.

at least it works.

Grapes of Wrath

i thought i'd make a quick trip to napa to relax before i start shooting for "weeds." just got back this morning.

best part of napa:

* drunk waitresses.
* public boozing encouraged.
* convenient wine spit buckets in which to vomit.
* Triscuits everywhere.
* drugs frowned upon -- so hey, more for me!
* can enthusiastically punch douchebags who quote "sideways" and a crowd will cheer you on.
* no stupid poor people. they can't afford it.

worst part of napa:

* NO FUCKING OPPOSABLE THUMBS WITH WHICH TO HOLD A CORKSCREW.

Little Boxes and Bourgeois Conformist Values

as you might or might not know, i haven't been working a lot lately. yeah, i know a cat can't just go out and party and drink and bang chicks all the time ... but it's so much fun. and it's so hard to get up before noon. and work is boring.

so anyway, this morning my agent called and said he had a sweet gig for me. so i took a quick bath and gave myself a good lick-over, then headed to showtime studios.

hells yeah. i got a guest spot on muthafuckin "WEEDS."

i love "weeds"!!! and coincidentally, i love weed! (also, it helps that mary-louise parker is a sweet piece of old ass. i'm totally going to get on that shit.)

now this is a job i can be dedicated about. and i plan on doing a LOT of research.

in fact, i just got back from the medical marijuana dispensary. oh yeahhhh ...



god bless california. and god bless my glaucoma.

paris in the springtime

crap crap crap.

paris is going back to jail.

ugh. she is definitely getting a book deal now!

do you know what i would pay for that kind of publicity? how come i'm not going to jail? it's just not fair.

What'd you THINK you'd get?

1. i noticed a person found this blog by searching for "how to make cat meth." what the fuck, freak? you don't know how to make cat meth? well, i'm not going to tell you.

2. fuck paris.

except i already did. snap!~

long-azz weekend adventures

i am so tired today.

i was so upset about the whole lindsay thing (btw, she is SUCH a bitch), that i was all prepared to hole myself up in my place and drink a lot of rum and play hemingway with my favorite shotgun.

then my friend charlie sheen stopped by. and that guy knows a thing or two about breakups.

so charlie really wanted to show me that there are other fish in the sea. (and by "other fish in the sea," he meant a hooker named delite and her twin sister sable. but i think they had crabs.)

we spent the weekend at my place drinking courvoisier and playing vaseline twister.

the girls wanted more money when charlie wanted to slap them around and call them denise, and he got all gangsta and started shouting about "i don't need you hos! i can get my own women! and without paying for them!"

he wanted to prove it by picking up some hot sorority chicks at the ucla bars -- so went went out for a while, but he failed miserably.

we ended up at his house. alone. playing wii.

whee.

i don't think i've slept in two days, and my head hurts so bad! like, migraine-style. what day is it?

Becuz thin is IN

Ha ha ha ha ha.

the tabs are totally mocking my friend nicole richie for having a party last week and only allowing guests who are under 100 pounds.

who the fuck cares? if you're over 100 pounds, let's face it -- you're a whale.

besides, i have nothing to worry about. i'm twelve pounds, bitches! let's see you compete with that.

Ground Control to Major Linds

What the fuck, lindsay?

you don't know how a phone works anymore?

i think once you even texted during SEX. and now you can't figure out how to manage your effing sidekick? does sobriety mean that you've lost your magical messaging power? you could at least CALL.

that sweaty douchebag was right. you are a firecrotch.

you know what? rehab is for LOSERS. and i know. i've been to rehab before. (not the real one, like betty ford or something. but that fake one that mel told me to go to.)

stay in rehab, loser. what do i care? i have my tequila to keep me warm.

btw, what happened to that bjork mix CD i made for you? i want it BACK.

The Blue Stuff is the Best

junkie steve told me that the best way to get over a hangover is to down a half bottle of mouthwash and chase it with a red bull.

and he should know. (his bff is robert downey jr.)

actually, i am feeling quite good right now.

reality, my friends, is NOT my forte. why lead the sober life when an altered one is so much fun?

speaking of that, that crazy bitch britney wants to see me tonight. i might go, i might not. maybeee i'll play pool with her cue ball head.

An Open Letter to Lindsay

dear lindsay,

i am so sorry.

i am so sorry i opened the champagne friday night to celebrate the beginning of a budding romance.

i am so sorry about the fight we had saturday morning, which made you drive away so fast, squealing your tires and leaving me behind in the dust.

i am so sorry i gave you my usable amount of blow. i should have known better. (let's face it, you are not the greatest behind the wheel. we ALL know that. btw, you should really think about getting a driver.)

and mostly, i am so sorry that you are not allowed conjugal visits in your new rehab facility.

i don't know where we stand anymore, snookie-wookums. remember when you stroked my hair and said that you love me more than vodka? well, i just wish you would prove it sometimes.

i really thought we were on to something, but mayeb it was just your stupid addiction talking.

i'm so tired, and i'm like totally cried out right now. i need some sleep. where's that bottle of Ketel One you left at my place? effing hell. i'm just going to have a little sip and try to sleep.

i wonder how your rehab is going to change things between us. will you still text me? will you still call? do i still mean anything at all?

i can't think about this anymore.

i love you, lindsay. love you 4-eva!

XOXO

La-La-Love

oh lindsay lindsay lindsay.

you are my life, my love, my light.

and you will also be my curse.

last night with u, holed up in my bed, snuggling, working on lyrics for ur new album ... then dancing at hyde ... then staying up staying up until dawn ... MAGIC. that's all i can say.

but why did u leave so fast?

i didn't want u to go.

for the longest time i thought i didn't have a heart, but ur the angel who has caused it beat again. i can feel again.

my pulse has quickened. i'm on the edge of my seat. i just want to tell the world everything, everything, everything!

by the way, do i have something on my nose?

Thou Shalt Carry Books

you want to hear something funny?

the other night paris called me and was like, "so, like, you know, now that i'm going to jail, i'm trying to change my image and all ... do u have any advice about what i should do?"

and of course, i thought, "eat a sandwich and wear a bra and stop being a whore."

but i didn't tell her that. noooooo.

i was all high, so i thought it would be funnee to play a joke on her. and so i said, "ooh! you should find god. it worked for johnny cash."

(because i think that was part of "walk the line." wasn't it? only i'm not sure because i was totally rocked during that movie and was watching it with a cheap vegas hooker.)

and i told paris that it would be extra cool if she would carry around some spiritual-type book and, like, a copy of the holy bible or something.

and you know what? she actually did it!

oh, ho ho ho hee hee hee.

that shit be so funny.

now she's in the national enquirer and star and us and all of those mags, and they're talking about how she's all religious now because of these books.

yeah, like she can read.

omg. next time i'm going to tell her to build an ark. it'll be effing hysterical.

dippety doo dah

did u know they make meth now that tastes like strawberrrries?

did ya? did ya? did ya?

did u know that NOT britney but some of britney's people know how to get it?

did ya? did ya? did ya?

did u know u can party all night and clean the house and go shopping and hang out and jump in the pool and come back and clean the house again and have a bottle of wine before you even START to feel tired?

did ya?

omg. i friggin love strawberries.

The Wine is Mine

WTF?

amy winehouse got married this weekend?

we were just making out like last week or something.

amy, call me.