Lindsay Lohan has a new boyfriend. He is the son of Diana Ross. Thus continues Lindsay’s neverending habit of making very very bad decisions–the possibilty of having Diana Ross become your mother-in-law is barely a half a step above marrying into the Collins or Gabor families.

Looks like the only pink taco that Harry Morton will be entering now is his own restaurant. Lindsay has finally gotten over her shattered heart (what’d that take, like, three weeks?) and has firmly attached her fiery crotch to a new man like a barnacle to a pier. The new man in question is the 18-year-old son of Miss Diana Ross and shipping tycoon Arne Naess. The National Enquirer and a mysterious source say:

“Lindsay absolutely adores Evan. They’re keeping the relationship quiet and won’t show up or leave a club or event together.” The source added that Lindsay also reportedly likes being the older woman: “Lindsay’s loving that, for the first time, she’s the experienced one in this relationship.”

Yeeeah, um, Lindsay has trysted with enough people to rival the total population of towns in Wyoming. We’re pretty positive that she’d even be considered the “experienced one” in a relationship with Gene Simmons.

Lap up more Lohan at MrSkin.com.

Sharon Stone recently skipped out on an AIDS benefit after she claimed that a Barbie doll that had been made in her image specifically for the event looked “nothing” like her. Which means the plastic doll’s breasts turned out more lifelike than hers.

A charity called Children Affected by AIDS Foundation held a benefit gala last Saturday night to raise money and awareness. Sharon Stone was a guest at the ball, but ended up being more ugly stepsister than Cinderella when she freaked out upon viewing a limited edition Shazza Stone Barbie that had been created specifically to be auctioned off for the event. A source told the New York Post that Stone took one look at the doll and “flipped out”, refusing to attend the event. Sharon’s rep confirmed the story, saying

“That is absolutely correct. The doll didn’t look anything like her. She was never committed to going.”

You hear that, AIDS babies? Cram it! Sharon Stone hates you. Sharon Stone hates you and she’s not giving you any money or even showing up to your stupid party. Ha ha, AIDS babies! In your FACE! That’ll learn you to cross Sharon Stone!

See what the Barbie was based on: Sharon’s naked at MrSkin.com.

Tomorrow marks the day that we gushed forth from the womb into this madcap, crazy world of ours. Come, take our hand, and join us, won’t you, in celebrating our twoth birthday. It’s been a wild year, with us taking our first steps, uttering our first word (”firecrotch”) and taking those first few tentative stabs at making #2 in the big people potty. Thanks for being there, friendly readers, as we threw several floor-punching tantrums and drew all over the walls with the aforementioned #2. In the next few weeks, as we enter our third year, expect an exciting new look around these parts. We don’t want to give anything away, but our makeover promises to make us thinner than Nicole Richie and tanner than Rachel Zoe! We can’t lose!

Sometimes reading gossip magazines is like living in the world described in A Handmaid’s Tale, a world in which everyone’s eyes are glued to women’s lower abdomens, breathlessly anticipating the faintest hint of bloat, loose-fitting garments, or A.M. barfing. The latest uterus under scrutiny is the one nestled in Angelina Jolie’s sexy guts, and sources allege that she’s about to make it Irish twins. Trendy double stroller with extra-large latte holder TK!

The new issue of Star features Ms. Jolie on the cover, with a possible hint of a stomach protruding a fourth of an inch. Despite the fact that Angelina gave birth 5 months ago, Star says that this is a sure sign of the infamous, much-maligned BUMP ALERT, especially with Ang donning loose clothing. Quoth the Star:

‘She was wearing a baggy outfit and a big scarf. When she got out of the car, she walked straight to the building, and she was messing around with the scarf, trying to cover herself with it,’ the witness says. In fact, Star has learned that the actress, who wore similar baggy dresses and cover-ups early in her pregnancy with 5-month-old daughter Shiloh last winter, has been struggling over the last few weeks of shooting A Mighty Heart in Pune. ‘I heard she’s not able to hold down food very well,’ a source tells Star. That’s not all: The source adds that Angelina is back on prenatal vitamins and she’s off birth control!”

Hm, going to India and wearing baggy garb like the local custom. Yes, that’s definitely suspicious. Getting an upset stomach in India . . . also highly questionable. India has a great track record of clean water and no microbes for sure. And a random bystander knowing the intimate details about an incredibly famous and secrective celebrity’s prescriptions? Well, that seals the deal. She is so totally pregnant.

Angelina is non-pregged and super naked at MrSkin.com.

Our second Posh Spice story in as many days! We truly are obsessed. Today, she’s making headlines due to the outrageous, Mariah Carey-like list of demands she and husband David gave to a London hotel to ensure that their stay was a comfortable one. Your hotel requirements might be: towels, a working toilet, decent water pressure, and sheets with the minimal amount of bodily fluid on them. Posh’s are much different.

Vic and Bec recently stayed at London’s Hempel Hotel when they were in town promoting Victoria’s surely enlightening book, That Extra Half an Inch. The hotel spent your yearly salary on knickknacks and geegaws to make the Beckhams comfortable. London’s Daily Mail reports:

“Her exacting demands included £350 of cakes from a local patisserie, ultrathick towels and extra dressing gowns and £1,000 of smart Jo Malone bath scents, plus a full set of Spanish newspapers so her husband could read reports from football matches in his home league.

Anxious staff decorated the hotel’s £1,500-a night Beluga suite with £5,000 of orchids, six silver platters of fresh tropical fruit, and lit it with 60 candles. Another £5,000 was spent flying in Italian linen sheets by designer Francesco Calvidini. A butler was put on standby to look after the couple during their two day stay at the west London hotel. They were also offered a chauffeur-driven Porsche Cayenne should they need to venture out.”

Furthermore, a hotel staffer said:

“Victoria arrived here with David on Sunday afternoon. We made a massive effort to get ready for them - in total we must have spent around £20,000 preparing for their arrival. Victoria came here to promote her book - she did a series of interviews in her suite. We did everything we could to get it ready. But she was not happy with champagne on ice in her suite - we had stocked it with Ruinart champagne and she insisted on Cristal. She was quite clear that she and David were not happy with anything but Cristal.”

While we think that the world does need insane, Prince-like divas who sleep on pure mink sheets and will only bathe in the hot springs of Iceland, Victoria Beckham doesn’t really seem to us like a person of such remarkable, God-given talent that her preposterous demands could easily be explained away. She’s not really on the Cristal and silver platter level. She’s more like generic Ritz and prepackaged pudding cups on a TV tray. With a glass of Riunite on ice.

Get your Posh fix at MrSkin.com.

Is Lindsay Lohan simply over-the-moon at not having one vodka-and-red-bull or dipping into her emergency vial in a whopping ninety days, or is she just fucking with us? We may never know, unless she starts sporting a second chip that proclaims “Ninety Days Celibate.” Then we’ll definitely know she’s fucking with us.

Ponder this so important conundrum at Splash News.

And fall off the Lindsay wagon at MrSkin.com.

Bobby Brown has knocked up Super Head, a.k.a. Karrine Steffans. Apparently whack crack gives sperm super powers to defy modern medical science and all the rules of logic.

See, Bobby supposedly had a vasectomy. Although it’s quite plausible that the following scenario happened the first time he sampled the Super Head: “Ah, nah, baby, I ain’t need no rubber. I gots it all taken care of. Snip snip. No more babies. I can’t pay for another one anyway.” Either way, Bobby’s goona be a daddy. The National Enquirer got the scoop:

A source tells the publication, “When Karrine found out she was pregnant she was so angry because Bobby had told her he couldn’t have more kids.” Steffans and Brown are reportedly making plans for a reality TV show focusing on their romance.

While the prospect of Bobby Brown displaying his “black love” with a whole new woman and eagerly anticipate the intimate knowledge of Karrine’s dootie bubbles, we really can’t wait till Bobby’s newest baby (we’ll call her Bobbi Karrine) hits thirteen and learns the ways of MySpace from older half-sis Bobbi Kristina. Although by that point teenagers will probably think MySpace is for old prudes who are too uptight to post their hardcore porn videos on the internet like all the cool eighth graders. Plus she’ll feel the pressure to live up to Momma’s reputation for giving the best blowjob this side of Monica Lewinsky. Girl’s gonna have a hard road.

Posh Spice’s rather unflattering severe new bob was widely covered in the gossip blog pages a few weeks ago. Some speculated that it was a way to balance out her terrible, terrible boobs, some said she wanted to spark a new trend, but the truth of the matter is that the penile ministrations of husband David Beckham were hearty enough to cause her extensions to fall out. In essence, he fucked her weave off.

Monkey Spice is the Spice we love to hate, from her lubed and beglittered terra-cotta skin to her coconut-half implants to her size -00 jeans. But lately, doubt has began to creep in. We’ve stopped actively hating her. We’ve started almost sort of liking her a little, thanks in part to this video (yes, it’s very safe for work). Suddenly, we find ourselves even actually out and out admiring her–she’s a funny ho!–as evidenced by this gem she dropped when explaining the reasoning behind her new hairdo on the UK morning show GMTV:

“I was in the heat of passion and my hair extensions would come out - it was so embarrassing.”

Although you won’t see us sporting the razor bob or a bronzer bath look any time soon, Posh is known as a tastemaker in her native England. So don’t be surprised if a new wave of fetish porn floods the marketplace soon: small, russet-colored women getting enthusiastically hammered on a bed strewn with ratted, synthetic weave chunks gently bouncing to the rhythm of the animalistic coupling.

Get your Posh fix at MrSkin.com.

In the biggest baby-endangering shocker since Solange Knowles was accused of bleaching her clubfooted baby, Anna Nicole Smith has allegedly dyed her newborn daughter’s hair to make her look more like creepazoid Nightline-investigation-waiting-to-happen Howard K. Stern. Perhaps an easier route to confirming paternity would have been to tattoo “I’m a jagbag and I’ll steal all your money” on the child’s forehead.

USA Today isn’t usually our kind of newspaper, seeing as how we’re not forty-five, three hundred pounds, and constantly trolling You Tube for videos of Democrats getting kicked in the nuts. But, hey, they’ve got the story, so what can we do? They say:

An attorney thinks TV reality star Anna Nicole Smith, who usually sports platinum blonde hair, may have dyed her infant daughter’s locks to make it appear the father is Smith’s companion, Howard K. Stern.

Smith’s ex-boyfriend Larry Birkhead, who claims he is the father, saw the child with dark hair in leaked snippets of an Entertainment Tonight interview of Smith, his attorney Debra Opri said Monday.

“It’s horrendous,” Opri said. “We are calling our experts right now to see if dyeing an infant’s hair is any way toxic or harmful to a child.”

You know what’s toxic and harmful to a child? Having Anna Nicole Smith as a mother. But hopefully Dannielynn possesses a genetics-defying intellect and has already learned to change her own diapers. Otherwise that might not be hair dye that we’re seeing.

Also, Anna Nicole has been hospitalized with pneumonia. We’re just going to assume that “pneumonia” is Bahamian for “chlamydia.” Thanks, Howard K.!

Check out Anna Nicole’s own dying practices at MrSkin.com.

This is a picture of Brad Pitt on the cover of the December issue of Vanity Fair. He’s wet, he’s in his underwear, and he’s f-ing pissed. That’s right. While Brad Pitt is screwing every red-blooded American man’s fantasy, he is getting mad that bored and dissatisfied women are picturing him in his wet, partially see-through drawers instead of focusing on how badly their schlumpy and inattentive husband needs to trim his back hair. God, Brad, you are so selfish.

If Brad’s mad about Vanity Fair, we’re guessing he wouldn’t like you looking at his pictures at MaleStars.com. But that won’t stop you, now will it?