I'm sorry, but I fucking love this chick. Given that Fantasy Football is soon to begin, I'd wager that the infrequency of posts on this blog will only become more of the norm as the autumn goes by. 
I'm not quite sure how I missed this but my favorite Cylon, Grace Park, recently appeared in Complex magazine for this sultry little photoshoot. If you'll excuse me for a second, I'm gonna let the nerd goo fly. The first three rows should bring a poncho. 
Keira Knightley, the second hottest woman on this planet, recently commented to journalists that she has no problem with nudity. This isn't really any form of news, considering I can name a few topless Keira moments without even really trying. But the fact that she is perfectly fine with whipping out her tats as long as people pay her for it, and not starting to take the common route of actresses her age and declaring that now she wants to take "classier roles". 
Elizabeth Hurley is an angel. Literally. Not only has she provided us with countless hours of oogling for the better part of most of my generation's youth, but now she shows her benevolence by putting out a fashion line of bikini's... all of which she models herself.
Ali Larter, who I know best from "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back", and everyone else knows best from Heroes and/or that Texas football movie that wasn't "Friday Night Lights", recently appeared on the cover of Allure magazine... and wow. Wow. 
Remember that James Bond movie, "The World Is Not Enough"? Me neither. But I do faintly recall Sophie Marceau being in it. And if thats not good enough transitional material for this new photoshoot of her, I don't know what is. In all seriousness though, just look at this woman. Now that is what we call "hauntingly beautiful". As in, you are haunted by these images until you can find a private place and... "perform an exorcism". On your penis. Repeatedly. 
Hmmmm.
Robert Rodriguez and Rose McGowan have reportedly split up, according to the New York Post this week. Which is kind of a problem for both of them considering they were planning to make not one, not two, but three movies together in the near future. Sure, the reason for the breakup pretty much centered around Rodriguez's insistence that McGowan be the star of these three films, much to the collective eye-roll of studio executives. 
Big fucking surprise, everybody: Katie Holmes' acting career is pretty much finished. Apparently, Broadway ticket brokers can't give seats away to her new show. Which is pretty hilarious, considering I still believe that Ms. Holmes saw fit to marry the most psychologically unbalanced man in Hollywood for the purpose of reinvigorating her tepid fame. A few years later, and what do we have: countless tabloid rumors, a failed movie, and a turkey-baster baby that owes 23 chromosomes to the right-hand man of Intergalatic Lord Xenu. Irony certainely is delicious isn't it. Its no wonder Katie has transformed from the girl-next-door to something vaguely resembling a supervillaness. Compare below, and tell me that this girl doesn't spend most of her nights these days planning to foment fear, war and death across the world. 
Christina Ricci, the sexiest elf that isn't rendered for a Role Playing Game (lest that game be an exotic adventure through my teenage mastubatory fantasies.... which would make me a Lvl. 981 Deviant by this point), recently appeared in a new shoot for Hollywood Life magazine. Yet again, Ms. Ricci reminds us that breast reductions can sometimes be for the best with these pictures. But it should be clearly noted that this rule only applies if the actress in question is willing to bare them in almost every film she is in. I believe this was all covered in the Beautitudes. "Blessed are those who fear the Lord, and show Him their tits." 
Ah, the Sunday of July 4th weekend. A time for repose and reflection. A time to celebrate the warm memories (read: haunting nightmares) of joyous Americana (read: supersaturated fats, no-carb beers and pretty explosives from China) with those family and friends you treasure most (read: drunks). Or.. for me, a time to kill several tedious hours at work by blitzkrieging this blog with a series of catchup posts... mostly relating to breasts.... and the confusing organisms that carry them around on their chests. With that in mind, lets take a moment to appreciate some new pics of one of our favorite, underappreciated (and talentless) faux-celebrities: Ms. Kristin Cavallari. Frankly, I don't care if the only talent this girl has is being photographed in a bikini. You might as well call her Henry Kissenger in my book. And no, I'm not taking anything away from the famed diplomat.... I'm taking EVERYTHING away. After all, I've been storing his corpse in my basement for two years, and haven't seen a penny from his family yet for my trouble. Sure, you could argue that graverobbing a famous American ambassador isn't a very good kidnapping ploy. But I could argue that your mom is a pickadilly whore. And between you and me, the corpse of Kissenger and I talk about it every night at tea. Don't even get me started about what Stalin thinks. 
George Carlin, legendary comedian and unorthodox philosopher, died Sunday of heart failure. He was 71 years old. Carlin wrote and starred in fourteen HBO specials, countless comedy albums, three books, appeared in several films and television shows, and toured constantly for half-a-century. He is remembered by his fellow comedians as a pioneer of stand-up comedy, and was almost universally respected and admired by the entire entertainment industry. 
