Nicki Minaj Flashes GMA ... Been There Done That

If you haven't already heard, Nicki Minaj's pepperoni slice nipple made a cameo during her performance this morning as part of Good Morning America's summer concert series. BIG FUCKIN' DEAL. I had both my tits out (my nipples are more like silver dollar pancakes with butter on them) when Mary J. Blige performed last summer.

Here's a censored image, because this blog is classy and we gotta keep shit PG-13:

What I really want to know is: Why are we focusing on yet another supposed 'waldrobe malfunction', when Nicki's background dancer Laura Winslow of Family Matters fame, died on stage from pure jealousy of Nicki feasting on a drum of the Colonel's original recipe. Warning, the next image is extremely graphic as it depicts the corpse (front, center) of Steve Urkel's spank bank favorite.

Egg Salad Thongs

I've tried wearing lots of things you can find at a salad bar. Not because I'm fashion forward, but because I try to eat as much as possible at the actual bar before I head to the register where they weigh it. All the baby corn usually winds up in my hair and and in my turtleneck. Rihanna must've been watching me at CiCi's all-you-can-eat pizza/salad/dessert buffet last week and gotten hypnotized by the stunning beauty that was me speckled with Russian dressing. I can't blame her.

Here she is in Barbados this morning rocking a bathing suit that looks like sliced eggs in a Cobb salad.

Yo Holmes Smell Ya Later

Because my apartment is more likely to be featured in a police blotter than Architectural Digest it is with deep regret and great disdain that I congratulate my friends Will and 'Stony' Pinkett-Smith on their beautiful home in Malibu getting the cover treatment. It's like someone ripped a page from The Jefferson's script and stapled it into the magazine most likely to leave your dentist's office tucked into your sweater. Except for the fact that Weezy Jefferson, may her soul rest in peace, never had to step over piles of Courtney Love's shit, or swerve to avoid hitting Lindsay Lohan's legs poking out from a manhole in the middle of the street at 4am. Instead Weezy maintained her classy on the Upper East Side; everyone knows Malibu is the rich white man's Cabrini-Green.

Here's how I usually read an article: I read the first sentence, skim the second, skip the third and then just stare at the rest of the page so that people on the train don't realize I'm sleeping and steal my wallet. So based on thorough analysis of the photos, and complete disregard for the copy, here's all you need to know about Will's crib as featured in the magazine:

1) His son Trey is the black Rumer Willis:

2) The Pinkett-Smiths and their home would've fit right in on The Flintstones as the Cocoa-Pebbles.

3) Once they got the stink out of Uncle Phil's sweaters, Jada used them to upholster the 1000 chairs in the sitting room (lest it be known as the shitting room).

On Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, DJ Jazzy Jeff was always thrown from the front of the house onto the lawn by Uncle Phil, and during the opening scene on The Flintstones, Fred was always kicked out of his own house by his brontosaurus pet. I bet when the uber-feminine Jada Pinkett-Smith wants to make sexytimes, her own brontosaurus pet/co-star from Set It Off, Queen 'Barney' Latifah, gives Will(ma) the same treatment.

Linda Evangelista: Prettier, Richer and Now Smarter Than You

In college I had this recurring nightmare that I took NoDoz instead of birth control and got pregnant during finals week. There's no need to take any tests once you've already failed the only one that matters, so I bypass the classroom and get a pack of Pizza-flavored Combos from the vending machine. I lay on the floor crying, but that shit stops as soon as I remind myself that I never even bought the Econ textbook. Putting things into perspective, I now have the rest of the afternoon free to shop at Mandee's.

Ok, so it was actually a daydream, but that's irrelevant since I have a dick. The point I'm trying to make here is: I will always wind up doing extra work in an effort to avoid doing any work. Pregnancy is a walk in the park in comparison to school work, or any work for that matter. Just ask Linda Evangelista.

Linda is pretty famous for being pretty, but she's probably better known for saying the words I mumble every morning before I finally give up the charade and go to work for 17 cents/hour: "I don't wake up for less than $10,000 a day." She has always dated rich dudes, but there was one that broke the mold (the porcelain mold she keeps her vagina in), François-Henri Pinault, currently known as Mr. Salma Hayek; the father to her 5-year-old son daughter son(?) Augusten. I guess the name "Beat the shit of me on the playground at 3pm" wasn't French enough. I think on the night they conceived, Linda spun her big wheel of Yaz birth control and screamed "Big Money, Big Money, Big Money!", praying it would land on placebo. I was Vanna's stand-in so I just stood there and pressed imaginary squares on the wall, and then the real Pat Sajak informed Linda that it was a prize puzzle; valued at $552,000 a year in child support. This is the face she made when she realized her uterus was filled with cash:

Linda is demanding over $46k a month to cover the costs of vacations, security guards and hiring another mother for Augusten. I have my fingers crossed that this case makes it to the court of one JUDITH SHEINDLIN.