In a court room in L.A. yesterday, a judge watched as two pretty faces slowly contorted into every layer of crazy as Gabriel Aubrey and Halle Berryberrycrazee tried to turn down their own insanity while discussing the custody of their daughter Nahla. A hearing was called last week after Nahla’s nanny accused Gabriel of pushing her during an argument. Halle asked the court to temporarily take away Gabriel’s visitation rights until the whole “nanny beating” thing cleared up. The judge didn’t do that, but after a long butt meditation hearing, they all agreed to do the following:

- Gabriel will go to anger management clbuttes where he’ll learn that every time he feels like he wants to rage at a trick, he needs to stop, drop his panties and roll on over to the nearest webcam to give all of us a show.

- Halle will continue her own therapy sessions, or she’ll be framed for Gabriel’s death and will be forced to spend the rest of her life in an insane asylum with an ugly-fied Penelope Cruz in a jacked up wig.

- Halle and Gabriel will regularly meet with a third party to calmly talk about how they should raise their child. The third party will be given one of those Hunger Games suicide pills just in case their sanity can’t take facing a two-headed beast of lunacy.

- 3-year-old Nahla will also go to counseling.

- Gabriel wants the nanny fired, but the judge didn’t make any decisions about that.

TMZ’s source (who TOTALLY doesn’t have the name Halle Berry in their BlackBerry under “client”) claims that Gabriel was an uncooperative person plug during the entire hearing and getting him to agree to the stuff above was like pulling KFed away from the snack table.

It’s nice that the judge is trying to work with them and everything, but does anybody really believe that these two nut bags will calmly discuss anything without trying to gnaw each other’s pretty faces off? It’s always the pretty ones, right? This is why sometimes it’s best to go home with the ugly bisney at the bar. Sure, sucking on a pretty face is more fun, but you’ll also run the risk of waking up to them screaming about how they hear a baby forming in your gut and they’re going to take you to court for custody. Just slip Halle and Gabriel in a his and hers straitjacket, throw them in padded room and let that sand shovel raise Nahla instead. I mean, Nahla is looking at it like, “Yeah, you’ll make a good mom.“

Here’s Halle, Nahla and Olivier Martinez playing on the beach this past weekend.

At this point, any pictures of Madge are no longer eligible for a Photoshop Award, because the skin on her face is Photoshopped in real life since its pores have been filled with wax and it gets its manufactured youthful glow from daily injections of rare fetus sperm. So even though nothing on this vowel-hating album cover was made from nature, it doesn’t count!

Before my dad became allergic to mailing child support checks and dropped off the face of my life, I used to stay at his apartment in West Coveeeeeena once or twice a month. In the bathroom next to the couch I slept on, he had this 70s glbutt shower door that looked like that cover above. It was beveled and sh*t. It was kind of a horror show, because I could barely make out what was on the other side. So if Psycho took place in my dad’s apartment (if you met my stepmother at the time, you’d agree that it very well could have) and the killer had an Express Yourself-era Madonna face, this cover is what you’d see right before she opened the door and thrust her memaw crotch sending your soul scurrying down the drain.

Even though this cover looks like a flyer for an after-hours club that someone taped over one of the urinals in the bathroom of a gay bar, I don’t hate it. If it was a flyer, I’d even use it to floss the pubes out of my teefs.

If you drive by any random clinic in L.A. this morning, you’ll probably see Paula Abdul trying to break into one of those locked tin boxes in front of the door, because she needs a quick hit of something medically strong to strangle the feeling of rejection that took over her body after getting fired by Simon Cowell AGAIN! Deadline said last night that the producers of The X-Factor deported Steve Jones back to the UK, sent the defected Apollonia impersonator Nicole Scherzinger back to the Prince factory from which she came from and threw a Percocet into the forest so Paula Abdul could chase after it and get lost. Simon pink-slipped all three of them and is only keeping L.A. Reid as a judge for next season.

FOX confirmed last night that both Steve Jones and Nicole sh*tsinger’s second season contracts were executed, but they haven’t said anything about Paula. TMZ is hearing that Paula heard from a lawyer close to the show that she was about to get the bisney GOT FIRED card and Simon hasn’t called her yet to tell her the news. What a cold person Simon is. How could he not take the news, wrap it in ludes dough and then gently feed it to Paula? Simon could’ve at least shaved the words “you’re fired” into his furry tit pies and let Paula read it herself as she suckled on his nipple like she does most nights. Thanks to Simon, none of your medicine cabinets are safe now!

Apparently, Simon hasn’t chosen any replacements yet, but the only way I’ll watch that wailing sh*t show is if the new judges are the queen who maced that brat on the subway and Khia.

Beware, ladies, this is what happens if you f**k a guy with a pencil dick. – jazzfish_77

Runners-up:

You might be a redneck if…..your fetus has already mastered the art of tattooing from inside the uterus. – pamorama_j

And to think, just five months ago it was a tattoo of a penis going into a vagina. – Sweetas

Coincidentally this is exactly what Beyonce’s ultra sound looked like. – Whamo

via Awkward Family Photos (Thanks to the reader who sent this in. My stupid butt lost your email)

This morning, my butt is suffering from bronzer fumes inhalation, breast plate burns to the face and a Vitamin D deficiency due to shade overload, and that could only mean one thing: RuPaul’s Drag Race is back! The show that Xtina uses as her own personal make-up tutorial (Note: But no self-respecting queen on Drag Race would let her pussy plasma drip down her leg without throwing some glitter on it first) dropped on our TV screens and brought Elvira, who I can’t believe has never been on that sh*t before, in as a guest judge.

There are a few queens to talk about like Phi Phi O’Hara, who I swear has “bisney” written next to nationality on her pbuttport (“Go back to Party City where you belong!” is my new favorite verbal slap and I don’t even know what it means), Latrice Royale and Willam whose face is always telling you that it’s 5 o’clock, but none of them compare to Sharon Needles! Sharon Needles was born one night in Pittsburgh when Courtney Love’s favorite heroin-shooting vein busted open and squirted all into the gutter as Marilyn Manson jacked off on a Nina Hagen voodoo doll. bisney is like a Real Housewife of Silent Hill.

Last night’s challenge was to queef out a glamour look for the Rupocalypse and Sharon Needles easily wrapped up that competition by crawling out looking like she just snowballed (tar balled?) a Tar Monster on the shores of a swamp.

The season is still young, but so far I’m stretching out my arm to tie a pair of panty hose around it before shooting up some Sharon Needles. TEAM SHARON NEEDLES (If that doesn’t get me an “HIV test appointment reminder” postcard from the free clinic, I don’t know what will.)

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