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On April 5th, 2008, in a ShoXC event filled with controversy, Shayna “Queen of Spades” Baszler submitted Japanese former pro-wrestler Keiko “Tama Chan” Tamai in the first round of their MMA match-up. Despite Tamai’s raided-from-the-closet-of-Rainbow-Brite/Sanrio-Core outfit and a nickname borrowed from either, a) a beloved bearded seal of Tokyo or this little yummy fellow, she got smacked around, suplex’d and then tapped out on a side neck crank just past two minutes into the first round.

To the delight of the crowd, each crushing blow to the side of Tama Chan’s head sent sparkles across her vision and rainbows out of her nostrils and ears.

P.S. - Shayna, come do a show with Ripe TV. We’ll let you beat up every animated childhood icon we can rustle out of rehab.

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Heather Mills is Paul McCartney’s ex wife and she just won 24.3 million pounds from him in the divorce. Now, we pretty much hate everything about the Beatles – they were simply the first boy band – and, realizing this is a controversial musical position, we’ve upheld it. That being said, somebody needs to set this woman on fire and wreak some vengeance by hanging her from a bridge for the following reason:

Raging Heather Mills tipped a glass of water over the head of Sir Paul McCartney's lawyer yesterday after winning a £24.3million divorce deal.

Heather, 40, who had demanded £125million, said the lawyer had been "baptised in court" for making "unpleasant comments".

Supposing for a minute that you HADN’T just won a sum of money that would allow you to live out the remainder of your life comfortably – maybe it’s a bad idea to pour water on somebody’s head in a courtroom. We’re not lawyers (technically, we're in the Philippines. Long story.), but that seems like a poor legal strategy.

(Editor's Note: The views expressed in this post do not reflect that of Ripe, its subsidiaries or 99.9% of its employees. How can you not like the Beatles?)

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In Rome, a priest participating in a church-sponsored football (the Euro kind with round, chequed balls) match was possessed by rage when an Italian referee made what, in his divine wisdom, he classified as a questionable call.

A footballing priest has been sent off in a church tournament for throwing his shirt at the referee, Italian media reported Sunday.

It gets so much better, though. Instead of taking back his actions, apologizing, or maybe repenting (rimshot), he issued to following statement regarding the grave and unsettling trespasses:

"We are retiring the team," Franco De Rose told Italy's ANSA news service. "We are tired of having to submit to injustices every Sunday."

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That’s “charity job.” What a sweetie. People is reporting that she’s auctioning off two tickets to the premier of her new movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” for charity. The lucky (rich) buyer will have a chance to canoodle with the star in the VIP box area at the event.

Call us sadistic, but the hope that some rich fanboy buys these tickets to an event that couldn’t be more ironically named then ruins his memory foam pillow with a torrent of tears that night when he goes home alone…well, it just makes us feel like sunshine and butterflies.

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The way a lot of high-end jewelers get their names out and about is by lending their pieces to celebrities for award shows and other such high-toned events. To that end the Italian jewelry house Damiani lent out all sorts of jewelry to people at the Oscars.

Then, some geniuses (and for the purposes of this blog: foxy, costume’d geniuses) decided to pull a real life Italian job by burrowing into the famed jewelry house through a neighboring construction site, tying up the employees, and making off with $20 million in gems and jewelry.

Frickin’ awesome. Pat yourself on the back too much, Hollywood, and you’ll end up with broken arms. At least in a figurative, financial sense. The Post has some more pics of the scene of the crime here.

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Hopefully this post will cover all our Britney bases so that we don’t have to revisit her for at least 12 hours (estimated time until her next nonsensical outburst/apocalyptic meltdown).

People is reporting that the blood tests from when Britney was hospitalized were completely negative – that she was not under the influence of anything but the chaotic machinations of her pinwheel-shaped mind.

Britney Spears tested free of illegal drugs and alcohol during her two-night stay at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, a reliable source tells PEOPLE.
"She tested clean," the source says. "This lady is as clean as clean can be, and has been for some time."

NY Post is reporting that Britney was full of enough substances to tranquilize this before her mental breakdown.

Blitzed-out Britney Spears downed a potentially lethal cocktail of 100 prescription pills - and washed it down with a "Purple Monster" mix of vodka, NyQuil and Red Bull - before her mental meltdown, sources said.

The final, slutty icing on the cake is that there may be even more scandalous photos of Britney emerging from her “only friend in the world,” the paparazzo named Adnan Ghalib.

But reports are coming out of America that Ghalib, whose Brummie father used to run a clothing business, has been trying to broker a million-dollar deal for exclusive photos of Britney in her secret hideaway.

What'll the pics look like? This seems about right:

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A guy named Kann Veasna (that is his actual name, not his D&D handle) was drinking wine in a street stall – like ya do – and had to take a wiz.

However a puppy spotted the Mr Veasna's appendage as it poked through and apparently thinking it was a toy latched on, newspaper Rasmei Kampuchea reported.
Suffering lacerations Mr Veasna fronted up to a hospital in Phnom Penh for treatment and was forced to tell the embarrassing story of injuries.

In case you missed the subtle weave of this story, he got his wang bit! A guy hanging it through a fence is funny enough, but this flawless, cartoonish masterpiece…you just can’t ask for more.

At the Movies Rock show last Friday, Fergie committed the dual crimes of McCartney-cide and Axl-slaughter when she burned “Live and Let Die” with her caustic banshee wails and (let’s get) retarded fake pistol.

Justice must be done, and the one they call Fergie must pay and pay dearly. We can’t count on the pu**y/pacifiest McCartney to do anything. We now look to you, Axl, you sweet psychotic bastard.

Dear Axl above, may your blow of justice come swiftly. Strike true against those who test your patience like the pants-peeing blasphemer known as Fergie.

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The Hulk is now mired in litigation. Curse you Linda, you put the mania in Hulkamania. His beyotch ex-wife is now trying to pin him down asking for more alimony than she deserves. Hulk has decided to bounce her off the ropes and break her jaw with his veiny, bronzed fore arm. Legally speaking.

"Whatcha gunna do when Hulkamania and my 24" pythons run wild on you?!?!?!!?"

Linda doesn’t stand a chance against the goldenrod and blood orange fury in the rippling, vengeance-missile that is Hulk Hogan. He’s brushed better looking pieces of meat than her out of his perfectly groomed moustache.

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Over the weekend, Britney went to Petsmart. She did not appear to be broken up over the fact that she couldn’t bring her children with because they’re forbidden by law to ride in their substance-abusing mother’s car.

Rather, she looked stoked to get some totally cute creatures for her expanding menagerie of pre-dead creatures.

The Vegas line on the lifespan of the goldfish (to be referred to for the remainder of this blog as Jayden and Sean) is 10:1 that they die in the first week.

Yep, Jayden and Sean will likely be dead. When B. Spears told the official (of Petsmart) her plans for taking care of Jayden and Sean, he had this to say to OK! Magazine:

"We warned her about it," says one pet expert at the store. "I would not be surprised if the goldfish Sean and Jayden were both dead in the morning."

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In Old Britania, this dude had sex with a bicycle. Even better, is that they have laws on the books to deal with this sort of ballyhoo over there. Anglophilia = justified.

Telegraph reports that the hapless saddle sexer was, ahem, astride his mate when some cleaning staff arrived.

The 51-year-old was naked from the waist down and when the women opened the door he paused only to ask, "What is it, hen?" before continuing to "move his hips back and forth as if to simulate sex".

He was charged with "a sexual breach of peace," which actually sounds pretty bodacious. Those crazy Brits are nothing if not innovative. They invented the first locomotive, rugby, the Spice Girls, and now bike-banging. God save the Queen.

When I was young I watched The Real Ghostbusters every Saturday morning. I did this because I loved cartoon adventure, and I continued to do it until I saw the episodes “The Bogeyman Cometh” and its sequel “The Bogeyman Returns.” Those episodes gave me nightmares from the day I saw them right up until present day. I’m 23. The Bogeyman is still horrifying.

I also used to like Amy Winehouse. I liked it when she sings sober because she’s phenomenally talented. I like her because she romanticizes and justifies alcohol abuse which makes me feel a bit better about blogging hungover. And I also loved her because of Shadenfreude. Which you should Wikipedia if you’re not familiar with.

However, today I decided that not only will I never listen to Amy Winehouse again, but I cannot even glance at her oddly-shaped face. Even if it was once strangely attractive, now it is unequivocally and marrow-chillingly scary.

I braved my own subconscious to retrieve these two pictures. I will undoubtedly have nightmares at least tonight and probably for a week. But this was too uncanny not to share.

Don't stare directly at the jowls

Wailing banshee woman Rosie O’Donnell is releasing a short memoir entitled “Celebrity Detox.” The title refers to her rejecting an “addiction” to celebrity, but most of the book is just the twisted horrorscape of Rosie’s craziness and/or a publicity stunt.

If anybody I knew made these confessions to me, even if they were as annoying as Rosie, I would feel awful for them. But as it stands, I just hate her more. Not sure why, but I’m sure when I figure it out it’ll be justified.

Fox news reported some of the more shocking revelations in the book as follows: “Rosie O’Donnell used to break her own limbs with either a baseball bat or a wooden hanger when she was a child,” and continuing, “Rosie also dangles another clue about her childhood in two sentences. ‘There were many benefits to having a cast. In the middle of the night, it was a weapon.”

They don’t say why she’d need a weapon, but one can imagine any number of horrendous situations. I would have empathy for her, too, if I didn’t already think she was such a calculating succubus.

Let’s get right to the heart of it. I’m still pissed about what she did to my boy Tom Selleck and one of my favorite organizations: the NRA. If you don’t remember read the transcript here: Rosie v. Tom

And, to a lesser degree, I will never forget how she was so thoroughly pwned by The Donald. Here’s a good video of that:

So is her memoir another calculated move for publicity? Who cares. She’s the woman the cried wolf too many times. Then, when we came to see the wolf, it wasn’t there. Cause she’d eaten it.