Starlet Seen Exiting Porn Theater; Eats Tacos

Rosie Daisy and alleged taco truck in East L.A.

We’ve learned earlier today that Disney TV sensation Rosie Daisy was spotted exiting The Sarlacc, a pornographic theater located in East L.A. The 16-year-old was seen walking briskly away from the theater, hours after she had entered it, wearing an over-sized fur coat. Onlookers claimed the teen looked “nervous” and constantly jumped at the sounds of busy street.

One witness said he knew it was the starlet right away as he explained he had seen her “many times in that area before,” thinking that maybe she just “enjoyed a movie or two” and that she always “ate lunch at the taco truck across the street” afterward. When asked what she usually ordered at the taco truck, the witness explained that she could be seen “eating tacos.”

Ms. Daisy’s rep could not be reached for comment; however, we have learned that the taco truck in question is owned and operated by the Rivera family of Inglewood. When pressed for information regarding Ms. Daisy’s daily lunch order, the Rivera family was reluctant to give away any information, though they did explain that the beef tacos were 100% beef.

Baby Snatched by Hawk; PETA-endorsed Parents Say, “Don’t Kill Hawk!”

Ursa Major-Minor and alleged hawk that snatched her in the park this afternoon while her parents watched helplessly.

While enjoying an afternoon picnic in the park with her parents, celeb tot Ursa Major-Minor was kidnapped by a hawk. Witnesses described the incident as “difficult to watch” and “worthy of YouTube” as most whipped out their smartphones and began recording the incident.

Her parents, famed actor Teddy Minor and singer/songwriter Helena Major, reportedly watched the incident  unfold without so much as reaching out for the young child. When reached for comment, their reps would not answer their phones, but a second cousin of Minor’s confirmed that though the parents were in fact distraught and worried, they felt they could not get in the way of the hawk’s natural hunting techniques and that hurting the hawk would hurt their endorsements with PETA.

 

Ursa Major-Minor, the latest baby to join the brood, was last seen flying over Trump Tower and headed north. No word yet from her brothers’ or sisters’ reps on whether or not her absence will be felt, though Jonathan Taylor Thomas Major-Minor, the eldest, did tweet about the incident saying, “Fun in da park today with da fam.”

A Trick Up His Sleeve? Magician’s Whereabouts Known.

We’ve just been told that recently single magician Wilhelm von Vippersnapperston traveled to his hometown Lincoln, Nebraska this past holiday weekend, allegedly where the horse in the picture below is located. No comment as to what the accompanying caption means, but it’s assumed that Vippersnapperston’s background in ranching and his latest tweets about “wasting away in the city” have something to do with his decision to seek solace in an environment all too different from his life in L.A.

Recently plagued with infidelity rumors as the spark for igniting his divorce from famed opera sensation Louise Yvette Sinclair, it comes as no surprise that Vippersnapperston would hide away in the country, though it is reported that the daring magician was seen tailgating at a Husker game and, later, drunkeningly bashing the team’s plays in only his boxer briefs and body paint.

No word from the horse’s owner if he is a close, personal friend of the performer’s or just a new acquaintance. We will bring you more information as this story unfolds via Vippersnapperston’s Twitter, Facebook, and Flickr accounts as he no longer returns our phone calls.

Gone Fishin'

Attempt 1

JJ,

I guess I didn’t expect you to speed-walk in the other direction. You even left your beer on the counter. When I said I had dropped 8 GB of RAM down my pants I expected you to be swooned. Maybe the lunging forward was a bit much? I mean, it wasn’t even that original. I was just quoting The Guild.

C.

My Rapey Vampire

Dear Rachel,

First off, I’d like to apologize for last night and tell you that most of what I said was directly related to the Lipitor/Franzia cocktail downed earlier that evening behind the Applebee’s on 35th Ave. Not that this should be an excuse, but between you and me Lipitor should be running more clinical trials with the FDA. And, I suppose, I should apologize for the incessant kicking as well. I blame my restless leg syndrome on my youth spent making my way up the ranks of the AYSO in California only to fail miserably in college intramurals and forever dubbed Mia Hambone. Nevertheless, last night was an eye-opening experience for me, one that really changes a person’s outlook on life.

When you and your friends started erupting in teenage squeals at the movie screen, I should have just stood up and moved down the row. I should have seen what was coming, but I was stubborn. Within the first 15 minutes of the film, it was clear that you and your girlfriends were experiencing not just a typical midnight-movie-extravaganza. You girls were also receiving a new outlook on life.

I had arrived quietly several hours before and waited in the restroom until that long line started moving, finishing off my spinach artichoke dip I had leftover from my dinner earlier. I found a seat near the rear of the theater not wishing to speak to anyone and hoping that my ball cap would hang low enough over my eyes to obscure my face from others, but not necessarily from the screen. I had the best wishes in mind for my night, and then I met you and your gaggle.

I remember being your age. I was a moody little thing: throwing tantrums and slamming doors and screaming about my internal pain one minute and then conducting concerts and dances and entire showcases for my family the next. I lived for the drama, breathed in every hurtful word and small compliment. I, too, would have gone to a film like this then, my girlfriends and I just as loud and exuberant as you three.

However, I had the distinct pleasure of not getting punched in the face during such experiences. I never got kicked or poked or yelled at. I didn’t even receive so much as a whispered retort. So, life has dealt you another hand. Maybe I could have stopped myself had you not been shouting at the screen when the young girl finally consumates her relationship with the young, pale hero. Perhaps if I hadn’t been on a 3 day sleepless binge and just maxed out my credit cards on QVC reruns, I would have shown more intelligence in my decisions. But we can’t change the past, and I can’t un-break your arm.

I’d like to tell you that tomorrow will be brighter, that in 30 years you won’t remember my face or, hopefully, that movie. But someday some little girl is going to push you over the edge, and on that day I hope you think of me.

Sincerely,

Codie

Big Gulps and Bottles and Cans … oh my!

Mike,

I know you think it’s just so silly and it’s easy to laugh at me and pretend that I’m being ridiculous. I suppose I encourage it with my emphatic gestures and bulging eyes and giggling, but I’m serious about all of it, too. You can’t imagine what it was like, and, I’m guessing, you wouldn’t even want to imagine it, invite in the idea that some of us aren’t driving orange Mustangs.

For over four years, I held onto those 44oz. cups around turns and while braking, like when a father shoves his arm across his daughter’s chest at the sight of an oncoming vehicle. I protected my cloth seats from soda stains and coffee, too. Now and then I’d have to walk away with a sticky purse or jacket, the accident unstoppable.

There was no one to help me. And, sometimes, I even took pride in that notion that I was put on this earth to fight this battle. But, now that I’ve lived through those years, traveled mile after mile hoping I wouldn’t have to scramble for a towel or Brawny sheets, cursed the lord for making life impossible; now that I have arrived at this place, I think I deserve this cup holder. I know I deserve a preserved drink just as much as the guy in front of me in that drive-thru line. And you can laugh and you can shake your head as I gulp down every saved sip. I won’t even mind it.

Codie

Circle of Life

Darwin,

I’d prefer it if you’d refrain from using your little brother as a symbolic gesture of lineage in garnering pudding cups and cookies from your fellow classmates. I do not want to meet with your principal again about how the lunchroom chanting is disrupting other classes and, please, stop calling him Simba.

Love,

Mom