Remember these shots?

Kim. Sweetheart. You cannot pose for photos like this and then be all like “Why doesn’t the media appreciate me for my mind?”

Here’s Kim hosting some party in NYC.

Well, my mother wouldn’t want to read this. But if you asked my girlfriends, they would tell you: “That boy loves to eat pussy.” And I am damn good at it.

Counting Crows frontman Adam Duritz, when Blender magazine posed the question “What would your exes say about you?”

The whole interview’s worth a read. It’s here.

The Counting Crows’ new album, Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings, will be released March 25, which is why Adam’s taking time out of his busy schedule of smoking pot and eating pussy to give interviews to Blender mag.

I had a blast at the Conway & Whitman show on 97.1 last night. Everyone at the studio was so sweet and easy to talk to, and we had a great time. Hopefully I’ll be making a return visit!

If you want to hear the voice behind this blog, you can check out the interview here. The podcast is available on their website. The first six minutes or so aren’t me, but the rest of it is.

I suppose it was just a matter of time.

Lindsay’s rep confirms that she will be doing a line of leggings. No other details are available right now.

I am soooo going to buy these. I’m not even kidding. I totally will.

In other fashion news, Whitney Port is the latest Hills star to decide to do a fashion line. Whitney’s line “will launch this fall in upscale boutiques like Planet Blue. The 17-piece collection will feature a lot of navy, pink, multi-colored jackets, tie-dye and sparkly dresses that will retail from approximately $100-$500.”

Tie-dye dresses? Hm.

“They call it “code 5150,” that means “psycho,” legally, fuckin bat-shit, certifiably. I’m outta my mind, believe-you-me. How’d I get this way? How can this be? It’s gotten so bad there’s nothing left of me.” -Steve-O

Those words were written during a “low.” Before the day when Johnny Knoxville, Jeff Tremaine, Big Regg, Swizz, Rick Kosick, Dimitry Elyaschevich, Cordell Mansfield, and Trip Taylor came to my home and, physcially, forced me into the hospital (where I was placed on a 5150 “hold”), I had thought of “bipolar” as a “good” thing. I rationally deduced that, with our time in this life being so limited, it was productive to stick to nothing but extremely high “highs”, and extremely low “lows.” ANYTHING but to “crash on the rocks of mediocrity.” I figured that, since I am an extraordinarily “tough” individual, I could handle it, and my legacy would be comprised of only that which could be described as “intense.” After four days in a psychiatric ward (a.k.a. “looney bin,” a.k.a. “cuckoo’s nest”) it has dawned on me that a great deal of what I produced, while on narcotics-induced “highs,” was a bunch of manic bullshit that made little-to-no sense and, furthermore, was devastating to those who love me the most. At this point, I am no longer “5150-status” (which was the three-day “hold” on me, resulting from suicidal behavior). I am now “5250-status” (which means that the “hold” has been extended to 14 days, for the exact same reasons). I’m not getting out of this “insane asylum” any time in the immediate future, so, I’m going to learn as much from the experience as possible. So far, I’ve figured out that I did a great deal of damage to my brain by abusing drugs and, now that they’ve all worn off, I’m facing the consequences. I suppose it is an ironic “eye for an eye” situation that I am in, coping with the lowest “lows” that I’ve ever experienced-as a form of punishment for the emotional distress that I have put my loved ones through with the self-destructive behavior that led me here.

I already know that I will be handing these pages over to my beautiful assistant, Jen Moore, during our next visitation, and instructing her to share them with as many people as possible on the Internet (rather than try to sell a “juicy” story to the tabloid press for profit). I hope that I haven’t disappointed too many of my fans. Actually, ya know what? Anyone that is disappointed by any of these words really doesn’t matter to me. I’ve harmed myself to no end for those people (at the expense of my loved ones), and look where it got me.

Now, what do I have to add? The research I did into the immortality of the soul, the end of life in our current bodies, and the 4th dimension, was, by no means a bunch of bullshit. I could stand before you all and say very similar words to the ones I say in the following clip, it’s just that I happened to be under the influence of a very dangerous amount of drugs when it was filmed:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C19d47jXyqg

Remember, everyone, “Be real careful, don’t misbehave…That’s all you gotta know to be saved…” -me

I Love You All, Steve-O

P.S. I’m really in the looney bin, but I think it was TJ that read my mind. Is that right, are you TJ? Maybe I’m wrong…

Jackass star Steve-O, in an email to his friends.

If there’s a good reason for me to run this email and give this guy more attention, it’s this: This life — the life that this guy was living — is not what it seems. It is not all crazy fun and good times and carefree shenanigans. There’s a lot of darkness behind the facade. There’s nothing free and wonderful and exciting about a self-destructing drug addiction, no matter how much money and celebrity you manage to garner in the process of exploiting your own disease.

To put it simply: Don’t try this at home.

Here’s Anna at the opening of the K-Swiss store on the Promenade in Santa Monica.

It looks like she’s curled her natural hair but left her extensions straightened, which is so bizarre to me.

And I actually kinda dig the outfit — the shape is way cool — but I can’t get over her decision to pair that damn watch with it. It’s not working for me at all.

Anyway, she’s still got killer legs, although they belong to the capable hands of Enrique Iglesias.

The award for Most Inexplicably There goes to Fred Durst, who showed up to the event sporting a gray beard. Why on earth did K-Swiss invite him? Why did he go? I just can’t imagine a washed-up rocker with a graying beard is how they want their brand represented. There’s some weird story behind this, I’m sure.

That cigarette.

The one on that dusty-ass table. With the wilting flowers.

Right after she gets her boots on.

Chalk it up as yet another cylindrical object Britney Spears shouldn’t have put in her mouth.