Katy Perry and Russell Brand posed for a very public snuggle sesh on the steps of Russell’s flat today in London. The two, who have only been dating for a few months, seem to be heating up rather quickly. Last night at the EMA’s (the European version of the VMA’s) where Katy was serving as host, she surprised her man by dedicating one of her 12 costume changes to him. Katy wore a red and light blue corset and short-shorts combo (you know, those things she’s always wearing) to represent Russell’s favorite football team West Ham. She even had his nickname “Rusty” stitched on to her butt and the team’s emblem situated on top of her nipples. Uh, save it for the bedroom?

Katy Perry hosted her 25th birthday bash at Sunset Beach last night and amongst the guests were her boyf Russell Brand, Taylor Swift and JoJo… oh, and many Oompa Loompas. Katy’s theme was a white party with Willy Wonka overtones and the guests left with their pristine frocks covered in multi-colored paint. Who knows what went on in there, but it looks fun.

Image from TMZ.com

Katy Perry and Russell Brand are dating, which is just stupid. It seems far too contrived to even be real, and despite the fact that I more or less hate her, I do think that Katy Perry is a good girl deep down that won’t possibly stick around with someone as wild as Brand. But whatever. That’s their problem.

This is my problem: The two of them went to go visit Jim Morrison’s grave yesterday. On a “date”. How quaint, right? Russell Brand is teaching Katy about all sorts of things that people are normally cultured on by the time they are her age, like classic rock and Oscar Wilde, and now they’re off to “have a moment” in front of Jim Morrison’s grave. And that makes me ill. The sheer trying too hard-ness is just plain old too much.

It may not be the healthiest approach, but I think it’s human nature to just totally ignore a situation when we wish it wasn’t happening.  Some people do it when they find a mysterious lump or start suffering some unusual physical symptom.  I did it just last night at my kid’s school open house when I just did not want to deal with the mother who never shuts up.  I could see her in my peripheral vision, trying hard to catch my attention, and I just kept starting at the water bubbler. (That’s a drinking fountain for all of you who don’t live in Wisconsin or Massachusetts.)

There’s something else I’ve been trying to avoid, and that’s the rumors of Katy Perry dating Russell Brand.  This couple terrifies me.  She with her dice and banana dresses and he with his three conquests a day.  He made a few Katy Perry/hotel room jokes at the VMAs, but again, I was in denial.

Unfortunately, they were photographed together at a Fendi party in France last night, which kind of confirms the news I’ve been dreading.  If there’s any bright side, we can call them “Rusty” for their couple nickname.  Or “Berry”.  Or “Rusty Berry”.

Russell Brand and Jonah Hill on the set of  Get Him to the Greek in NYC.

Normally, I don’t believe anything The Sun reports, but in my heart of hearts I’m hoping this story is true. 

It seems that Lindsay tried to bed Russell Brand — or get “the dinkle treatment” as the British tabs like to call it — over the past few weeks that she’s seen him on the party circuit and he’s been … declining.  A source said, “He finds her constant craving for attention and her heavy drinking a turn-off. It’s not like he is short of female attention anyway.”

Now, you may be thinking “Who cares?  Maybe he’s gay.  Maybe he doesn’t like coked-out redheads.”  And normally, you’d be right, but this is Russell Brand I’m talking about.  He has sex with a different woman approximately every eight hours.  Russell Brand’s penis is like Ellis Island, literally processing thousands and thousands of citizens each year.  So, you know, “discriminating taste” isn’t exactly his calling card.

Aw, Linds.  You can’t get work.  You can’t get even skin tone.  You can’t get laid.  How many more signs do you need?  It’s time for rehab.

Holly Madison came on to the scene as one-third of the Hugh Hefner trifecta.  Sadly, that relationship soured like yesterday’s Milk of Magnesia and she moved on.

She hooked up with magician Criss Angel and I expected a lot more over-exposure from those two than I ended up getting.  Other than their joint birthday party, they weren’t half as obnoxious as I’d been hoping, prior to their love vanishing.  Disappointing, really.

Now, America’s favorite girl next door is hooking up with comedian and admitted sex-addict Russell Brand.  Now, I’m not sure where she fits into the stats.  He claims to penetrate ninety different vaginae a month, yet the Sun reports that he’s been visiting Madison three times a week.  That is just a ton of cardio.

I’m hoping this works out for a couple reasons.  Mostly, because I want to call them RH Factor.  Also, because Holly Madison is descending into scary territory.  If this new relationship flops, I fear her next conquest is going to be, like, Marilyn Manson.  Or Carrot Top.

Thanks, Eve!