Holy Hot Messes! - Family sized shambles

This is where we came from, Big Bro... literally. (incest shambles)

     It appears that we have a hit on our hands as last week's Weekly Hot Messes post keeps getting richer in views each day.  I can only hope to keep the hottest level of mess going in this second edition, so this week I'm pushing my dreams aside and going with a bigger, better, and longer list (tee hee).  For this week's shambled messes I'm not just singling out one mess in a dress, I'm calling out the whole shambled family.  For this excluuuusive info as well as the "place" and "thing" most train-wrecked and busted, click onward... but (as the picture above suggests) don't say I didn't warn you...

Person(s):

The Royal Shambly

     It's a well known fact that I'm the God of all things shambles (FML), but just who is it that serves on my royal court of judgy shame?  I now bring you the King and Queen of the Shamblettes as well as the Prince and Princess next in line to take control of their tragic game-of-thrones for the crown.

Queen of the Shamblettes:

Amy Winehouse (bless)

     God bless this meth.  Home girl is only 27 and already on my 2011 deathwatch list (next to Charlie Sheen and Betty White).  Wino has mad pipes, it's too bad they're mostly the meth kind, because this beauty from Tragicistan really is wasting away her talents by remaining Queen of the Shamblette's.  Girlfriend I say it's time you put down your crown of needles, stay in rehab longer than 2.5 seconds, and get back to your old self (pretty); because (for real) you don't wanna end up like that other British Queen, even if he managed to one-up you by maintaining dignity while his life drained away before our eyes. 

King of the Shamblers:

Gary Busey

         I'm sure you sluts thought I was gonna say Charlie Sheen, but he's soooo three months ago.  It's all about Busey, baby.  He's been consistently cuh-ray-zee all throughout his life (not just when contracts are up for negotiation).  I'll forgive the plastic surgery, horse teeth, and 24 hr non-blink policy GB has... but what I will NOT forgive is his crazy stroke face and nonsensical rambling.  Therefore the whole package, plus the fact that someone slept with him and made the equally toothy Shamble-Squire Shasta McNasty, makes him King of the Shamblers in my Royal Food Court. 

Princess Shamblina:

LiLo

     Busey might've been a plot twist worthy of blogging about, but there's no surpise here that Fraulein Lindsay is Princess Shamblina.  In addition to her degree from the Winona Ryder school of shoplifting, LiLo dated a closeted gay man, then moved on to an out gay man, then went to rehab more times than I go to Wendy's in a day (trust, it's a lot) and now she's doing time and making horrible movies that aren't even good enough to be direct to DVD.  I'm sorry, homegirl but once Wino kicks it, your next stint in rehab will be as Queen... and there's no way you can Freaky Friday or Parent Trap your way outta this one.

Prince Shambler:

Andy Dick (gays get off [on] him)

     The results are in, and although Dickhead has some stiff (tee hee) competition from others in the the Royal Food Court for his title... most are either too dead (Corey Haim, Brad Renfro, Gary Coleman), too "Busey adjacent" (Nick Nolte, Nicolas Cake, Mel Gibson, David Hasslehoff, Randy Quaid), or too sober these days (Robert Downey Jr) to steal his title.  This makes "his royal heinous" that much more deserving of his title, because he fought hard (tee hee) for it and ain't playin' no games.  So kudos to you "A" (could it be him?) for pulling out all the stops and molesting anything in sight with your ween while being really creepy and wasted all the time.  I'm sure you're jealous that the aptly penis-named senator "A" Weiner is now receiving (tee hee) all the pun-related jokes, but your time will come again once you're King.
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PLACE:

Target

     What gives Tar-zyehh?  I used to look up to you.  I mean you've got gangta commercials that I want to be in before I die, and you're classier than Wal-Mart, but still I can't stand to be inside you anymore (tee hee).  Apparently you're the Wendy's of these kinda stores because your square-meat, applewood bacon, and sea-salt-fries-quality merchandise is attracting more than just crazy nommers like me with higher standards, but also weird families and people who actually rock the Mary Kate and Ashley Olson collection without a sense of irony.
      You keep on growing, but the more you do the less classy/more of a hot mess you become.  You're trying too hard to be something you're not by selling groceries and the like in-store, and it's really starting to show in your long forgotten roots what a hot mess you've become.  I go to target for the icees, big pretzels, and stuff that smells like plastic... not for mulletous bargain hunters and sign holders; that's reserved for your less classy counterparts where it's okay that there's random merchandise tossed about on the floor and trash everywhere.  Get it together, Big-T you're really starting to look like the terror that is Nick Nolte's mugshot and I can't be associated with that.
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THING:

      This is already a long ass post, so I'll make it quick.  Don't get me wrong, I used to have no problem with Jennifer Love Chewitt's disproportionately large ass (bless), but then she goes and tells the world something it didn't want to know and gives me a reason to pile on the hate sauce... she vejazzles.  Frankly put, gluing gemstones and jewels on your lady jewels is a hot mess.  If me and Brad Pitt wanted to know what it feels like to put our weens in that, we'd buy some studded condoms, rub them against our manginas, and call it a day... but instead we're left with J-Love's vajazzolution.  Truth be told, at the end of the day there really isn't anything more to say on the matter because some hot messes just smolder for themselves... right Brad?