Posted by
ent lawyer
at
1:30 PM
Labels: blind item
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20 comments:
DJ khaled
Dj khaled
Rita ora.
And Rita Whooora lol
Rule of averages, even the biggest pig can find a female pig by the 20th time he asks, very romantic.
Meh, another undesirable who wouldn't get any action if he wasn't rich and famous.
More like 10% of the time. I knew a guy who would try the classic “mei lei yu” line and it worked one out of ten.
Did anyone see Rita Whora with Liam Payne?
His wife better get tested for STDs and she should just divorce him and take the money.
DJ Khale---- he's disgusting and fat.. He's also a lousy f*ck and he like receiving but don't give..
Not the least bit interesting, just another pig.
Go to the Vitamin Store for a laugh. DJ Kahlid is selling a sports drink with his fat face on the Health Beverage. I guess it is for the athlete that can’t run, jump, move, or workout.
As the guy at the counter told me, it’s for the competitive eater
Wow Rita actually has standards?!
Maybe he was wearing Sex Panther Cologne
Award shows and premieres are just full of star f*ckers.
Just Googled Khaled- ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww not for a million dollars
I still say he has the cutest son in show biz. Ahmad? Is that his name? Read he has a $35,000 Rolex. He totally skipped the sippy cup thing.
TRUE STORY: It was the late 40s, early 50s. Savannah, Ga. Blessed Sacrament Elementary School. All the Nuns were from Limerick, Ireland. One day two new kids arrive: brother and sister. They depart a limo in bespoke uniforms. We got ours at Sears. At lunch, their lunch was delivered to them via limo again. They sat alone. We didn't know what to make of these exotic creatures. And, to make matters worse, they didn't look Irish like all of us did. Turns out they were Italian and (cough, cough) from New Yawk. God help us!
Of course I befriended the girl. Her brother had a harder time fitting in. I have never met an Italian I didn't like. Their father owned a night club/fancy dining establishment half-way to Tybee Beach. It became THE place to be seen by all of social Savannah.
Long story short: In a year or so the parents divorced. He lost his supper club. And, for what reason I never found out, both kids ended up in the Orphanage not too far from our school! The Orphanage! They were sent to another school and I never saw them again. Fast forward to the 60s. The dad landed in Atlanta and opened an after hours club where musicians came to jam after their gigs somewhere else. There he was leaning against a wall at the entrance. I went up and introduced myself after all those years. He looked at me. His eyes bugged out. He couldn't speak. He burst into tears! He said, through sobs, "I can't believe you remember who I am and can't believe you would want to even talk to me!" I didn't ask about his kids. I was afraid to. Khaled is rich today. Tomorrow? Who knows. He should talk to M. C. Hammer!
I think his sons name is Asahd.
How classy and totally not juvenile to use that nickname. Apparently there are 12 year olds in the comment section. “Rita Whoooora” hurr hurr hurr. So original and hysterical. So witty.
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