Visage Pictures

Visage: Most viewed pictures

Picture: By George, No Charges in Motorcycle Smash (E! Online)

Picture: Ashton Kutcher's Mystical Hair Growth

“Crushed”: The Not-So-Brief Story Of Where I’ve Been These Past Few Weeks

I try to make it a point not to share too much about my personal life here, but seeing as we spend most every day together, I felt that owed you, dear readers, at least some small explanation for my absence these past few weeks. It all started when I went to Los Angeles to spend my vacation - as I do every summer - camped outside of The Motherf*cking LaBeouf's mansion in a week-long round-the-clock candlelight vigil with the hope of catching a live glimpse of the world's greatest Mangod in his natural habitat. Due to the terrible desert heat, by the third day I'd already consumed my entire supply of Full Throttle Energy Drinks, and having replaced the contents of each spent can with my own urine, which was beginning to stink, I briefly abandoned my post and voyaged into some nearby tree-cover hoping to find a clean and more private place to relieve myself. As I made my way through the brush, I came to a small clearing in which I discovered something that would change the course of my life forever: hunched against the trunk of an old dying tree was the form of what appeared to be a large boy or small man, whose head was buried in his knees as he heaved and sobbed violently. "Are you...okay?" I asked, ever so gently. When he looked up, my heart nearly exploded out of my chest, for there I stood, face to face with the glorious tear-stained visage of Shia LaBeouf. However, my joy was quickly overtaken by confusion, as I marveled at the impossibility of The Beef, in the flesh, crying. This had to be some kind of trick being played on me by my senses, due possibly to the foolish combination of heat exhaustion and energy drinks. He stood up and quickly turned his face from me, shouting, "Don't look at me like this, please!" I moved to him and placed my hand on his should, gentle but firm, and whispered, "It's okay, Shia...I understand." See what happens next, after the jump! We spent the next several hours there in the clearing, Shia explaining the sorrow of his loneliness

Published: 2008-08-04
Provider: Best Week Ever
Keywords: Entertainment

“Crushed”: The Not-So-Brief Story Of Where I’ve Been These Past Few Weeks

I try to make it a point not to share too much about my personal life here, but seeing as we spend most every day together, I felt that owed you, dear readers, at least some small explanation for my absence these past few weeks. It all started when I went to Los Angeles to spend my vacation - as I do every summer - camped outside of The Motherf*cking LaBeouf's mansion in a week-long round-the-clock candlelight vigil with the hope of catching a live glimpse of the world's greatest Mangod in his natural habitat. Due to the terrible desert heat, by the third day I'd already consumed my entire supply of Full Throttle Energy Drinks, and having replaced the contents of each spent can with my own urine, which was beginning to stink, I briefly abandoned my post and voyaged into some nearby tree-cover hoping to find a clean and more private place to relieve myself. As I made my way through the brush, I came to a small clearing in which I discovered something that would change the course of my life forever: hunched against the trunk of an old dying tree was the form of what appeared to be a large boy or small man, whose head was buried in his knees as he heaved and sobbed violently. "Are you...okay?" I asked, ever so gently. When he looked up, my heart nearly exploded out of my chest, for there I stood, face to face with the glorious tear-stained visage of Shia LaBeouf. However, my joy was quickly overtaken by confusion, as I marveled at the impossibility of The Beef, in the flesh, crying. This had to be some kind of trick being played on me by my senses, due possibly to the foolish combination of heat exhaustion and energy drinks. He stood up and quickly turned his face from me, shouting, "Don't look at me like this, please!" I moved to him and placed my hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm, and whispered, "It's okay, Shia...I understand." See what happens next, after the jump! We spent the next several hours there in the clearing, Shia explaining the sorrow of his loneline

Published: 2008-08-04
Provider: VH1