Plenty of famous women exude a healthy, feminine charm, a reserved beauty and refined grace that keeps them respectable even while they titillate. Plenty of celebrity men have a classy demeanor, yet just enough of a rakish-scoundrel glint in their eyes to turn them into the mysterious stranger in many a fantasy.
These are not those men and women. These are the ones who frequently appear in public with various genitals on proud display, a new fuck-buddy on their arm every other day, and are constantly emerging from club bathrooms looking like they fell face-first into a pile of flour.
They always look like they need a bath, and we keep watching them because we think it's pretty likely they're going to die soon.
These are the skanks, and 2010 had quite a few.
Miley Cyrus: We'll start off slow, because really, Miley's skank turn says just as much about us as it does about her. Ever since she was around 15 or so, the Internet paparazzi vultures have been hovering around her, waiting for the increasingly cute but underage Cyrus to do something naughty.
They've gotten pictures of her in the shower and naked off of her cell phone, they've gotten pictures of her flashing her panties getting out of limos, and of course there's the recent video of her smoking salvia and speaking in tongues. The whole world has basically been following her around demanding she go slutty ever since she was a young girl, so really, how could she avoid giving us what we wanted all along?
Her outfits this year - even the ones she just walked around in from day to day - were skimpier than ever, her stage show turned from teenybopper fluff to erotic cabaret, and of course the people she thinks are friends made a fortune selling risque videos and pictures of her partying in private.
Miley Cyrus is a perfect case study for when we ask, "Who ruins these girls and makes them act this way?" Because so often, we do.
Ke(Dollar Sign)ha: Of course, sometimes the skankitude is true blue, through and through. Now, it's possible that Ke(Dollar Sign)ha isn't as big of a skank as she likes to let on, but following her antics ever since her mindless Auto-Tune anthem "Tik Tok" blew up at the beginning of the year, you'll rarely if ever see her looking even vaguely sober, or even coherent.
She dresses in outlandish costumery and smears herself with body paint and glitter to hide the fact that she's kind of an average-looking chick with an ass like a tombstone. She's like Lady Gaga without the muscle tone, musical ability and artistic self-parody; when Lady Gaga wears a meat dress, she's making some kind of statement, even if that statement is "Holy shit am I ever crazy!" But if Ke(Dollar Sign)ha ever wore a meat dress, it would be because she popped too much Hydrocodone and passed out in a slaughterhouse.
Only a couple of days ago, pictures surfaced of some brave lad eating out her monster box, presumably with Ke(Dollar Sign)ha's hired goons just off-camera pointing Uzis at his family. It looked like a fraternity initiation in which the pledge must explode a bologna sandwich with an M-80 and then eat it off a movie-theater floor. Actually, you couldn't even see her vagina in the picture - the angle is down her belly peering over her pubic mound - so that's just the conclusion we've reached from the expression on the dude's face.
We've seen more serene-looking expressions on prisoners of war neck-deep in rice-paddy water in Vietnam. If that poor bastard doesn't pop up in the next few days with severe post-traumatic stress disorder, Rocks Off will shit in our hats. He's going to spend New Year's Eve hopping from exorcist to exorcist trying to rid himself of the angry poltergeists he caught from her haunted snatch.
Ke(Dollar Sign)ha is fucking gross.
Russell Brand: Don't get the idea that we're women-haters here at Rocks Off. There are men who are just as deserving of the title of "skank" as any woman, and Russell Brand, aka. Mr. Katy Perry, fills that bill quite nicely even though, we must admit, his stand-up isn't bad and he tends to make watchable movies.
Do you know why he dresses like a bisexual rock-star dandy on his way to an Everything Gets Sucked party at Elton John's place circa 1976? It's because underneath all that stylish finery, he's looking pretty haggard. That beard is hiding some premature jowls, his skin retains a typical English corpse-like pallor, and his general demeanor is that of having only minutes ago been kicked out of a taxi for shitting his $800 pants.
Sure, he's skinny, but it's not a healthy skinny, it looks more like he's been subsisting on a diet of whiskey, cigarettes and cocktail peanuts since he graduated high school. If he even knows what a shower is, it would be a humongous surprise. When Katy leads him in to bathe him, she has to speak to him in a soothing, reassuring voice so that he doesn't pick up the toilet plunger and start swatting at the spigots in caveman-like fear and confusion.
She has to reassure him that it's just a bathtub and ordinary water, instead of some kind of mechanical water snake she's trying to feed him to.
Lindsay Lohan: The Mean Girls star is the embodiment of why people who don't live in Hollywood despise people who do. Then again, the rest of Hollywood has finally run out of patience with Lindsay, too; the only thing she could get cast in this year was a cheesy throwback exploitation flick where she was supposed to look like a banged-up junkie hosebag, and even still, they could only successfully wrangle her in for three days of shooting on Machete.
She did drugs and lied about it so much that even the star-sucking Hollywood justice system had no choice but to throw her in jail, an act which shocked her to tears, since she was so used to getting away with wrecking cars, breaking property and the lot while high out of her mind and never suffering the consequences.
The degeneration of Lindsay from promising young actress to spoiled, entitled little asshole has been difficult to watch, especially since there's not a single decent parental influence in her life. Her father is an obsessive, psychotic shyster and her mother is just as much of a brainless party skank as she is, if not moreso. People balked at the sexist, master-and-slave overtones of the Samuel L. Jackson film Black Snake Moan, but hell, it seems like it would take something like that to save Lindsay.
This girl needs to be removed from her toxic environment and chained to a radiator for a couple of months. Hey, could be the next big mental-health fad in Hollywood.
Scott Weiland: We're not sure if Scott Weiland has ever really known what the hell was going on around him. He was in a band called Stone Temple Pilots, which came to be when the band were staring at a bottle of STP motor oil ("while high," they've never come out and said, but come on).
His voice changes from album to album, depending on which singer with actual artistic merit he feels like ripping off, and he's constantly strung out and screwing everything up. Stone Temple Pilots dissolved because he kept dropping out of tours to go into rehab, and once they broke up, Weiland got drafted into Velvet Revolver, which... okay. Velvet Revolver was made up of all of Guns N' Roses except for Axl, because everyone was sick of his crazy shit.
That they then chose to hire Scott Weiland to sing for their new project has to be the dumbest fucking move of all time. It's like that girl you know who won't stop dating guys who hit her. It's like breaking up with a guy because he kind of gives you the creeps, and then immediately hooking up with Ted Bundy.
Weiland got back together with Stone Temple Pilots for a reunion tour and, after a disastrous show in Houston, dropped out yet again to return to rehab. At this point, we're less inclined to joke around and more inclined to do some digging and see if we can find some kind of Battered Bands Shelter for the rest of STP in hopes that they can be counseled into acquiring the self-esteem it takes to never, ever work with him again.
We hope Scott is getting the help he needs, if for no other reason than that once he's sober we're much less likely to see him shirtless onstage swiveling his bony hips like Jack Skellington giving a lap dance.
Courtney Love: We feel bad adding to the mountain of bad press Love has already gotten this year, but seeing as how this is a list of 2010's biggest skanks, to leave her out would be like making a list of famous parodists and omitting Weird Al.
She's the standard by which all the little skanks-in-training attempt to live up to, from the uncomfortably sexed-up mall-walkers who look to be of legal age from a distance but very decidedly are not, to the back-alley burnouts sneaking cigarettes and Xanax out of their mothers' purses before disappearing for days at a time.
It was a bad year, even by Courtney's standards. We'd known she was broke for quite some time, then it came to light exactly how broke she was. She seemed poised for a comeback when her new single "Skinny Little Bitch" hit the airwaves, but that petered out when the rest of the album Nobody's Daughter failed to live up to its promise. She salvaged a little bit of a return to glory with her largely successful tour, but even that was marred by the occasional bizarre onstage meltdown that had her shedding clothing, forgetting lyrics, and babbling like a bus-stop lunatic for minutes at a time.
To top it all off, her daughter Francis Bean finally had enough and left, and the two are now estranged, despite Courtney's heart-rendingly desperate pleas on her very public Twitter account. We still hope that Courtney gets her shit together someday, but gosh, looking back on the pattern thus far, it almost seems unlikely, you know?
Bret Michaels: Hey ladieeees! Ever wanted to date a washed-up boy-whore from a long-irrelevant hair-metal band whose midlife crisis makes him wear more eyeliner than you do? No? What if we put you on TV?
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
A-ha! And so a legend was born, as Bret Michaels and a legion of shallow gold-diggers did their best to out-skank one another over the course of three agonizing seasons of the VH1 "reality" show, Rock of Love. Michaels, who looks oddly swollen as if he is constantly in minor anaphylactic shock, struts and preens his way through each episode, surveying the women over in a clinical fashion as if they are nothing more than meat.
Of course, thanks to the caliber of woman they get on that show he is correct, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch. Now mind you, the guy did have a rough year. First he had an emergency appendectomy, then a massive stroke, then a hole in his heart was discovered which had to be repaired. All this happened within the space of a few weeks.
Will he reform and begin living a more well-rounded and fulfilling life, or will he return to douchebagging it up on any reality show that will have him? Let's put it this way: the first thing he did once he got out of the hospital was show up in time to win Celebrity Apprentice.
Prognosis not good.