“We co-sign that!” – the world
Around this time two years ago, we all put our most beloved valuables (read: weed, iPad loaded with porn and Hot Fries) in a waterproof bag and built a house raft in preparation for the great, big flood of Twihard tears that was threatening to drown the planet. Twihards cried out all the liquids in their bodies after Kristen Stewart was caught getting her snatch licked by Rupert Sanders’ bull dozer tongue. The world will never be the same again and it’s a miracle that the planet is still spinning. But if there’s one trick (besides all of us) you’ll never see at the annual ROBSTEN IS FOREVER UNBROKEN memorial held every year in a Twihard’s basement, it’s RPattz. RPattz is completely over that shit.
During an interview with Esquire UK to promote a couple of movies he’s in, the subject of the munch felt around the world came up and the former keeper of the Unicorn Forest shrugged it off like it meant nothing! Like it was just a set-up contract relationship for PR that ran to its expiration date after all those Twatlight movies came out. How dare he feel “meh” about a fake relationship!
“Shit happens, you know?” he laughs. “It’s just young people… it’s normal! And honestly, who gives a shit?”
“The hardest part was talking about it afterwards. Because when you talk about other people, it affects them in ways you can’t predict,” he says. “It’s like that scene in Doubt [2008, in which Philip Seymour Hoffman plays a priest suspected of inappropriate behaviour], where he’s talking about how to take back gossip? They throw all those feathers from a pillow into the sky and you’ve got to go and collect all the feathers.”
WHO GIVES A SHIT?! Say that to the thousands of crazed Twihards who literally can’t give a shit, because after that slut whore KStew admitted to passing her poon to another, they lost their shit, colon, gallbladder, stomach and intestines. Tell that to them, RPattz! And tell it to Nutty Madam!
Actually, I don’t even think she gives a shit anymore. She’s too busy bathing the world in sticky toffee panty pudding while watching the Fifty Shades of Shit trailer. Speaking of bathing in body fluids, toward the end of RPattz’s interview with Esquire UK, he dropped a blind item. While talking about asshole bitch actors who treat crew members like trash, he told a story about one actress who took a Kardashian Kalgon bath without knowing it.
“This actress was doing a scene in the bath and she kept complaining about the temperature, how it was too hot or too cold. So everyone pissed in it and put a bunch of bubble bath in afterwards so you couldn’t smell it! This stuff happens. That’s why I avoid asking for anything. I don’t want to get anyone’s piss on me.”
I don’t know if Laura Jeanne Poon (stage name: Reese Witherspoon) took a bath in Water for Elephants, but I’m going to pretend this is about her. Water for elephants, urine for Reese!
Here’s Lea Michele and Forever-Peg-Bundy-To-Me shooting a scene for Sons of Anarchy and Peg is getting her lit cigarette ready just in case she needs to shove it in Lea’s mouth if that trick gets the urge to break out into song - Lainey Gossip
If you zoomed into Cameron Diaz’s nipple, you’d see it cringing, because even it’s embarrassed to be a part of this mess – (NSFW) Drunken Stepfather
Lisa Vanderpump is selling Villa Blanca and hopefully who ever buys it turns it into a Buffalo Wild Wings, because that stretch of Beverly Hills could use some real fine dining – Reality Tea
Chelsea Handler’s “power clique of Hollywood A-listers” is nothing without CHARO! – Celebitchy
I didn’t know The Difficult Brown moved next door to George Zimmerman – WWTDD
Selena Gomez wore an outfit from Contempo Casuals that JLo most likely wore in 1996 - The Superficial
DanRad should’ve used a Flowbee – Towleroad
Jessica Barrymore, the half-sister of Drew Barrymore, was found dead in her car – Popsugar
ICYMI: A little girl delivers the raw emotion after finding out that her baby brother is going to grow up one day and as she cries, her parents also cry while thinking about how much cash they’re going to make when they put this video on YouTube - The Berry
Arianda Grande Latte’s “selfie” photo shoot for Seventeen Magazine is a mess in every way – Hollywood Tuna
MiserAlba’s doing the “ahs have a sexy migraine” pose on Maxim – Popoholic
The Into The Woods movie doesn’t look completely awful – Pajiba
Ceiling Eyes is single again – ICYDK
Iggy Azalea’s going to be in the 7 millionth Fast & Furious movie – HuffPo
I spent way too much time watching Lana Del Rey eat an orange like it was a dick – Just Jared
Two pussies, 1 box – OMG Blog
Justin Bieber took his little ass to Instagram to once again slap at Orlando Bloom after Orlando threw a punch at him during a fight over Miranda Kerr at Cipriani’s early this morning. The Biebs is a popped dick pimple, but he’s right. Orlando Bloom should be crying. Orlando should be squirting out tears, because he had the chance to make humanity proud by knuckling the Biebs in the face and he failed. He failed himself and he failed us all. How do you live with yourself after that?
The Biebs gets really hard when he’s hiding behind Instagram. I picture him uploading that picture and screaming at his bodyguards, “Hold me back, bros! Hold me back! Don’t make me press enter on that bitch! Hold me back!” That peach-fuzzed butt nugget spits out a lot of shit when he’s hiding behind a screen, but get him in front of Orlando and he’d behind an adult before running for the exit door while screaming and crying for his mommy. Hmmm…Why does that description I just typed feel so familiar and why did my monitor suddenly turn into a mirror? It’s making it really hard to type and talk shit.
And here’s the object of Orlando and the Biebs’ douche fight at some Escada event in Munich, Germany last night. This might be the last time you see Miranda Kerr’s face, because she should get a face transplant and become entirely unrecognizable now that everyone knows that she probably fucked Justin Bieber.
I’m not sure why, but I just pictured that floppy tit speaking in a charming Cockney accent. “Allo luv! Fancy meeting you ‘ere! Don’t mind me, just ‘avin a wee snooze in the sun before Coronation Street.”
Mermaids everywhere officially hung up their seashell bras and retired today after Lindsay Lohan was spotted strolling a beach in Ibiza looking like a sloppy-titted sea siren. And by sea siren, I mean she set off the siren that alerts beach visitors that the sea has been contaminated by toxic self-tanner sludge and random clumps of orange hair and the beach will be closed until further notice. No! She really does look like a mermaid; like Ariel, if Ariel sold her voice to Ursula for two baggies of coke instead of two legs.
Seeing the Apricot Ashtray slithering around the beaches of Ibiza with her floppy freckled pancakes hanging out makes me feel a lot of things (queasy, nauseous, dry heave-y) but mostly it makes me feel sorry for Ibiza. First Orlando Bloom gets into a dramatic douche fight Justin Bieber in a nightclub, and now Lindsay Lohan is assaulting eyes by serving up a heaping helping of sloppy side boob in one of White Oprah’s trashy old stretched-out Body Glove bathing suits from the 80s. Poor Ibiza; when did you become the Florida of Europe?
And speaking of Florida, apparently there are people in Ibiza who are dumb enough to let Lindsay operate a jet ski. It probably took her all of 10 minutes before she whipped out her phone, started texting her dealer, and rear-ended a dolphin. Then when the cops came to arrest her, she tried to blame it on a starfish. Wait, can you get a DUI on a jet ski? I’m sure Lindsay will find a way.
Pics: Fame Flynet
If you didn’t read any of the names in that headline, you’re probably really confused and wondering why Kate Gosselin circa 2006 is holding hands with Michael Stipe as they make their way to a costume party whose theme is “It Fell Out Of The Butthole Of The 80s.”
This is ScarJo and her sharp-as-all-hell fiancé and the father of her unborn baby Romain Dauriac (that’s “butchering hos with style” in French) strutting through NYC yesterday. The big story here is supposed to be that ScarJo chopped off her hair, dyed it the color of your first-of-the-morning piss and now looks like Mia Michaels. Throw a baggy apron with attached pants (those are no overalls) on her body and she looks like Mia Michaels working as a hostess at a Dexys Midnight Runners theme restaurant that floods a lot. But the real star here is her man’s ensemble. He looks like the new assistant scoutmaster of Troop Beverly Hills.
That ensemble is so wrong it’s right. That outfit is single-handedly ruining every memory you have from the 80s.
1. That hat. In the 80s, you begged and begged your parents to get you a hat like the one Boy George wore. On Christmas morning, you opened up a box and pulled out a hat that wasn’t black and wasn’t at all like Boy George’s. It was all wrong. You wore it anyway and felt like hot shit while doing so. Romain worked that hat better. The memory of your childhood in the 80s is now forever ruined.
2. That shirt. In the 80s, the grandpa you thought hated you came to visit you right after you had your tonsils taken out. He brought you ice cream, read you a story and told you he loved you. He was wearing that shirt, double pleated emerald green pants and green leather loafers. Romain worked that shirt better. The memory of your grandpa in the 80s is now forever ruined.
3. Those shorts. In the 80s, your mom had to come pick you up from summer camp early, because your weak ass was really homesick and caught a little bit of food poisoning. When she got out of the car, you ran toward her, hugged her and accidentally barfed on her shorts. She was wearing those shorts. She told you not to worry about it since she was planning to donate those shorts because they made her crotch look like Jabba the Hutt’s armpit vagina. Romain worked those shorts better. The memories of summer camp, Jabba the Hutt and your mom in the 80s are now forever ruined.
I still have a few of my clothes from the 80s, but I’m going to burn them all now. Because every time I pull out my acid wash jean vest, I’m going to say to myself, “Ugh, ScarJo’s man can work this better.”
After boring us all into a coma last month with human chloroform-soaked rag Lana Del Zzzzz, Rolling Stone decided to violently shake our asses awake by putting a migraine-triggering Katy Perry on the cover this month. I wasn’t entirely sold on the whole “90s Claire’s sale rack realness” until I saw those gorgeous squared-off French tip acrylics she has on her fingers. Exquisite porn star blow job nails are always the look.
But for those of you looking at Katy’s nails and that choker made from anal beads like “I see this bitch has resorted to snatching at porn star culture now”, Katy Perry would like you to know she’s not blatantly ripping off shit because she’s a clueless middle-class white chick from Santa Barbara. She’s ripping off Egypt and Geishas because she appreciates shit at a deeper level. Like when she dressed up her backup dancers as Nicki Minaj-looking mummies; they weren’t supposed to be hoochie mamas, they were an homage to surgery-obsessed Beverly Hills-types:
“As far as the mummy thing, I based it on plastic surgery. Look at someone like Kim Kardashian or Ice-T’s wife, Coco. Those girls aren’t African-American. But it’s actually a representation of our culture wanting to be plastic, and that’s why there’s bandages and it’s mummies. I thought that would really correlate well together… It came from an honest place. If there was any inkling of anything bad, then it wouldn’t be there, because I’m very sensitive to people.”
Although she understands that some people took offense to it, so from now on, she’ll only do white people things, like wearing Tevas and pouring ranch dressing on everything:
“I guess I’ll just stick to baseball and hot dogs, and that’s it. I know that’s a quote that’s gonna come to fuck me in the ass, but can’t you appreciate a culture? I guess, like, everybody has to stay in their lane? I don’t know.”
And it doesn’t matter that you think she’s a sloppy copycat, because Katy Perry says Katy Perry is the hardest working bovine in the business:
“Every show day, from the moment I wake up, it’s just prep for that night. It’s like I’m a Kobe beef cow.”
But one thing she isn’t ready to culturally appropriate just yet is mom jeans and pregnancy farts, because she’s too busy playing dress-up to catch a case of fetus fever:
“I want to be doing that in the right time. And that’s not in the next two years, you know? Maybe it’s in a five-year plan, but I need to really be able to focus 100 percent of my attention on it. I don’t really want to take the child on tour. Not until, like, birth through five is over.”
I’m glad Katy doesn’t want to take a baby on tour, because I can’t imagine how confused that baby would be. “So, is my mom the Cleopatra-looking one, or the pastel LSD fairy, or the budget Hot Topic Catra? Where’s the one who shoots whipped cream from her tits? I want that one. Baby’s hungry.”
Page Six has made it their new goal in life to destroy the Illuminati’s chosen couple and when they published stories about how Jay-Z is passing his camel rocket to RiRi and Beyonce is looking to buy a penthouse of her very own, I figured she’d answer to those rumors by Instagramming a picture of her and RiRi making friendship bracelets together at a BFFs-only slumber party and a picture of her and her husband boning in their living room under a Home Sweet Home wreath. Beyonce didn’t Instagram anything like that, but she did Instagram a picture of Jay-Z and God’s spirit guide Blue Ivy Carter strolling along a beach that looks like it’s covered in bunny shit. Beyonce threw the STUNT QUEEN Instagram filter on it and added this note:
My favorite hue is JayZ Blue
Bey, please. We all know your favorite hue is Get Money Green (but whose isn’t?). Case in point: The Fifty Shades Of Grey trailer.
Nice try, Beyonce, but it’s obvious that isn’t Jay-Z or Blue Ivy Carter. We can’t see their faces! Beyonce couldn’t take a picture of Jay-Z, because he was too busy dropping camel saliva bombs on RiRi’s airport runway forehead while doing her missionary style. Beyonce couldn’t take a picture of BIC, because that baby was too blabbering in goo goo gaga talk to the team of interior designers who are designing her wing of the Manhattan penthouse her mom bought. That’s obviously one of Beyonce’s minions in a Joe Camel costume and the part of Blue Ivy Carter is being played by a slimmed down Emmanuel Lewis. Beyonce is shameless and thinks we’re all about as dumb as a dried glob of wig glue, but at least she gave Emmanuel Lewis a job. I will give her that.
Let’s all put our money together and hire a bunch of wailing women to cry for Kate Upton, because when the poor thing was a kid she suffered from a severe disability called being pretty. Before Kate Upton used her huge tits and looks to make millions upon millions of dollars, she was just a regular Florida farm girl whose prettiness was an “inconvenience.” (“Inconvenience?! You’d think the prettiest cow in the farm would get all the attention and be saved from the slaughter house every time.” – Carol Alt)
Kate Upton, the future chairwoman of the We Survived Being Pretty Foundation, tells Elle UK (via E!) that she was always pretty, but when she was a girl, being pretty hurt her rather than helped her. That isn’t the only thing that will pull at your eye rolling muscle. Kate also said that she’d happily give up all her millions and fame to go back to living a simple life on the farm. The Anna Nicole of this generation (sans charisma, smarts and a hot side kick like Assistant Kimmy) spit out these dingles to Elle UK:
On growing up pretty: “Living on a farm, beauty doesn’t get you anywhere. Because I was pretty didn’t mean I could convince my sister to do my chores. It was kind of inconvenient to be pretty, growing up.”
On how money means nothing to her: “I feel like I’m rich because I love my family and friends. I love my horse and my dog. I would be fine leaving all of this behind and living on a farm somewhere.”
On how she thanked God when her gigantic chichis popped up on her chest: “I was really excited about becoming a woman. Because I’m from Florida, it’s all about being in bathing suits. It’s a different view of beauty there. You are ugly if you don’t have a curvy body. And I didn’t have one, and then I got one, and thought, ‘Yessss!’ And then people say, ‘Oh, wow, you’re healthy.’ And you’re like, ‘Wait – what?’ I’ve been begging for this body my whole life!’”
“Inconvenient” doesn’t mean what Kate Upton thinks it means, but I’ll give her a pass. During that interview, words and definitions got mixed up in that empty helium tank head of hers, because she was really frazzled from reliving the traumatic experience of growing up pretty. Those of us who were awkward, homely and a mess as kids looked at the pretty, white girls and figured they had it good. We were not only wrong to judge, but we were flat-out wrong. They had it worse! That Twilight Zone episode is real. Thank you, Kate Upton, for bringing this taboo subject to the surface. Kate Upton is so brave and so courageous. #NotAllPrettyGirls
Whoopi Goldberg Pulled A Whoopi Goldberg By Defending Stephen A. Smith’s Domestic Abuse Comments On The View
I guess Whoopi Goldberg’s official title at The View is “The Devil’s Chatty Advocate”, because once again, she’s come to the defense of the not-right words falling out of some jerk’s talk-hole. Whoopi has defended Mel Gilbson’s infamous racist rant, defended Roman Polanski by inventing the word “rape-rape”, and most recently, defended human hershey squirt Justin Bieber’s use of the n-word. And now we can add Stephen A. Smith’s name to the list of people sending Whoopi an Edible Arrangement with a little note that says “xo thanks boo!”
On Monday’s episode of The View, the hens started clucking about the questionable remarks ESPN’s Stephen A. Smith made about domestic violence in response to the story of Baltimore Ravens running back Ray Rice beating his wife in a casino and dragging her unconscious body out of an elevator. Smith has since been suspended for saying that it’s never OK for a man to pull a Chris Brown on his wife, but that sometimes a lady needs to “make sure” she doesn’t “do anything to provoke wrong actions”. On Monday, Smith apologized for his comments, but Whoopi wasn’t having any of that “I sowwy” shit. Whoopi grabbed for the bottle of Shits About To Get REAL-brand vodka she keeps stashed under her chair, took two giant swigs, and defended Stephen A. Smith for speaking the TRUTH:
“If you hit somebody, you cannot be sure you are not going to get hit back!…If you make the choice as a woman who’s four foot three and you decide to hit a guy who’s six feet tall and you’re the last thing he wants to deal with that day and he hits you back, you cannot be surprised!”
I think Whoopi needs to walk her ass to the optometrist and get the prescription on her glasses checked, because if a mouth breather like Sherri Shepherd is staring at you like you’ve got dried smegma flakes for brains and noted dum-dum Jenny McCarthy is sending you “Oh here go hell come” vibes, it might be time to stop talking. And if she did see the army of shank-eyes staring back at her and choose to keep running her mouth, well then Whoopi truly does not give a fuck anymore, and I look forward to the day she shows up to tape The View wearing her neon green and purple Oscar gown while eating slices of apple off the blade of a knife like a pirate.
(via The Wrap)