At last night’s NYC premiere of the soon-to-be Razzie sweeper W.E., Madge told reporters that she was crossing her fingers and hoping that the academy would be so fearful of her wrath that they’d throw a bunch of nominations at her. Cut to this morning when she woke up in her coffin with a giant bouquet of hydrangeas on top and a note from the academy that read: Thanks, but no thanks. Okay, okay, technically W.E. was nominated for an Oscar (for Best Costume), so I guess the male members of the academy are still a little scared that Madge will crawl up into their beds at night, rip their nutsacks out with one bite and then replace the heads on the Oscar trophies with their gold-plated huevos.
For once, I can’t really make fun of the shit that Madge wore to her premiere last night (or the shit she wore while escorting Baby Brahim to his nursery for bedtime). Bitch looks like the evil queen double fisting two tutu-wearing ballerinas. It’s totally appropriate! Speaking of fisting, I also can’t make fun of Madge’s (DO NOT CLICK ON THAT NSFL LINK!!!) veiny testicle hands for once. I thought about it and if I was ever in the market for a silicone fist, I’d buy one modeled after Madge’s hand. Four words: Veiny For Your Pleasure. I mean, John Travolta so wants to make sweet love to Madge’s hand right now.