So Johnny Depp was photographed in London on the set of Mortdecai looking like a mash up of Kevin Kline in Soapdish and Gary Oldman’s Commissioner Gordon and I don’t know how I feel about it. Normally Johnny goes straight to the “would fuck” column with very few exceptions (same goes for Kevin and Gary). He can keep Willy Wonka, who was one blur filter and a sassy collar hold away from being a pin-up for Glamorshots, and his creepy ass Frodo Baggins version of the Mad Hatter but otherwise, I thought he could get it anytime.
I already had enough fucking problems with my tears freezing this morning because my pansy assed, native Californian self can’t take this “four degrees with a fifteen below windchill” stuff. These pictures of Johnny in his Motel 6 bedspread shorty shorts and sock suspenders made my vagina cry and thanks to this bullshit weather, I’m pretty much an automatic ice dispenser from the waist down. It’s a sad day when not even the pics of him rolling around on the ground with another dude can turn my frozen tundra into a sunny lanai.
Call me when Johnny starts wearing forty-seven bracelets and six scarves again and his hair doesn’t look like it was harvested from a Cabbage Patch Cornsilk doll. When hot hobo Johnny is back, if you hear about the arrest of a 35 year old Midwest housewife who tried to tackle him while pointing at her crotch and screaming, “THERE SHOULD BE A CAPTAIN IN THERE SOMEWHERE!”, please have bail money ready.
I guess the only question left to ask is: would you hit it??
Slush Puppie is a delicious, diabetes-inducing ICEE that’s made up of ice and approximately 35,000 grams of flavored sugar. If real-life ice queen Nicole Kidman ate a whole lot of pineapple, her lady squirts would probably taste like a Slush Puppie. Anyway, Slush Puppie is the brand’s official mascot. I know, the dog mascot of a frozen summertime treat is a HSOTD in the middle of December. I’m so timely!
I thought about Slush Puppie this morning, because the news and my NY friends on AIM tell me that it’s snowing over there. During my first NYC blizzard, a friend and I were walking to the bar, and since I was a snow newbie and an 8-year-old stoner in the head, I said that it felt like we were trapped in a giant Slush Puppie machine. He said, “Yeah, if the flavors are Hobo Piss and Black Death.” So hearing that it’s snowing NYC made me sort of miss the days of almost breaking my ass bone on the sidewalk while trapped in a giant Hobo Piss Slush Puppie.
I think they still sell Slush Puppies at finer fast food restaurants and gourmet gas stations, so today I will put my parka over my tank top and coochie cutters, slip on my winter time flip-flops (they look like this), get into my car and brave the 60 degree temperatures to find a Slush Puppie. If I can’t find a Slush Puppie, I’ll just get a cup of ice and ask a hobo to piss in it. If I add about 500 packets of sugar to that cup of iced hobo piss, it’d be exactly like a Slush Puppie!
Xavier Samuel (30)
Summer Phoenix (35)
Emmanuelle Chriqui (36)
Evelyn Lozada (38)
Meg White (39)
Arden Myrin (40)
Bobby Flay (49)
Nia Peeples (52)
Sir Kenneth Branagh (53)
Rod Blagojevich (57)
Susan Dey (61)
Gloria Loring (67)
Fionnula Flanagan (72)
Agnes Nixon (91)
Throughout the weekend, an article from the satire site The Daily Currant where Kanye West claimed that he was the next Nelson Mandela made the rounds and everybody took it as real, because it’s not far off from some of the ridiculousness that has spewed out of his mouth. Well, the shit that R. Kelly said to The Guardian’s G2 supplement (via The Independent), which is not a satire site, I think, is almost as messy as the fake quote about Nelson Mandela that didn’t come out of Kanye’s mouth.
R. Kelly said that he sympathizes with Chris Brown, because they both did some wrong shit and climbed back up. Okay. R. Kelly probably should’ve stopped there and he only would’ve gotten a few side-eyes. But he kept going and just had to compare The Difficult Brown to Martin Luther King Jr. and Jesus. R. Kelly speaks in third person so you already know this is going to be extra fucked up and after reading it you’ll know what it feels like for him to piss on your eyeballs after eating a whole lot of asparagus.
“I only feel sorry for weak people. And mostly what I’ve come to find is that the weak people are the ones that are the haters. The ones that’s talking about Chris Brown, or R. Kelly, or anybody that’s successful? I feel sorry for them, not Chris Brown, because he’s obviously one strong individual to be able to do what he’s done. He got knocked down a little bit and he climbed up. You know, that sounds like Ali to me. That sounds like Martin Luther King to me. That sounds like a lot of the greats that have walked this earth. It even sounds a little bit like Jesus to me.”
Jesus is probably on Kayak booking his second coming right now and Martin Luther King’s coming with his ass so they can both slap this bitch down for talking crazy.
I don’t remember The Difficult Brown ever getting knocked down.. He knocked a few people down, beat in his girlfriend’s face, smashed a few windows and slapped some others around. I guess that’s practically the same thing as getting knocked down a little bit, right, R. Kelly? And Martin Luther King Jr. fought against intolerance and Chris Brown fought his girlfriend until she ended up in the hospital. Practically twinsies!
On a positive note, whenever R. Kelly is in an interview spewing out some dumb shit, it means at that moment he’s not spewing piss on some underage ass cheeks. There’s always a bright side.
In a video that looks like a terrifying clip cut from The Ring or like the beginning a 70s snuff film shot on 8mm, The Curious Case of Ali Lohan introduces herself and then sings out a few lines of Xtina’s “Beautiful.” Since the whole modeling thing didn’t really work out and White Oprah’s not going to pay for those unpaid invoices from her back alley pharmacists herself, Ali Lohan is trying to make a few ad revenue coins from singing on YouTube. And if that doesn’t work out, White Oprah will sell her to scientists who will study her to find out what kind of fucked-up chemicals make up a Lohan.
Ali Lohan has the exact same talking voice as this dude who lived next door to me when we were both 15. He had a mullet, only drank Shasta, only wore tank tops bought in gas stations, always smelled like a mixture of Irish Spring and a wet ash tray, was always out of breath and he had the raspiest voice ever. If extra coarse sandpaper grew vocal cords and a mouth and could speak, it would sound exactly like this kid. He wasn’t a smoker, but his mom and grandma were and he lived with their asses. They always had a cigarette in their hands and I never saw them exhale without a cloud of cigarette smoke coming out of their mouths. The walls of his house were always stained and sticky and the first time I hung out there, it was so smoky I thought that bitch was on fire. They were the cigarette industry’s dream family! Dude didn’t have smoker’s voice, but he did have a severe case of second hand smoker’s voice. So when I hear Ali Lohan talk, I see that dude I made it out with once in the back of a garage refrigerator when I was 15. It’s weirding me out.
As for her singing… She should’ve officially retired as a singer after Lohan Holiday, because she can never top that musical masterpiece. Here’s the karaoke version for your next holiday party:
Thank you, Harry Styles! My job is easier when the jokes write themselves; an Egg McMuffin basket is coming your way.
Harry Styles (a name that always sounds like a character from an Austin Powers movie) has another album to promote, which means his high-profile showmance with a Jenner is still going strong! Do I even need to specify which Jenner? They’re the same fucking person; dark shiny hair, drowsy-ass eyes, and about as much personality as the busted handle on a shopping bag. But of you MUST know, it’s still Kendall (aka not the one that looks like a dead ringer for Marla Hooch).
E! Online reports that Harry and Kendall (Karry? Hendall? Whocares? Yes, that one!) followed up their dinner date in LA last month with a date at the Gansevoort Hotel in NYC on Saturday. Chill out, moms across America, I can guarantee you they weren’t fucking. Harry and Kendall probably watched Clueless on Netflix while Kendall’s agents, Kris Jenner and Beelzebub, finalized contract specifics (“For the last time, Ms. Jenner, there will be no sex tape released. Please stop setting up the tripod for your Sony Handycam” - Harry’s agent).
After leaving the hotel, Us Weekly reports that Harry and Kendall’s snore-show (I’d call it Ambien! The Musical) made it’s way to Therapy, a gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen. According to bargoers, the two never got up to dance because – DUH – spontaneous natural movement doesn’t run in Kendall’s family. Kendall, stop being lazy; do you want to put “bearding” as a skill on your resume or not? Just remember: what would the Patron Saint of Hired Girlfriends, Taylor Swift do? She’d dance, call the paps, brush her hair 1000 strokes, AND hold a baby at the same time to convince us her and Harry were the real deal.
Fans are reacting about as predictably crazy One Direction fans would (ie. crazy, supportive, happy, crazy) but the best reaction to Harry and Kendall’s coupling I found comes from a commenter known simply as Me:
Don’t you just want to hug her? Oh, you dear, sweet, clueless little thing; you have so much to learn about
strategic marketing and PR romance.
Lifetime Movie Queen and forever-Elyse-Keaton-to-me, Meredith Baxter, got married to her lady love over the weekend and I really hope one of their guests gave her bride a Supercuts gift certificate, because no newlywed lesbian should start her wedded life with Kate Gosselin hair - Queerty
I see that Miley Cyrus bought an Anna Wintour wig at a Halloween clearance sale at Ricky’s - Lainey Gossip
Susan Boyle has Asperger’s syndrome and I have a syndrome that makes me want to type “ass burger” every time I have to type Asperger – Celebitchy
Danny Noriega from American Idol is one of the competing queens on the next Drag Race and this is only good news if his exquisite cholita mother makes a cameo appearance – Towleroad
Crime boss Lindsay Lohan does a little Instagram modeling after ordering a hit on Wonky McValtrex’s little brother – Drunken Stepfather
The Jolly Green Ukrainian Giant and Little Sprout are spreading their enchanted forest love through Germany – IDLYITW
Sad news to all teen girls who want to bareback fuck a reality show contract into them: MTV canceled Teen Mom 3 – Reality Tea
Ceiling Eyes is still working the stroll – The Superficial
I just stared at Rose McGowan’s crotch for way too long while trying to guess whose face is on her snatch – Popoholic
Have a seat all Sports Illustrated models, because nobody can work a two piece like Steven Tyler – Hollywood Tuna
Something called the Sportsman Channel is giving something called a Sarah Palin a TV show – Jezebel
Katy Perry went on the Brit Brit meltdown diet after her marriage ate shit – ICYDK
Brit Brit wants a little girl so she won’t feel so alone in the world…. – Popsugar
I guess it’s never too late for some Rutger Hauer dick bush – (NSFW) OMG Blog
Spalding from American Horror Story: Coven, is that you, girl? – The Berry
The new Nymphomaniac poster could double as a PSA for hos who let Shia LaDouche near their vagina: bring a book, because you might get bored – Pajiba
The Friday Night Lights movie is never ever ever EVER ever going to happen – Videogum
Gavin Rossdale hangs out with Daisy Lowe – Just Jared
The Twins from the Matrix, every Komondor dog and the white mop that’s been sitting in my mom’s garage for years are just some of the bitches who work the white dreads look better than Lady CaCa does – I’m Not Obsessed
These pictures of 73-year-old Roberto Cavalli on Miami Beach were taken on Thursday and the clean-up crews are still working overtime to remove all the gallons of pussy foam and panty pudding that spewed out of hos when he came struttin’ onto the beach looking like Heat Miser’s sexy and hotter pepaw. Roberto Cavalli looks like Michigan J. Frog after falling in a vat of boiling oil, and I know that the next time you’re eating Korean BBQ, you’re going to suck on a fried frog leg for a little while longer while thinking of his Hello My Baby, Hello My Honey hotness.
And you probably didn’t read any of those words above, because his Viagra-powered boner kept poking your eyes. I’ll speak for all of us when I say: WE WOULD. Go ahead and throw glares of jealousy at his gold digging piece for getting to suck on his snail egg nipples every night. She doesn’t mind. She’s used to it.
I had to double-check nearly 9 times that I had found Tila Tequila’s actual, for real, not-hacked Facebook page because each time I clicked on it, my brain kept saying: “This cannot be it. Did I spell Tequila wrong? Why does she keep referring to herself as God’s Warrior? Is there more than one God Warrior? I thought there was only one.” What I’m saying is that Tila Tequila is for-fucking-real CRAZY, you guys (in other news: water is wet, sky is blue, Kris Jenner is a reptile).
Tila Tequila took a break from ranting about Nazis and Zionists (yes, really) to talk about the death of Elisa Lam, a woman who’s body was found dead on the roof of a hotel. She then explains that the woman’s death was a ritualistic killing. Just like Paul Walker’s. Wait, WHAT?
“But I’ll keep talking anyway…”
Two words: THE FUUUUUUUCK?!?! Let me get this straight: Tila believes that Paul Walker was ritually murdered by an occult group as a sacrifice, right? Wait, so who was driving the car? One of the occultists? Was Vin Diesel in on it? This is crazy. No, fuck that, this is crazy-crazy. Even the crazy homeless guy ranting on your subway car about aliens as he pops a squat and takes a hot dump is thinking “This bitch is certifiable. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to mail a letter to Jesus c/o The Pentagon”.
Someone needs to call the giant bottle of 99¢ Store drain cleaner and disposable g-string that made Tila and tell them they need to come and pick up their kid, because homegirl’s gone off the deep end. What happened? It seems like just yesterday she was ordering shots of love, and now she’s holed up in her House of Crazy in a tinfoil hat (and matching nipple covers) ranting online about end times and murders and the “Synagogue of Satan” (HER WORDS NOT MINE PLS DON’T SEND ME EMAILS). How many signatures do we need on a petition before MTV takes it seriously and creates a show called A Shot at Sanity? 16 psych ward doctors competing to see who can check her into Cedars Sinai under a 5150 hold first? I’d watch it.
(Pic via Facebook)