While Brad Pitt was shooting Fury in England and polluting the skies above Britain with musky clouds of foreskin butter and butt jelly fumes , St. Angie Jolie was all the way in Australia directing the Louis Zamperini biopic Unbroken. You’d think that if Brad Pitt wanted to communicate with St. Angie’s ass, he’d just go to the nearest church, put his hands together and ask her assistant God to patch her through. But St. Angie tells Australia’s TV Week Magazine (via E!) that her and Brad’s love is an old-fashioned, timeless kind of love and they didn’t talk through sext messages or Skype or emails. They’d write love letters to each other and they’d role play while doing so. Angie would dip her bony finger in an inkwell and scribble out a letter to Brad as though she was an old-timey actress in the Pacific theater and he was an old-timey actor in the European theater and they weren’t modern-day famous millionaires who could make a private jet appear just by saying “I want a private jet to appear.” St. Angie is telling us this, because she wants to remind us all that they’re Romeo and Juliet if Romeo was a greasy billy goat whose potent weed farts could get a hippo stoned and if Juliet was a vampire saint who stored the youth of babies in her forehead vein. Angie spit this out by her and Brad’s ~romantic~ letter writing:
“He was supportive from a distance and it was quite romantic in a way. We decided to be of that time when we could imagine he was in the European theatre and I was in the Pacific theater and we wrote hand-written letters to each other that were very connecting for us, thinking of the people that were separated for months if not years at a time back then.”
What’s surprising is that Brad’s letters from England got to St. Angie in Australia. Brad’s 100% THC sweat probably dripped all over that letter and it’s weird that a postal worker didn’t think that something in the envelope was the good shit when their dog’s nose exploded while sniffing it. Brad can easily send a weed-soaked letter in the mail and yet I get in trouble when I try to FedEx a bag of the good shit from California to whatever hotel I’m staying at in a different state (No, I have never done that, yet).
If for whatever reason, Brangie loses their zillions, they can always get it back and then some by selling those letters. Every Brangeloonie would do and sell anything to get their hands and other parts around those letters. A rolled-up letter handwritten by St. Angie would replace that W Magazine cover as the only paper dildo they need in their life.
Dancing With The Has-Beens resident toe-tapping man slut Maksim Chmerkovskiy threw some hunky shade at his former BFFTXDUP (best friend forever till Xenu do us part) Kirstie Alley on the Watch What Happens Live after show on Tuesday. During a call-in segment, Maks was asked if Kirstie ever tried to slip him some barley water and lure him to the dark side in an attempt to convert him to Scientology. Even though his eyes said “Yes, and there are still white windowless vans following my ass around and people digging through my garbage and Tommy Girl won’t stop calling me”, his mouth said no, which led Andy Cohen to ask if he gets along well with Scientology’s Spanxed High Priestess. Maksim answered:
“Until recently. She stopped getting along with me. I think the world of her. I’m not judging people by their religion. I’m Jewish, and you know, I don’t really believe in science fiction, but whatever. We had a great relationship. I thought we had a great relationship, and if it was something else or not, I don’t know. But I got a message that now that I’m associating with other people that she can’t be associated with, I am no longer to be spoken with, and sorry, but that is what it is.”
Maks didn’t have to name names, since anyone with a busted E-meter for a brain knew that the usurper in question is Leah Remini. Leah escaped the clutches of Scientology last year, and her picture has been on Kirstie Alley’s dartboard ever since. But what’s the connection to Maks and Leah? Maks has just entered a
PR contract totally sincere relationship with Jennifer Lopez, who just happens to be BFFs with Leah Remini.
So Kirstie, who’s clearly a 15-year-old high school bitch trapped in the body of a 63-year-old Spanxed marshmallow, found out that one of her friends is dating the best friend of a girl she’s in a fight with. So how does Kirstie tell Maks that she’s done with his ass? The same way most 15-year-old girls deliver messages: Maks says he found out via message through a friend. I can just picture it now: John Travolta marches up to Maks in the cafeteria, slaps him across the face, hisses “That’s a message from my gurl Kirstie, you backstabbing skank!”, then secretly slips Maks his number while giggling “OMG! Call me sometime?”
Here’s Maks’s girlfriend JLo and her best friend Leah out shopping in Hollywood yesterday. I bet Kirstie and John have already printed out these pictures and glued them into the Burn Book.
Pics: Fame Flynet
The heads of theater queens are exploding everywhere, because the first trailer for the Disney-fied Into the Woods movie is FINALLY here, but it’s missing one sort of major thing: SINGING. There’s Meryl Streep looking like a blue-haired Sookeh in 20 years, Chris Pine with stunningly luscious blown-out Walter Mercado hair and Johnny Depp finally looking hot again and I’m only saying that because he’s covered in CGI and his nails have never looked cleaner. But there’s no hos yodeling out musical notes!
There’s just Anna Kendrick burping out “I wish” over and over again. You know what I wish? I wish you’d start singing, bitch, because this is supposed to be a musical.
And here’s a few stills in case you missed them yesterday. My abuelita wishes she had that picture of Chris Pine in the 80s to give to her stylist at the JCPenney salon, because his hair is very “grandma of the 1980s bride” and that is the hair of her dreams.
Um, those two dogs on the left making a “This Is Not What I Signed Up For” face should really tell their Chow Chow friend, Genghis Khan II, that opening his mouth when Terry Richardson is around is never a good idea. Or maybe GK2 is silently screaming and shutting his eyes because he can’t with this mess. Probably the latter.
The woman who Blake NotSoLively will one day skin alive and wear posed for a spread in Net-A-Porter’s print magazine Porter and before the shoot, she was given a list of photographers to choose from. Fashionista (via Jezebel) says that Terry Richardson was on that list. If you were doing a shoot for Porter Magazine and they gave you a list with Uncle Terry’s name on it, you’d probably say, “Why are you giving me the National Sex Offender Registry? Give me that list of photographers!” Martha didn’t do that and out of all the photographers on the list, she went with the human chloroform rag. Either the name Terry Richardson hasn’t penetrated through the mint green bubble that Martha lives in or she figured that since she’s all out of Creme De La Mer, she might as well try a new facial cream. Porter says that after the come-to-life stock photo of a pedophile shot her, she told everyone he was “cute.” This is the reason why the Strawberry Shortcake bar I ate last night is crawling up my throat:
“It is the first time these two controversy-hounds have met but it is, like so much in Stewart’s life, no accident. After debating over a long list of photographers, America’s house-mother superior insisted that Richardson shoot her. ‘Oh, he is cute,’ she will say later, when he comes to say goodbye.”
The only thing more WTF-ish than Uncle Terry shooting Martha Stewart is Martha Stewart calling Uncle Terry “cute.” Calling Terry Richardson “cute” is like calling a hairy ass wart that a rat chewed off “adorable.” But anybody who has seen the disgusting plates of barf-covered diarrhea that Martha has tweeted knows that she’s blind when it comes to nasty crap.
And I hope that Martha thinking that Uncle Terry is cute isn’t going to lead to a more “intimate” photo shoot, because my eyeballs were not built to take in the sight of Uncle Terry’s leaky dick on Martha Stewart’s forehead.
I know I specified it was Charlie Theron’s smart friends who are warning her about making it legal with human-sized rectal prolapse Sean Penn, but I’m sure that even the dumbest, slowest mouth breathers in her life would be like “Damn bitch, do you need a lobotomy??”
Last week, Charlize was spotted wearing a fancy ring on THAT FINGER while strolling through the airport, and while she hasn’t commented on it (I’m sure the official statement will just be the words “Oh my god“ and a bitchy eye-roll), most are speculating that Sean Penn got down on one brittle beef jerky knee and popped the question. But according to the National Enquirer, Charlize’s friends are nervously tugging at their collars, because they’re afraid her life will turn into a remake of Sleeping with the Enemy:
Friends are concerned that the fairy-tale romance between the “Monster” actress and the “Milk” star could lead to a nightmare marriage. In 1987, Sean was sentenced to 60 days in jail for punching a movie extra in the face numerous times on the set of “Colors.” That same year, he was also charged with domestic assault after he whacked then-wife Madonna across the head with a baseball bat. In 2012, Sean uttered an amazing understatement: “I don’t control my temper well.”
“They’re urging her to think twice before finally heading down the aisle with Sean.”
Charlize’s friends sound like they mean well, but when your friend is Stage-10 dickmatized to a raging deep-fried asshole like Sean Penn, you need to do a lot more than “urge” them to think twice about getting married. You need to book them an appointment with an old timey hypnotist who can wipe their memory clean of his angry squished nutsac of a face. And if that doesn’t work, you force her to watch Shanghai Surprise, Clockwork Orange-style, over and over and over until the mere sight of his face makes her shudder with second-hand embarrassment.
And I hope Sean Penn’s friends are also warning him to “think twice” about marrying a TGIF-hating bitch like Charlize. He does know she committed an act of extreme disrespect by hissing at 1/2 of Sister Sister, right???
Professional Alexis Mateo impersonator Alicia Keys posted this picture of her and her husband Swizz Beatz looking like Restoration Hardware’s version of The Heart Family to Instagram last night (via UsWeekly) to announce that he’d pumped her full of jizz beatz and she caught a case of fetus fever. Alicia captioned the photo:
What in the hell is that joorey he’s wearing around his neck? He looks like a damn Dracula.
NO! She said this:
Happy Anniversary to the love of my life @therealswizzz!! And to make it even sweeter we’ve been blessed with another angel on the way!! You make me happier than I have ever known! Here’s to many many more years of the best parts of life!
Alicia Keys and Swizz Cheese have been married for four years now and already have a 3-year-old son named Egypt Daoud Dean, so I fully expect them to bring the fuckery when it comes to naming baby number two. They picked an African country for the first name and a weird spelling of a common name for the middle, so currently my money is on Libya Maolissa if it’s a girl and Djibouti Kevoin for a boy. Or maybe they’ll stick with the Egypt theme, in which case I hope they name the baby Sphinx Ankh [symbol of a guy doing this] Mummy Dean (“Oh please oh please oh please let me help you design the nursery???” – Katy Perry).
Announcer: Where will you be when diarrhea strikes? – Stan_Hooper
Uber is now available in Arkansas. – InUrFace
This philanthropist of hotness who has been gifting the eyes of Facebook with her piping hot, extra sweet, nipple hardening dance moves!
I don’t know if this video was shot in the 90s (But I’m pretty sure portrait mode didn’t exist in the 90s. It was a better time.) or if it was shot in current day Bushwick, but it doesn’t really matter. Because her moves, style and charisma are timeless. While looking like the 90s spit its backwash all over her, this goddess of dance Pumps Up The Jam all the way up and is the reason why Technotronic was created. She throws down moves you’ve never seen like the “mental patient on meth trying to shake out of a straitjacket” move (at the 0:02 mark), the “malfunctioning zombie robot” move (at the 0:10 mark), the “quadriplegic T-rex trying to swim as bees attack it” move (at the 0:26 mark), the “fanning my queef fumes away” move (at the 0:33 mark) and the “fanning my butt fumes away” move (at the 0:56). She looks like a gorilla who was taught the history of 90s dance moves and was asked to perform them right after her veins were injected with liquid bath salts. THIS IS DANCE!
After watching this mistress of moves, FOX has announced that they’re changing the name of “So You Think You Can Dance?” to “So You Think You Can Dance Better Than That Pump Up The Jam Girl? Well, You Can’t, But Maybe You Can Be Second Best?”
Dean Cain (48)
Rico Rodriguez (16)
Alexis Knapp (25)
Charlie Carver (26)
Eric Lively (33)
Matt Shadows (33)
B.J. Novak (35)
Zac Brown (36)
Annie Parisse (39)
Ben Chaplin (45)
J.K. Rowling (49)
Wesley Snipes (52)
Mark Cuban (56)
Michael Biehn (58)
Geraldine Chaplin (70)
Don Murray (85)
“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!