Open Post: Hosted By Queen Aretha Nearly Screaming Her Dress Off While Doing “Rolling In The Deep” Live
Yesterday I linked to Aretha Franklin’s cover of fellow BBW Adele’s “Rolling In The Deep” mashed up with “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” which is off of her new album Aretha Franklin Sings the Great Diva Classics, and I really didn’t pay attention to the auto-tuned-as-hell vocals, because my sense of seeing needed to borrow fuel from my sense of hearing to fully take in the spray paint beauty of her Photoshopped cholita brows on the album cover. Well, my ears paid attention during Queen Aretha’s live performance of the song on The Late Show with David Letterman last night and smoke is coming out of my hearing holes, because my eardrums are fried.
Queen Aretha screamed, hollered and yelled out those musical notes like the IRS was knocking on her front door and ready to put a lien on her house if she didn’t pay up. Queen Aretha really went for it and her screams nearly melted the glue off of the industrial-strength double-sided tape that kept that hideous strapless bedspread from sliding off of her magnificent chichis. Aretha was so damn aggressive that I think her delicately painted-on brows jumped up about half an inch because they couldn’t take the heat rushing out of her mouth. Ain’t no mountain high enough to keep your ears safe from Aretha’s VOICE. SCREAM IT, Aretha!
The best part of the performance was the look on Cissy Houston’s face as she sang back-up. In the span of those 4 and a half minutes, Cissy looked like she took a nap, wrote her grocery list in her head and made a note to never do this shit again.
Cissy Houston’s “Cissy, hit the ‘decline’ button the next time ReRe calls” face + Aretha snatching my ears off with her screaming + my eyes bracing themselves for the sight of that dress falling = the perfect performance.
I know a lot of people get scared of getting older, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 25 years (needs verification) on this earth, it’s that the older you get, the less fucks you give, and the easier it is to call a bitch out on their shit. Case in point, life legend Annie Lennox. Annie Lennox is 59 years old, which means she’s seen it, done it, heard it, fucked it, Eurythmics‘ed it, and has no time for any of it. Especially camel-humping surftbort-riding human weaves who think they’re an expert on feminism because they got their assistant to write up an article about gender equality once.
Annie (who should really get in contact with Linda Perry) recently admitted to PrideSource (via Daily Mail) that she’s not buying what Beyoncé is selling, in particular, Bey’s new love affair with Feminism:
“I would call that “feminist lite”. L-I-T-E. I’m sorry. It’s tokenistic to me. I mean, I think she’s a phenomenal artist. I just love her performances – but I’d like to sit down [with her]. I think I’d like to sit down with quite a few artists and talk to them. I’d like to listen to them; I’d like to hear what they truly think. I see a lot of it as them taking the word hostage and using it to promote themselves, but I don’t think they necessarily represent wholeheartedly the depths of feminism – no, I don’t. I think for many it’s very convenient and it looks great and it looks radical, but I have some issues with it. I think it’s a cheap shot. I think what they do with it is cheap.”
Oooooooh Annie…YOU. IN. DANGER. GIRL. Nobody calls Queen Bey CHEAP! Even Basement Baby, who is currently wiping her ass with 1/2-ply toilet paper-style pressed fiber sheets and eating No Name Cheerios, doesn’t call Beyoncé cheap. I hope you still got that leather mask you wore on the cover of Touch, because you might want to go incognito for a while.
But I do think it’s cute that Annie wants to sit down and hear what Beyoncé thinks. Bless your heart, Annie Lennox, but Beyoncé’s head isn’t filled with thoughts; it’s a complex system of circuits and wires and RAM and weave glue.
I know that celebrity deaths supposedly comes in threes, but do celeb whore DUIs really need to come in threes too? Two days after Amanda Bynes got put into handcuffs for driving while allegedly high on Adderall, the Geico caveman with a buzzcut known as Michael Phelps was arrested on suspicion of DUI in Baltimore, Maryland this morning. Bitch swims like a fish and drinks like a fish. Moron should’ve swam home! Something tells me that Debbie Phelps is not having a Chico’s kind of day today. Michael Phelps is to blame and he should be jailed for life for that.
The Baltimore Sun says that Michael Phelps’ white Range Rover was pulled over at around 1:40am on Interstate-395 after he was clocked by an officer’s radar going 84mph in a 45mph zone. The officer checked Michael Phelps’ speed while his dumb ass was going through a tunnel. During the stop, the officer noticed that the Cro-Magnon dolphin seemed drunk. In Michael Phelps’ defense, he always has that dead-eyed derp look about him. But Michael was plastered and according to the cop, he failed a series of standard field sobriety tests. He was arrested and charged with DUI, excessive speed, and crossing double lane lines. He was later released.
This is Michael Phelps’ second DUI. In 2004, he got caught drunk driving and later pleaded guilty in exchange for 18 months probation.
Well, the good news is that Animal Planet’s eventual biopic of the Olympian dolphin starring Adam Driver just got juicier.
TMZ asked Michael Phelps’ fellow Team USA teammate Ryan Lochte about this mess and he dribbled this out:
“I’m not concerned … he just makes dumb decisions. He has so much money to get a driver. I even have a driver. Just stinks for the sport of swimming. But he will become smarter from this. Luckily he did not hurt himself or someone else.”
When Ryan Lochte, whose head is filled with nothing but chlorine water and Cool Water fumes, comes off as the voice of reason and calls you out for making dumb decisions, then it’s time to swim off to a corner of the pool to get it together.
OK! Magazine (via Showbiz Spy) says that 22-year-old German Victoria’s Secret model Teri Garr (I know that’s not her name, but every time I try to type her real name my auto-correct gene automatically corrects it to Teri Garr. I cannot deny my auto-correct gene!) is no longer sucking the face piojos and cheesy dandruff puffs out of Leonardo DiCaprio’s scraggly beard as they spoon on a yacht in the South of France while forever third wheel Lukas Haas watches from a dark corner. They say that after a year and a half of bumping nipples, Teri Garr and 39-year-old Leo are no longer together. They were last papped together in NYC on September 3rd. OK! Magazine has so many details about the split that you’ll have to read the following with a quadruple-magnified magnifying glass, because there’s details hidden in the details.
The Wolf of Wall Street actor, 39, ended his relationship with model Toni Garrn, 22, after a year and a half of dating. The couple was last spotted in New York City on Sept. 3.
The split wasn’t too much of a surprise, as Garrn attended New York Fashion Week solo, while DiCaprio partied on the West Coast. But what lead to the split?
So many details! A source tells Gossip Cop that OK! is lie-telling, because ToNardo is still a thing.
I don’t know, it’s pretty believable. The world is now teetering on its axis, because George Clooney is the picture perfect portrait of a happily married monogamous man and Adam Levine is no longer ho’ing it up out in the open. Leonardo DiCatchAHo really cares about the planet and he can’t let it completely spin off its axis by staying in a relationship too long. So I wouldn’t be surprised if Leo put Teri Garr on the curb, because now that Clooney and Adam Levine are temporarily off the market he’s gotta triple up his fuck load and do all the models. Besides, Teri Garr turned 22 in July and 22 is “older than Methuselah’s balls” in DiCatchAHo years. That’s what the DiCatchAHo calculator on Victoria’s Secret’s website says anyway.
Here’s Toni Garrn (yes, I broke at least 3 finger bones while typing that name instead of Teri Garr) at some Vogue event in Milan on September 22nd.
We’re only two weeks into the all-new The View, and already two of the hens are ready to peck each other’s eyes out. This may be a new record for ABC! Treat yourselves to lunch at In-N-Out today, you’ve earned it. According to the Daily Mail, come-to-life pair of casual pants Rosie O’Donnell and the no-fucks-left-to-give human CROC Whoopi Goldberg got into a nasty clucking match during a commercial break on The View that ended with Whoopi busting out several $2 swears.
Rosie was discussing how she feels about spanking your children (oh here go hell come) during Hot Topics and they started to run out of time, so producers told Whoopi to cut her off and go to commercial. Rosie would have known the segment was running long if she too had been wearing an earpiece, but a source says Rosie O’Donnell don’t do earpieces! Whoopi threw some morning talk show shade by suggesting she start wearing an earpiece if she wants to know what’s going on. Once they went to commercial, Rosie grabbed the mic they use for talking to the audience and started ripping into Whoopi for cutting her off and being a shade-slinging casual comfort cunt and saying she “hurt her feelings”.
Walmart has told Tracy Morgan the same thing I tell myself whenever the broken pieces of my charred soul burn a little more after I walk into a Walmart: “You brought this upon yourself, bitch!”
Tracy Morgan is suing the ‘Murican Emporium of Glamour for the crash that killed his friend Jimmy Mack and left him with serious injuries. One of Walmart’s tractor-trailers rammed into a limo bus carrying Tracy Morgan, Jimmy Mack and others on the New Jersey Turnpike last June. Tracy’s lawyer says that it’s all Walmart’s fault because Kevin Roper, the driver of the tractor-trailer, was awake for more than 24 hours before the crash and he was driving 20mph over the speed limit. But well, if you thought that Walmart’s yellow smiley face of pure evil would just spit out an “I’m sorry” before dropping a mountain of money into Tracy’s lap, then you don’t know Walmart or billion dollar American corporations.
More details have been released concerning Amanda Bynes’ Sunday morning arrest for driving like a damn drugged-up mess. TMZ had originally stated that the ratty wig-wearing driveway fire-setting former terror of Southern California was high on the mara-juana when she got pulled over, but now they’re changing their story and saying that she was actually rolling on totally legal prescription drugs. TMZ says the influence Amanda was driving under was Adderall, something that had been prescribed by her doctor. Amanda’s DUI does violate her probation, but the fact that the drugs came from her doctor and not some shady dude named Sleazy-P in the paper towels aisle of a Walmart (not that I’d know anything about that) will help her case.
But it sounds like Adderall is the only pharmaceutical Amanda has been gobbling down; a source close to Amanda (a giant clump of pastel polyester hair) claims she’s off her anti-psychotic meds. Ruh roh. She’s also been smoking a lot of weed too (just not early Sunday morning when she was arrested). And according to Radar, all the weed and pills and guzzling grown-up go-go juice (yes she’s back to drinking) has caused Amanda to flunk out of fashion school. NOOOOO!!!! I was so looking forward to the UGLY by Amanda Bynes 2015 fall collection!
But where are Amanda’s parents? After their conservatorship ended earlier this month and she left the nest, surely they kept tabs on their crazy baby bird, right? Well, not exactly. TMZ says they haven’t really heard from her since she left for Orange County. In fact, they learned she had been arrested for a DUI this weekend from the media. They also have no idea where she is now. Hey Amanda, call your fucking parents!
So let’s see here – using the Theory of Probability, combined with Brit Brit’s Law of Unstable Crazy, we can predict what Amanda will do next. For instance, we already have [Y + (weed + adderall) x alcohol] – (anti-psychotics + parents) = DUI. All you have to do is solve the value of Y. And knowing what we know, clearly Y = more insane busted Bride of Chucky living nightmare Twitter videos. Amanda! CALL YOUR PARENTS!
Because the universe heard you when you thought to yourself yesterday, “I really haven’t seen or heard enough about George Clooney’s motherfucking wedding,” People, Hello!, The New York Post and Vogue all threw up pictures of Amal Alamuddin’s wedding dress today. I fully expect to see close-up pictures of the food in Food & Wine Magazine, a 35-page profile in Boating Magazine about the boat they rode in, pictures of the custom-made wedding night anal beads they used in Hustler Magazine and an interview in Dog Fancy with the stray dogs in Venice who watched the wedding through a window. It’s only just begun! And you’re probably looking at that cover of People and thinking to yourself, “Tell me more about the Property Brothers at home…”
People and Hello! not only published dozens of pictures, but also a million details. Clooney wore Giorgio Armani, his cufflinks from his bride had his name in Arabic etched into them, Amal wore a custom Oscar de la Renta gown, there were 100 guests from 30 countries, the ugly cake was almost as big as Clooney’s ego, their first dance was to Cole Porter’s “Why Shouldn’t I?“, family friend Nora Sagal sang Irving Berlin’s “Always” and they got married in Italy because they met there. Amal’s mother said a few words to People about the wedding and I’m sure those words were not written by George Clooney’s PR team:
“George and Amal radiated love all night. The wedding was so unbelievably special, it was legendary. These three days – the friends, the families, the atmosphere, everything – will stay with me all the rest of my life.”
Inside Edition says that the wedding cost $13 million. Clooney and Amal got paid for the pictures, of course, and they’re donating the cash to charity.
Also, guests were all given an iPod with Clooney and Amal’s favorite songs on them. More like iBarf. Bono was a guest, so I’m guessing that the bottom of the Grand Canal in Venice is now an iPod graveyard. Because as soon as guests started up their iPods and noticed that U2′s new album was on it, they threw that shit in the water.
After the cut is a picture of AlaLooney on Hello! and Amal at her dress fitting with Oscar de la Renta. Sadly, I didn’t include any pictures of the Property Brothers at home.
Look what happens when you go through your purse in the dark looking for a Monsitat suppository and grab a Mentos instead. – Texndoc
It was just a laser pointer until she met Jon Hamm. – OurMissC