During an interview with Australia’s Today Show (via Daily Mail), Dame St. Angie spoke about her and Brad Pitt’s upcoming film/gift to the Brangeloonies, By The Sea, and admitted that some of the other angels in Heaven questioned whether or not it was a good idea for her to direct and star with her new husband in a movie about a couple who’s marriage is in a bad way:
“We haven’t acted together for ten years, so we decided we would do it again and we did a very small drama about family, about marriage in fact. We did a drama about a bad marriage. A lot of friends of ours thought is was a really…they didn’t say a bad idea, but they asked us a few times if we were sure we wanted to do that.”
I guess the angels were afraid of an art-imitating-life situation where playing an on-screen couple whose marriage is in the toilet might kill their own marriage and causing the universe to explode. Those angels – so thoughtful. But they should know that Dame St. Angie would never do anything that would put her marriage to soap’s nemesis Brad Pitt in trouble; even if the movie did kill their marriage, she has the power to perform miracles and bring it back to life, remember? Silly angels, it’s St. Angie we’re talking about.
And here’s Heaven’s Ambassador to Earth, Our Lady of Perpetual Cheekbones Dame St. Angie of the People at the photo call for the other movie she directed, Unbroken, in Berlin. Someone should tell DSt.A that just because she’s in Berlin doesn’t mean she has to dress like Dieter from Sprockets.
I was going to post a bunch of videos that proves that Idiocracy was a documentary of the future (aka Black Friday meltdown videos), but after those Shia and Scott Stapp posts, I figured everyone could use a level 10 palate cleanser. So here’s an adorable pussy nom nom nom-ing on her first Thanksgiving meal while dressed up as a pilgrim. Yeah, Thanksgiving has come and gone, but it’s never too late for me to say that I’m thankful for the palate cleansing power of a kitty pilgrim and her chihuahua friend.
via Laughing Squid
Scott Stapp Was Recently Placed On A 72-Hour Psych Hold And Apparently Sees Visions Of People On Fire
It was reported yesterday that former lead growler of Creed Scott Stapp was dead broke, fucked up on crystal meth, and living in a
van down by the river Holiday Inn somewhere in Atlanta, but it turns out things are a lot worse for Scotty than we thought.
TMZ says Scott’s life started turning into a soggy pile of turkey stuffing on November 10th, when he left a message for the dean of his children’s school informing them that be believed ISIS had targeted the school for an attack. Then on November 13th, Florida police found Scott Stapp wandering around on the side of the road incoherently rambling about someone trying to poison him and placed him on a 72-hour psych hold. Then to make matters messier, Scott’s estranged wife Jaclyn filed legal documents during his time in lock-up claiming that Scott has a bunch of guns and has threatened to kill himself and his AA sponsor.
Jaclyn also says that Scott hears voices, is super paranoid, and has seen visions of people on fire, all of which is the result of binging on weed, steroids, coke, crystal meth, PCP, Special K (the drug, not the cereal), and various prescription drugs. “Oh, so I guess I’m not good enough for your fancy fucked-up Florida drug party?” hissed bath salts.
Damn, if this isn’t the definition of a Jesus Take The Meth Pipe situation, then I don’t know what is. This is almost TOO crazy. I bet even Jesus is probably making excuses for why he can’t fly down to Atlanta (where Scott is currently hiding from ISIS and the fire people) and clean up this mess. “I…uh…have this thing at 3:00pm that I can’t move. Maybe St. Peter can take it?“
Well, here’s ten tons of fucked up that just took my Thanksgiving hangover headache to new levels.
Earlier this year, Shia LaBeouf pulled some Marina Abramovic shit in L.A. when he did a performance art pice called #IAMSORRY after he got caught plagiarizing a Daniel Clowes graphic novel for a short movie called Howard Cantour.com. During #IAMSORRY, Shia sat in a room by himself with a paper bag over his head and props from his career (a whip, a Transformer, a bowl full of hate tweets, etc…) sat on a table in front of him. One by one, people came into the room and either sat across from him without saying a word or talked to him or used the props in whatever way they wanted. I heard stories about how some people cursed his ass out and/or threw shit at him, but the story he told Dazed is every layer of THE FUCK?
For two weeks, Shia and Dazed editor Aimee Cliff talked back and forth online about #IAMSORRY. Aimee asked Shia if there was one experience that was either moving or soul-killing and Shia made my brain melt by saying that one crazy bitch whipped and raped him as her boyfriend and his girlfriend waited in the line outside.
One woman who came with her boyfriend, who was outside the door when this happened, whipped my legs for ten minutes and then stripped my clothing and proceeded to rape me… There were hundreds of people in line when she walked out with disheveled hair and smudged lipstick. It was no good, not just for me but her man as well. On top of that my girl was in line to see me, because it was Valentine’s Day and I was living in the gallery for the duration of the event – we were separated for five days, no communication. So it really hurt her as well, as I guess the news of it travelled through the line. When she came in she asked for an explanation, and I couldn’t speak, so we both sat with this unexplained trauma silently. It was painful.
My brain just puked up a dozen question marks. So many questions. I know Shia basically had zero rules for his performance art piece and people were allowed to do whatever they wanted to him, but you’d think that he wouldn’t have to put up a sign that read: You Can Do Anything You Want Except For Murdering, Shooting, Stabbing, Raping And Choking Shia.
Shia and Aimee Cliff also did a sit down “interview” through webcams strapped to their heads and this is how it went. (Note: If you watch 4 minutes of it, you’ve watched all of it since they don’t say a word.)
That’s pretty much what I did for an hour after reading Shia’s fucked up story.
If you’re anywhere over the age of 19, this story about melodramatic teenagers hissing at each other on the internet will no doubt make you want to ball up your fists and shout GET OFF MY LAWN, so just giving you a heads up that you might want to prepare a soothing hot water with lemon to calm yourself when it happens.
So some time last year, Abigail Breslin, who you may know as the little girl from Little Miss Sunshine or the little girl from that insane episode of Law & Order: SVU where Lea Thompson tries to kidnap her biological daughter, dated one of the Hot Topic teens from the band 5 Seconds of Summer, Michael Clifford. And then they broke up, because – I don’t know, maybe one of them caught the other one stealing their eyeliner. Cut to four days ago, when Abigail decided to release a Taylor Swift-sounding breakup song called “You Suck“, in which she calls out her ex-boyfriend for not washing his hair, having a “dumb tattoo”, and maybe cheating on her. Whoah – a “dumb tattoo”? SHOTS FIRED.
Abigail also sings that he’ll probably say that she wrote the song because she’s “so obsessed” with him, but Michael just sort of laughed the whole thing off (literally). Unfortunately, Abigail forgot that the person who “sucks” also happens to have an obsessed teen fan army, and they all started dragging Abigail on Twitter:
If you’re a mom of a nerd, then you now know how you’re going to spend a part of your day tomorrow. You’re going to spend it scrubbing dried butt cream out of a pair of Star Wars adult sized Underoos. Because the teaser trailer for Star Wars VII: The Nerd Boner Awakens stuck its tip into nerd holes today. This shit doesn’t come out for another year and this is only a teaser, so it doesn’t show much. I see John Boyega giving hos the moists in his Stormtrooper outfit, some soccer ball with a head and possibly Adam from Girls working a really impractical light saber that I’m sure he’ll burn his hands on at least twice. This trailer doesn’t do things to me, but I’m still happy for all you nerds, because I’m sure you’d be happy for me if a trailer for the live-action feature film of Beverly Hills Teens came out and made me tear off my head before running around in a circle from the excitement of it all.
Boglins, the outrageous creature that comes alive in your hands (not to be confused with The Hammaconda)!
You’re probably reading this from a bed in the ER where you’re being treated for torn off fingers and shank wounds in your hands. You either found out the hard way that fingering Parasite Hilton is a dangerous, suicidal act or you got stabbed by a fellow crazy bitch while fighting over a 30% TV at Best Buy this morning. It’s that time of year again when us Americans (and now Brits) burn off the forty pounds of deliciousness we swallowed the day before by stampeding, beating and murdering each other for stupid shit at Walmart.
While thinking about what kind of shit parents murdered each other for during the dangerous sport of all time (aka Christmas shopping) in the 80s, I thought about the Boglins for some reason. I remember the Boglins being the (sh)IT toy when I was 8 or 9. The 80s were truly a simpler time. Today, disgusting, slobbery smegma monsters like the Kartrashians terrorize all of our senses and in the 80s it was the Boglins.
The Boglins were rubber monster puppets with shifty glow-in-the-dark eyes and movable arms. There were several different kinds of Boglins and I most remember the one above that looks like Shrek’s dingle or something found under Brad Pitt’s foreskin. The Boglins never scared me and I may or may not have had my first kiss with one.
The Boglins were re-released in the early 2000s, but failed to become the hit they were in the 80s. Children of the 2000s just didn’t understand the gross brilliance of a toy that you can feed peas too:
I bet that’s what Pimp Mama Kris looks like when she’s in her original form. Cleanse your screen with holy water immediately!
Alan Ritchson (30)
Scarlett Pomers (26)
Karen Gillan (27)
Trey Songz (30)
Mary Elizabeth Winstead (30)
Sharon Needles (33)
Ryan Kwanten (38)
Jon Stewart (52)
Jane Sibbett (52)
Alfonso Cuaron (53)
John Galliano (54)
Judd Nelson (55)
S. Epatha Merkerson (62)
Ed Harris (64)
Paul Schaffer (65)
Randy Newman (71)
Berry Gordy Jr. (85)
In the 90s, Scott Stapp was living the life as the head ho of Creed and he was making so much money that he could have his pick of the highest paid lot lizard in a Piggy Wiggly parking lot and could buy any brand of beer he wanted from the Circle K. Dude was living it. But how the mighty have fallen, because now Scott Stapp claims he’s as broke as my ear drums when I listen to a Creed song and is living in a Holiday Inn. I know, it can’t be THAT bad. Dude is living in a Holiday Inn! That shit is nicer than a lot of people’s apartment. If he really wants people to fart up loads of sympathy, he should say he’s living in a janitor closet at the Super 8.
Tom Turkey from 1983′s A Thanksgiving Tale!
Christmas specials are a dime a dozen and there’s TOO many of them, but Thanksgiving specials are as rare as a reasonable thought out of Lindsay Lohan’s mouth or as rare as a Grindr trick who tells the truth about his real dick size (yes, always bring a tape measure with you to every hook-up to make sure). A Thanksgiving Tale is one of the only Thanksgiving specials I remember watching as a kid.
Paul Fusco, who brought us ALF, created and produced A Thanksgiving Tale which first aired on Showtime in 1983. As a kid, a cat must’ve held Paul’s entire family hostage and tortured their asses, because he obviously hates cats. ALF was a major pussy eater and in A Thanksgiving Tale, New Jersey cats befriend a dumbass turkey just so they can cook and eat him for Thanksgiving.
Tom Turkey is a bird-brained Thespian turkey who is trying to get to NYC to live out his dream of being a stage star. But he’s obviously got shit for brains, because when the bus driver screams “Newark,” Tom thinks he screamed, “New York.” Tom gets off at Newark and meets a group of starving, raggedy, janky cats who give him shelter from the cold. Tom thinks they’re kind of heart, but of course, those starving pussies are tricking that turkey and are fattening him up to eat him on Thanksgiving. Tom is just off the bus in more ways than one, because everybody knows you shouldn’t trust cats in denim caps and vests.
The dogs living in the alley outside of the cat’s lair find out what those shady pussies are pulling and vow to save Tom Turkey, because dogs are good and cats are bad. To make a short story even shorter, the cats and dogs scrap in the alley before Tom Turkey breaks it up. Tom saves the day and brings them all together by suggesting that the dogs move in with the cats, because the cats have shelter and the dogs have food. They put on a play, because after all Tom is a wannabe actor, so he’s an attention whore and has to make it all about him.
But in real life, we know how that scene would play out. The dogs and cats would tear Tom’s turkey ass apart while trying to eat him at the same time. No, no, no, it’s a beautiful story with a beautiful happy ending. It’s a Thanksgiving miracle! It’s also a Thanksgiving miracle that I found this masterpiece on YouTube.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! See you in the ER after our stomachs explode from filling it with booze, booze, booze, booze and maybe some turkey and stuff.