When it was announced that Mandy Moore and not-Bryan Adams Ryan Adams were quitting their 6-year marriage to each other, I immediately pictured Mandy wearing a floor-length lilac chiffon gown carefully packing boxes of Ryan’s things as Ryan sits cross-legged on the floor singing “(Say so long) Don’t say goodbye” to their army of cats before he rides away on a cloud of air kisses to his new house. Basically, I assumed it was as amicable as amicable could be.
However, according to UsWeekly, I couldn’t have been more wrong and it’s starting to get dramatic. A source claims that Mandy is “totally shocked” by how Ryan handled their split, and not in the ‘wow, he’s being surprisingly mature about it’ way either. Apparently the two had discussed that Mandy would file for divorce, which made Ryan all panicky and try to work things out with Mandy, before saying fuck it, and skipping down to the court house to file the divorce papers himself.
She’s also pissed that he listed their date of separation as August 4, 2014, a date the source claims is BS and is financially motivated. Apparently Mandy and Ryan didn’t have a prenup, which we’ve all learned from Hollywood Divorces 101 means that this shit is about to get MESSY. No word on whether Ryan is afraid Mandy is going to come after his indie rock money or he’s trying to get his greasy hands on half of her A Walk to Remember cash. But regardless of when Ryan thinks they separated, the source says Mandy sort of mentally checked out a while ago:
“She had been unhappy for awhile. She tried to make things work and eventually she just had to walk away. She’s trying to keep things civil but is pretty upset about the way he’s handling this.”
I know we all sort of read that blind item from a while back about a former singer-turned-actress whose home was wrecked by some younger warbling hussy and our eyes darted quickly to Mandy Moore and Ryan Adams, but what if it turns out that Ryan really was spending all his free time rubbing his hipster bits on a yodeling butterscotch ho? I know Mandy Moore wants to take the high road and whatever, but I’m sure part of her is dying to pick up a Bible and whoop a trick Hilary Faye-style.
Before we get to that sexy Australian slice of lamington cake on the right, we need to talk about why in the HELL does Scarlett Johansson look like the low-budget love child of Miley Cyrus and a Spartan cheerleader?
The 2015 G’Day USA Gala (I literally just pictured an all-Bloomin’ Onion beauty pageant, because I am dumb) was held in Los Angeles on Saturday night. ScarJo was there to present her Avengers co-star and who People tells me is the sexiest man alive Chris Hemsworth with the Excellence in Film award, and during her speech, E! says she told a story about how the sight of a sleeping Thor on an airplane gave Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, and herself a case of the horn-horns:
“Chris decided to take a little cat nap. He collapsed into a giant perfect heap, his lion’s mane gracefully falling around his prominent chiseled features. ‘My, God,’ proclaimed Ruffalo, ‘what a specimen.’ Evans added ‘It’s incredible—the man is perfect even when he’s drooling.’ [I] just stared hoping that some of his stardust would drift my way.”
She then went on to say some stuff about Chris Hemsworth that sounds like it was copy+pasted from a user named TwelveInchHammer69 on a Thor/Loki fanfic site:
“He’s all at once sensitive and ferocious, otherworldly and grounded, is shockingly handsome and is surprisingly approachable. He is every man and like no man you’ve met before. He is versatile despite his physicality, which makes him a grade A movie star.”
She then added (she didn’t) “True story: when shooting wrapped on Avengers: Age of Ultron, I snuck into the makeup trailer and stole Chris’ Thor wig. I keep it in a drawer beside my bed and smell it whenever I need to get in the mood, and sometimes I put it on my French husband’s head while he’s asleep and pretend I’m married to Thor. Too weird?”
Here’s more of ScarJo looking like an ice dancer from Planet Zorg, as well as Chris and his wife Elsa Pataky, who no doubt spent the evening reminding all the horny hos that Thor is taken.
As a Canadian person, I never knew the greasy joy that is going to the Waffle House half-drunk on a Saturday night. We don’t have Waffle Houses up here (and please don’t ask if we have Waffle Igloos, because I really wish we did), so when I finally did get a chance to go to one, it was one of the best moments of my life. Yes, I cried. I cried sweet syrupy tears of happiness. Meanwhile, Eeyore’s cousin Kanye West goes to the Waffle House and sits there like a grumpy toddler who was just told “no more juice”.
Kanye decided to make a surprise appearance at Rihanna’s DirecTV pre-Super Bowl party in Phoenix last night, and of course he brought his life-size Barbie Kim Kardashian with him, because it’s not like one of them needs to stay home and look after the kid or anything. After the show, they decided to go to a Waffle House with John Legend and Chrissy Teigen, who look like they just came from an adult prom, and that’s when Kanye morphed into Grumpy Cat’s asshole.
Kanye is such a difficult bitch. He is totally that friend who gets all mopey in the car because he wanted IHOP and everyone else voted for Waffle House. Then when they get to Waffle House, he throws a mini-tantrum because they don’t have butter pecan syrup and orders “just water, I guess” while everyone else gets ready to mouth-fuck an All-Star Special.
Speaking of ‘the kid’, Kim made sure to remind us/herself that she’s still somebody’s mother by Instagramming a couple pics with North West before she left.
The master of laziness who is an inspiration to all us lazies and a beautiful symbol of laziness.
Happy Smoke A Bowl (Or Five Or Six) Sunday, everyone! Today is the day when most of us take a plastic kiddie pool and fill it with tortilla chips, dozens of jars of Cheez Whiz and pounds of ground beef before diving into it and eating it all while watching the greatest and most relevant sports event in America: THE PUPPEH BOWL! (Oh yeah, and there’s also that other not-as-popular little event where Katy Perry’s tits are going to shoot out fireworks before flopping out of her top, but who cares about that?)
At the end of the day, when your body is weighed down with deliciousness and you can barely hold a cup up to your drinking hole, take a tip from this sensei of laziness. Just lie next to a bowl full of your sweet nectar of choice and scoop the booze into your mouth with your hand. This is how it’s done:
Now that is a genius and a hero to us all!
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