While making #FREEARIZONALLAMAS t-shirts with puffy paint just right now, I took a break to scroll through pictures from the Gucci show in Milan and a piece of my childhood did the slow wall slide of NOOOOOO when my eyes landed on this picture of what looks like the corpse of Fizzgig from The Dark Crystal. NOT FIZZGIG!
According to Gucci, Fall 2015 is all about Wookie footwear and pubes for your shoes. Some shoes look like Khloe Kardashian’s hooves in their natural state and other shoes look like they were covered in gerbil pubes. How dreadful. If the designers at Gucci thought to themselves, “Hmmm, let’s make some crap that’s even uglier than UGGs,” they should give themselves twenty pats on the taint for accomplishing their mission. It looks like that model is foot fucking a gigantic guinea pig in the butt. Call the ASPCA now.
Why would you want to wear something that looks like it used to live on Donald Trump’s head? It’s only the perfect shoe for you if you’ve always wanted to get your ankles gnawed on by coyotes, because as soon as you step out in the those things all the beasts of the wild are going to come out and attack your feet. With that being said, I really can’t wait to see hos on a budget try to recreate these shoes using old Vans, Super Glue and discarded weaves found on the floor of the club.
I’ve also thrown in a few NSFW pictures of the clothes if you really want to see some shit that’s a cross between young Tootsie and costumes from The Royal Tenenbaums porn parody.
It’s been a hot minute since we last checked in with the organic hippie commune farmer’s market version of Jennifer Lawrence, but thanks to the release of another Divergent movie (this time it’s Divergent: Insurgent, and no, I can’t with that name either), Shailene Woodley is back with more Shailene Woodley-esque thoughts on being naked. The last time Shailene talked about nudity, in involved stripping down and getting some sun on your pussy parts. This time it has nothing to do with Vitamin D (not a euphemism) and more to do with being comfortable with herself. Shailene told Glamour UK (via E!) that you’ll never see her wear a bra in a sex scene, because getting naked is no big deal:
“I’m totally comfortable with nudity. I’m not sure it empowers me as an actress or anything, but if I’m going to do a movie with sex scenes, then I’m going to be naked, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t have sex with bras and panties on.”
I wish she had explained that a little more, because now I want to know if she means naked-naked or implied naked, like with a merkin or one of those little taped-on fabric dealies. Also I’ve just assumed that at any given time, Shailene is wearing some kind of hand-picked coochie leaf cover so that she’s always at one with nature, so does she take that off or leave that on?
Shailene also went a little It’s Montenegro style while explaining her stance on nudity:
“Part of the reason I love Europe is that sexuality is no big deal there. You go to a topless beach and the dudes aren’t checking out your tits, because they’re just boobs. [In America] sex is something that’s not talked about – yet it’s in our faces more than anything else. In school, rather than teach you about sex, they tell you about abstinence, which doesn’t work.”
My only knowledge of European beaches comes from the movie Stranger by the Lake, and that movie is filled with so many dicks and balls and butts and everything, so I have no idea if she’s right or not. Clearly I have to do more research on the subject, and by research, I of course mean searching “hot dudes on beach good ass ok face” till my laptop battery dies.
The last time life legend Drew Barrymore sat down to write a book, it was 1990 and she wrote Little Girl Lost, and the world instantly became a better place for it, because Little Girl Lost is everything. It’s like if V.C. Andrews wrote Shirley Temple fan fiction. I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure there’s a copy of Little Girl Lost in the Smithsonian (at least there should be). Now People is saying that Drew Barrymore is going to write another book about her life. Praise be to the god in charge of dishy celebrity memoirs, thine are truly a loving, caring god.
According to Drew’s publisher (Dutton), Drew’s new book won’t be filled with heavy shit like LGL was, but instead will be a collection of essays about her life, which her publisher says will include:
“Living on her own at 14 (and how laundry may have saved her life), getting stuck in a gas station overhang on a cross-country road trip, saying goodbye to her father in a way only he could have understood, and many more adventures and lessons that have led to the most important thing in her life, which is motherhood.”
Well, there goes my hope for a potential story involving Drew and Cameron Diaz stealing Bill Murray’s sousaphone and using it as a makeshift bong on the set of Charlie’s Angels.
Drew commented on her new book, which doesn’t have a name right now, by saying: “I love stories that are humorous, emotional and welcoming, and that is my goal in writing this book.” Drew wrote LGL when she was 15, and she’s 40 now, which means that she has 25 years worth of humorous, emotional, and welcoming stories to catch up on. Basically what I’m saying is, she better save a couple pages for that time she flashed David Letterman and whether or not Courtney Love ever sat her down at any time in the mid-90s and told her that her foundation shade was way too light.
Yes, that is the O face Pimp Mama Kris made after she drew a pentagram (that’s her official signature) in blood on her new contract with E!. I understand if you need to clear your cookies, shut down your browser, turn off your laptop and dip it in holy water while vowing to never ever think of Dlisted again. I deserve it for throwing this dark-sided, unholy shit at you.
Page Six says that this country’s nightmare has been extended for another 4 years. Pimp Mama Kris has once again earned the title of Pimp of the Year by brokering a “record breaking” deal worth $100 million. PMK’s wax-covered, Botox-filled ATMs including Kummy Kakes, Khlozilla, The Slow One, Kendull and Kylie Jenner are all part of the deal. Bruce Jenner is not and neither is that one who lives under the stairs and only scurries out to grab a sandwich or a cupcake left on the kitchen island. I forgot his name and I’m sure they have too. Page Six says this deal is the biggest in reality shit show history.
The deal that is making the flames in Hell rise higher covers at least 4 more seasons of Keeping Up with the Kartrashians as well as new seasons of those Kourtney and Khloe Take (insert the name of the poor city they’re terrorizing here) shows. Thanks to E!’s deal with the devil, Khlozilla will continue to do red carpet stuff for them, Kummy Kakes will produce her own shows and PMK may open up a Kartrashian channel on YouTube. The source also spit out these fightin’ words:
“You’ll be seeing a lot more of the Kardashian family. This is a huge deal, which will see their involvement with the network and its digital properties expand well into the future.”
So that’s why I heard a high-pitched cackle echo through the land this morning. It was Ryan Seacrest, that evil midget minotaur with a blonde wig covering his whittled down horns, cackling as even more gold coins filled his pot.
This deal isn’t surprising. PMK has the E! exclamation point wrapped around her claw. If E! didn’t have the Kartrashians, what would they do? Greenlight a cooking show hosted by Giuliana Rancic? This world. It really is a sad day in America when Krapping Up on the Kartrashians is renewed for 4 more seasons and yet quality television like Flavor of Love isn’t on the air anymore.
And here’s Kim dressed like a day-shift Hunts Point hooker circa 1991 (no offense to day-shift Hunts Point hookers circa 1991) while going to the Brit Awards with Kanye yesterday.
That sound you just heard was my inbox preparing to quit a bitch in anticipation of all the angry Robsten fangirl emails I’m about to receive that begin with the subject line “RE: That Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-looking SKAAAAAANK!!!!”
So, I don’t know if “canoodly” is even a word, since I’m the type of person who scheduled all my college classes around The Jenny Jones Show, but it’s the best way to describe what former vampire/current aspiring dock worker Robert Pattinson and FKA Twigs were doing at a BRIT Awards afterparty. According to The Daily Mail, RFK Pantytwigs were seen getting all canoodly at the Warner Music Brits party, ie: they were holding hands and touching on each other. I know, a couple acting like a couple in public – SHOCKING. But trust me, there are definitely some die-hard Robsten fans who reacted to this news by spitting out a mouthful of sex-in-a-pan while whipping their copy of Fifty Shades Darker at the framed Edward Cullen poster on their wall.
I don’t know why RPattz is so obsessed with that low-budget Rent Boy from Trainspotting look, but either he needs to step it up a bit in the style department or she needs to hire a crappier stylist, because these two are starting to look like one of the mismatched couples on Jenny Jones every time she did an episode about unconventional relationships. I can just imagine Rude Jude as Cupid in front of a busted green screen wondering what circumstances brought a perpetually wet-looking sexy lady and the love child of Jimbo and Kearney from The Simpsons together.
Here’s more of a grimy-looking RPattz and a fancy-looking FKA Twigs leaving a BRIT Awards afterparty yesterday, as well as FKA Twigs looking fancy on the red carpet:
The cobblestone street of Via Rodeo in Beverly Hills will once again hear the clickety clack of Detective La Toya’s heels as she holds up her magnifying glass and searches for clues in her newest case: The Case of The Missing Bukkake Dress!
TMZ says that the custom-made Calvin Klein gown that Lupita Nyong’o wore to the Oscars was snatched from her hotel room and the LAPD is on the case. The cops believe that the oyster orgy dress was stolen from her room at The London hotel in West Hollywood between 8 and 9 at night on Tuesday. Lupita wasn’t in her room at the time. You’re probably thinking that the thieving thieves stole the dress to scrape off Lupita’s DNA to clone her, but nope. They probably stole the dress, because it’s made of 6,000 Akoya pearls and is valued at $150,000. The police are going over security footage to find the pearl thief. I got questions:
1. Whenever I stay in a hotel, I lock up my janky ass first-generation iPad in the safe. But yet Lupita just left this $150,000 dress out? The Calvin Klein people didn’t hire a bodyguard to lay his body over that dress at all times? If they didn’t want to do that, they could’ve just covered the dress with this picture. Nobody would’ve gone near it. In fact, they would’ve run from it screaming.
2. I thought that right after the Oscars ended, the designer’s assistants jumped on the celebrity, took back her borrowed dress and jewels and left her naked on the street?
The cops should really get a search warrant to search the Scientology Centre. Because if you rolled up that dress really tight, it’d be a great, big, thick, anal bead-encrusted dildo. But seriously, I’m sure they’ve already tried to bring in Lindsay Lohan, because when anything goes missing you should immediately point at a Lohan. But they probably can’t find her, because right now she’s on the beaches of Puerto Vallarta selling celebrity worn pearl necklaces out of a leather suitcase.
BREAKING: For the first time in what seems like an eternity, a judge has actually sort-of punished Lindsay Lohan for something shady. The NY Daily News says that a Manhattan judge took a legal swipe at the Apricot Ashtray and her little brother Michael Lohan Jr. on behalf of their former business partner Fima Potik. In case you have trouble keeping Lindsay Lohan’s current legal problems straight, this is the one about LiLo and her brother getting sued by their former business partner for ripping off a fashion app and marketing it as their own. So basically, stealing (aka the Lohan grift of choice).
On Wednesday, the judge ruled that LiLo, her brother, and their business partner (who isn’t actually just a wine-drunk Dina wearing a top hat and calling herself Mrs. Mister Monopoly, but a dude named Christopher Roth) had to pump the brakes on their app company, Vigme, and hit them with a temporary restraining order to make sure they actually do it, since we all know a Lohan’s word is about as good as a week-old donut.
In turn, the judge said that Potik must compensate LiLo, Mikey Jr., and Christopher Roth against any possible losses by putting up a cash bond of $100,000 within five days. That sound you just heard was a ball of coagulated self-tanner hitting the floor after LiLo heard the words “cash” and “$100,000″ and shit herself. Additionally, both parties still have to give sworn depositions.
Just to recap, Lindsay Lohan currently has three messy piles of legal dog poo festering on the Wee Wee Pad of her life. There’s this app drama, that community service drama, and the defamation lawsuit her and her mother threw at FOX News. I don’t know if Dick Wolf is interested in doing another Law & Order spin-off, but there’s definitely enough material for Law & Order: Freckled Court-Clogging Grifters.
Mama Celeste runs backstage crying after prospect #11 does the Not the Father dance. – Texndoc
Sure it can feed you tomatoes, but can it toss your salad? – Sheena
Pic: Customs Today
Vince Sly, the Santa Monica coconut vendor/holistic coach from Survivor: Worlds Apart!
The 10 millionth season of the show that makes you scream “That shit still exists?!!!!” premiered last night. This season, the three tribes have been split up by collars. There’s the blue collars (construction workers, postmen, etc…), the white collars (CEOs, office types, etc..) and the no collars, a tribe of free spirits who go where the wind takes them and don’t follow rules or live in a cubicle. I can practically hear my mom saying, “The stoners, basically,” while throwing me a “that’s your kind” side-eye.
Vince, in case you couldn’t tell from that picture of him looking like he was born and raised in Burning Man, is a part of the no collars. He’s a 32-year-old coconut vendor who has traveled all over this planet but lives in Santa Monica now. “Coconut vendor” has to be high on the list of greatest job titles. In his introduction video, Vince says that he owns Coconut Caravan, a “circus influenced but gypsy themed” coconut vending cart service that sells coconuts on the beach and at music festivals. He considers his company a PSO (a portable spiritual oasis). In other words, Vince is truly living the dream, because not only did he invent a company where he can inhale the good shit vapors all day, but he invented a company where inhaling the good shit vapors all day is actually an asset to his business.
But on last night’s episode, Vince needed a good bong rip, because he went too hard and just needed to lie back and go with the flow like his beautiful hair feathers blowing in the wind. Vince immediately started an alliance with his tribe mate Jenn and I guess he’s just used to coochie magically falling on his face, because he got the sads and had a serious talk with her when she started getting flirty with another dude. There’s obviously something very wrong with Jenn, because who wouldn’t immediately fall in love with a spiritual coconut vendor who looks like what Ke$ha would give birth to 9 months after fucking a stoned Fabio in a pool full of coconut milk at Coachella?
Vince is also a philosopher. Just a few minutes into last night’s episode, he blew out this verbal cloud of wisdom:
“As a coconut vendor, I seek truth. I am a seer of real.”
That has to be the greatest thing I’ve ever heard all week, if not month, if not year. Coconut Vendor should be a Marvel superhero, because he’s the real seeker of truth.
P.S. – Runner-up HSOTD is this dude who tore a leaf off of a tree and ate it while riding in the back of a truck.
Erykah Badu (44)
Teresa Palmer (29)
Shiloh Fernandez (30)
Ally Hilfiger (30)
Nate Ruess (33)
Sharon Van Etten (34)
Corinne Bailey Rae (36)
Max Martin (44)
Mark Dacascos (51)
Greg Germann (57)
Michael Bolton (62)
Bree Walker (62)
Dante Ferretti (72)
Fats Domino (87)
Pic: Giant Magazine