Gamble Breaux from The Real Housewives of Melbourne!
I have already paid homage to the most beautiful and smartest woman in Australia and now it’s time to pay homage to my second favorite Real Housewife of Melbourne: Gamble Breaux! Gamble Breaux deserves to be HSOTD for the simple fact that her name is Gamble Breaux. The name Gamble Breaux sounds like a cross between the name of a gay-for-pay hustler from New Orleans and the name of an 80s Bond Girl.
Gamble Breaux is one of the newest Housewives of Melbourne and she made her grand debut on season 2. Of course, all of those bitches are jealous of her from the beginning, because her man’s an eye surgeon (he’s the silver-haired pepaw in the pictures below) and she’s a HIGHLY IMPORTANT art collector and gallery girl. Those jealous bitches immediately start rumors about Gamble. They say she’s a gold digging swinger who used to be a stripper/call girl and has orgies with her sugar daddy fiancé. Those jealous bitches act like being a gold digging swinger who used to be a stripper/call girl is a bad thing! But of course Gamble isn’t a gold digging swinger who used to be a stripper/call girl. She is a chaste dew drop who was a pure virgin before she met her sugar daddy fiancé.
In addition to being an art consultant and a true lady of elegance, Gamble also has a line of amazingly sophisticated no hand holster bags. You can tell just by looking at her that Gamble is a lover of toy dogs. There’s a type and she’s it. She has a Pomeranian named Cash who she shows at amateur dog shows. You’d think that the most fascinating thing about Gamble is her luscious vanilla/chocolate swirl hair color, but it’s her accent and voice. Her accent has a dash of Ja’mie King in it. Gamble has trouble pronouncing some words like “feminist” and she says it’s because she was semi-deaf as a child.
Here’s Gamble showing all of us that she’s the Pomeranian Whisperer by expertly training Cash:
If Gina is the Queen of Melbourne, Gamble is the Princess of Melbourne. I bow at her grace and demureness.
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Jane Fonda shut it down at the Golden Globes. Jane Fonda shut it down at the Grammys. And now here’s Jane Fonda shutting it down at the 101st Annual White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner in DC tonight. That’s just what Jane Fonda does. She shuts shit down.
Jane slithered onto the red carpet tonight giving everyone sparkly body and wild Nancy Reagan hair. When Jane put her hand on her hip, hos left and right picked up their coats. When Jane stuck her leg out like that, they told their date to call an Uber and they headed toward the exit, because they know that Jane’s got this. If the Nerd Prom was an actual prom, Jane Fonda would be the cool senior who lets the nerd boys hold her jacket and purse while she smokes a joint behind the gym.
When I first saw that picture of Jane, “Sooner Or Later,” filled my head, because she is delivering some Breathless Mahoney glamour.
Oh great, now Joe Biden’s going to go up to Jane Fonda and whisper in hear ear, “Hey, Breathless, you want to meet my Dick Tracy?”
Pics: Splash, Getty
I’m taking a break from talking non-stop about Bruce Jenner’s ass and metal poisoning of the pussy to bring you this story of survival and Girl Scout Cookies. I knew there was a good reason for why I keep 14 boxes of Girl Scout Cookies in my freezer. They are a miracle food that saves lives! Take note, Dr. Oz, that’s how you use the word “miracle” the right way!
The Associated Press (via People) says that on April 11th, 56-year-old Lee Wright and her 52-year-old sister Leslie Roy were driving through a desolate part of Michigan when their SUV got stuck in the snow. They thought the roads would be paved, but they weren’t. Their cell phones didn’t get any service and it was way too cold, snowy and gross to get out and walk toward help. So they really had no choice but to stay in their SUV and hope that Elsa from Frozen stomped on by after having another stupid fight with her sister.
The only kind of food they had in their SUV were 8 boxes of Girl Scout Cookies they bought from a relative and a bag of cheese puffs. They also had water and they made their own water from snow. Since the road they were on is hardly used, they were in that bitch for two goddamn weeks. Lee and Leslie had a reservation at a hotel in Mackinaw City on April 11th, but of course they didn’t show up. The bad news about being trapped in an SUV for two weeks is that you’re trapped in an SUV for two weeks. But the good news is that at least you have delicious Girl Scout Cookies to keep your mouth busy and if you’re going to die, you may as well die with the taste of Thin Mints on your tongue.
The power in their SUV eventually went out and they had to keep warm by wearing pretty much all the clothes they packed for their trip.
On Friday, after nearly two weeks of searching for them, a helicopter finally spotted their SUV. They were SAVED! They were fine, but a little weak.
That sounds like the plot for the reworking of Alive starring Britney and Jamie Lynn Spears.
Lee and Leslie need to take over as the new hosts of Man vs. Wild. Fuck Bear Grylls and his drinking piss and eating larvae shit. These ladies know that the key to staying alive in the wild is to always have a stash of Girl Scout Cookies and cheese puffs on you. And I can hear every stoner going, “Pff,” because most of us have survived on nothing but Girl Scout Cookies and Cheetos for years.
After that Snapchat picture of Jared Leto was burned onto the wall of your nightmares and those pictures of him looking like Powder’s sad raver brother made the rounds, Suicide Squad’s director David Ayer finally twatted up a picture of the Joker in all his Joker glory. Get into his Sharpie tattoos and pimple nips.
This shit is very “Fuckin’ magnets, how do they work?”
Bitch looks like the trailer park’s resident meth head who is also in Fort Myers, FL’s 6th most popular Marilyn Manson cover band and is known at the Gathering of the Juggalos as the crackhead who butt fucked himself with a 2 ounce plastic Fagyo bottle as a dare. He also looks like Hot Topic’s answer to that Die Antwoord dude. If you want to get as far away from Heath Ledger’s Joker as possible, this is one way to go. The only thing I have to say is that anyone who gets with this joker is a brave bitch, because he’ll give you metal poisoning of the pussy or ass if he munches on your down low parts. You know how it feels all wrong when you accidentally chew on foil? I wonder if it feels that same way when foil teeth chew on you?
In “faces you forgot existed” news, Kris Humphries, one of the Geico cavemen’s slower cousins whose marriage to Kim Kartrashian lasted about as long as a pussy sneeze, watched Bruce Jenner’s big coming out last night and had something to say about it.
Many people pulled out their pitchforks and were ready to drag the Shrek version of Taylor Lautner, because they thought he was yanking at Bruce Jenner’s main. (Pro tip: If you want to destroy Kris Humphries. You don’t need to use a weapon. Just ask him to divide 4 into 12 and watch as his head slowly explodes.) But I didn’t take it as a Bruce dig. I took his tweet as a Kuntrashian dig.
After the Internet tore him a new one, he tried to clear shit up:
I think the real story here is that this pube-brained douche used the word “hence in a tweet and didn’t use any emojis. I would be offended over something Kim Kartrashian’s second husband of five seconds said, but I’m too busy being offended and disgusted over my nearest Starbucks being all out of old-fashioned donuts this morning. Now that is some shit to start a petition for.
And here’s Kummy Kakes looking like an alien cult leader at Variety’s Power of Women luncheon in NYC yesterday.
During Diane Sawyer’s 2-hour long conversation with Bruce Jenner, which was watched by nearly 17 million pairs of eyeballs (you can watch it here if your ass missed it), she said that it would be his last interview as Bruce Jenner. Since she said that, I was hoping that he’d tell us what his new name is. The tabloids have said that his new name is Belinda. But I’m hoping that it’s either Concepcion (because this world desperately needs a famous type named Concepcion) or Kriscangotohella Jenner. Bruce didn’t say what his new name is, because he thinks the media will go crazy with it. Maybe he’s saving that info for his new E! reality show, which is happening and will air this summer.
Ha! I bet even Lindsay Lohan’s reflection in the mirror is giving her “Sure, Jan” face right now. So, remember a few days ago when the Apricot Ashtray threw up a picture on Instagram of the words “You’re a donkey” in Arabic with the words “You’re beautiful“ incorrectly written underneath in English? Well, Lindsay wants you to know it was all just a joke and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with any of her Middle Eastern ‘business friends’ trolling her in real life. Lindsay tried to clear her name by Instagramming a picture of a Valentino purse she will no doubt later search for on Bag Borrow or Steal (“The third option is my favorite“) with the following caption:
“FYI- The funny thing is-the Arabic photo I posted was an inside joke w/friend to test my Arabic w/out Google translation. So, was already known what it was.”
Give me a second, I need to translate that from Confusing to English. But if it was just a joke, then why did she yank it down so fast after everybody called her out? Or why didn’t she write that in the first place? I have no idea. Understanding Lindsay Lohan’s brain isn’t something I have the mental strength to tackle today.
I know Lindsay is so determined to speak a bunch of different languages, but she really needs to pick one and get good at it before moving on. She can barely handle English! Not to mention her piss-poor American Sign Language skills; she clearly hasn’t learned anything beside the letter V. Forget new purses, bitch needs Rosetta Stone.
Here’s more of the aspiring English
rose bouquet of dollar store silk flowers strolling around London on Thursday:
Sydney Channing (as played by Broadway star and Amanda Plummer’s mother Tammy Grimes) from Can’t Stop The Music!
Diane Sawyer gets extra points for repeatedly throwing several servings of shade at Krapping Up the Kartrashians by calling it “that show,” but she lost points for not telling ABC that her interview with Bruce Jenner should be 3 hours long, because she needed a full hour to discuss his greatest achievement: Can’t Stop The Music! I mean, who cares about the Wheaties box and those infomercials with Pimp Mama Kris? Interviewing Bruce Jenner and not asking him about Can’t Stop The Music is like interviewing the Dalai Lama and not asking him about the time he met Joanna Krupa. It’s the pinnacle moment of his career!
Can’t Stop The Music was a multiple-award winning (yes, the Razzies count as an award) glittery gay extravaganza from 1980 and Bruce Jenner made his movie debut in it. I need to watch it again on Netflix, because I barely remember what it’s about, but that’s okay. Who watches that beautiful wreck for the plot, anyway? You watch it for the man nipples, glitter and extravaganza! If you haven’t seen it and don’t have Netflix, just get really coked up and have two people splash your face with glitter and man sweat while blasting the Village People in your ears. That’s what watching it sort of feels like.
It has everything you need in a cinematic masterpiece: Bruce Jenner in a cut-off shirt, Valerie Perrine’s nipples, the gayest and greatest shower scene on Earth, a musical number about leche, Steve Guttenburg trying to dance, shitty acting, forty loads of glitter, more velour than a Boca Raton retiree’s closet and the Village People. It’s perfection. And one of my favorite parts of that sequin-covered train wreck (besides the peen slips, musical numbers, man nipples and glitter, of course) is Tammy Grimes as Sydney Channing.
Sydney Channing is Valerie Perrine’s snobby, high-and-mighty, overbearing modeling agent who apparently drinks cocktails out of what looks like a candleholder. Valerie Perrine’s character is a retired supermodel and Sydney gets one of her minions to try to lure her biggest moneymaker back to modeling. I bet Anna Wintour is pretty much bald, because every time she watches Can’t Stop The Music (which is all the time, probably), she yanks her wig off and pulls out whatever hairs she has left out of frustration over knowing that she’ll never be Sydney Channing!
If you haven’t done your daily ass kegels yet, watch the trailer for CSTM and get ready to pucker and clench:
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