Remember when St. Angie Jolie’s fame whoring leg took over the Oscars? Of course you don’t, because that boring memory has been replaced by this much more relevant moment from a much, much, much, MUCH, much more relevant and talented star!
So, we finally know the answer to the question of the week: Why wasn’t the Queen of Cannes at Cannes? Phoebe Price couldn’t be bothered with Cannes this year, because she was too busy spreading her beauty and charisma at an event that has more elegance and artistry on the tip of its clit than Cannes has in its entire being. On Wednesday night, Chicken Cutlets brought her ginger poultry glamour to the most important awards show in the world: The Reality TV Awards in L.A. The hardest-working supermodel and seat filler in the game wore an exquisite gown that was cut so high that everyone got a peek of her freckled Filet O’Fish. Chicken Cutlets served up some surf and turf and everybody wanted several servings. Yes, I hate myself a little more today for typing that.
On that note…
This weekend, I’m going to Las Vegas to do a 2-day residency at the penny slots at Treasure Island (or whatever casino has penny slots). In between that, I’m going to catch a double feature of MESS. I’m seeing Our Lady of Cheetos and Mimi (that’s only if her unicorn “bronchitis” doesn’t get worse). I’m driving to Vegas this morning, so I’m clocking out early. (Yes, we clock in and out Flinstones-style.) Allison is covering most of the day and J. Harvey is filling in for me on Sunday. The Billboard Music Awards are on Sunday and if it produces any dingles of fuckery, I’ll post it that night. That’s if I don’t get arrested and charged with disturbing the peace for trying to recreate Nomi’s pole dance from Showgirls at Cheetahs.
For now, I leave you with these pictures of Chicken Cutlets’ chocharonies. Chicken bacon is what’s for breakfast!