Blac Chyna, Lamar Odom, Tyga, and Bella Thorne were all at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel Wednesday night, and, no, it wasn’t because there was a $4.99 buffet. I checked. Entertainment Tonight says Blac was there for something called an iGO.live launch, which apparently is some sort of streaming service… girl, that just sounds like a faster way to spread revenge porn- not exactly something these four horsemen of the apocalypse should want promoted!
You would think that someone who is so dedicated to music that they get a music-themed armband tattoo should be guaranteed a long and successful career, but that’s not what happened in Willa Ford’s case. Willa recently spoke to Billboard about a possible comeback, and the career that never was.
Is there a customer service line for humanitarian complaints? If so, then they’re no doubt very busy today fielding calls from people demanding Angelina Jolie be stripped of her title for the questionable shenanigans she pulled in Cambodia while casting First They Killed My Father.
Unlike a certain goody, goody pop star who pretends like a wild night for her is when she, Meredith Grey, and Olivia Benson stay up late sipping Swiss Miss and watch Murder, She Wrote, Charli XCX ain’t fucking around. Or maybe she is. While she’s singing, “I was busy thinkin’ bout boys, boys, boys” in her latest video (same, girl), I can certainly see why. It’s like a peen parade. No, you don’t see actual peen, but plenty of man nalgas!
We all knew that just because Sean Spicer quit those bitches at The White House, he wasn’t going to go gentle into that good night. Spicey is ready to cash in his chips and get that paper now that he’s been unchained from his podium in the fortress of solitude, or wherever he’s been hiding out these past few months. Sean hasn’t been wasting time either.
As you may have known, back in 2014, Charlize Theron was allegedly approached by Tia Mowry while they waited to go into the spin torture chamber that is SoulCycle. Charlize allegedly was all, “Sister/Sister is gonna get Blister/Blistered by my knuckles if she don’t get up out my face!” (I’m paraphrasing…or am I?!) The whole thing turned into a competing form of cardio that doesn’t cost $34 a class, as we all raced around trying to see who was going to say what, or who was going to try and get the other blacklisted from hopping on a stationary bike and getting screamed at by a twink to the tune of a sick Reba McEntire remix for an hour.