I know, I can’t believe it either. But according to TMZ, there are a couple of dickheads out there who have committed the unspeakably evil act of coming for flawless life diamond Bruce Jenner on the golf course. Have fun giving never-ending blowjobs to Satan, assholes, cause you just earned a yourselves a one-way ticket to Hell!
TMZ says that almost everyone who golfs with Bruce at his Thousand Oaks club loves him (DUH, he’s practically a living breathing Precious Moments angel figurine), but recently he’s found himself on the receiving end of some bitchy Mean Girl behavior. A source claims that one golfer passed Bruce and yelled: “How’s your dick?“. Rather than telling the truth and explaining that he’s still in the process of retrieving it from Kris Jenner’s klaws, Bruce replied by joking: “It’s right here. It hasn’t worked in 20 years.” Shortly after, another golfer cornered him in the locker room and started making fun of his gorgeous ombré ponytail before joking that he was going to cut it off.
Those caddy shack cunts! How DARE they come for Bruce like that? They’re obviously just jealous that God didn’t bless them with a glorious head of shimmering shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair or the right undertones to work a tricky color like Magenta Splash on their nails. Not to mention it must kill them every day to walk into the locker room and find a come-to-life Greek God staring back at them while working that body-oddy-oddy like “Oh, this old thing?”
I feel compelled to get Bruce a giant cookie cake from Mrs. Fields that says “DON’T LET THOSE JEALOUS BITCHES GET YOU DOWN, BOO BOO!“, but it would be a total waste of money. Bruce would be like “Who?? What jealous bitches?“. He probably doesn’t even know they exist. An opulent diva like Bruce has no time for tacky beauty-hating hags!
Sweet sassy Jambi, why are Pee-wee’s eyes so red? I bet that little ginger shithead Randy has something to do with it. Probably gave him pink eye. Fucking Randy.
Paul Reubens (who I like to pretend is actually Pee-wee Herman’s creepy uncle) confirmed on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon Wednesday night that nearly 30 years after the amazing Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (and 27 years after the…uh…slightly less amazing Big Top Pee-wee), Pee-wee Herman will be returning to the big screen. Reubens says he’s written the script, hired a director (he won’t say who), and plans to begin production in February of 2015 with Judd Apatow producing. So far it’s all very hush-hush, but if Judd Apatow is producing it, then there’s a good chance the part of Dottie will be played by Seth Rogen.
Pee-wee’s Big Adventure is practically a religion to me, and there’s nothing I would like more than to let Paul Reubens take me to church. But Pee-wee is 30 years older now, and I’m not sure I want to see Pee-wee going on a cross-country adventure to find his lost Hoveround or trying to do the Tequila dance breaking a hip. Aw, who am I kidding? I’ll be there on opening night dressed as Sharon Needles dressed as Pee-wee Herman. I should start shopping for some stretch plaid now.
And I hope Paul Reubens plans on filming this shit in Heaven, because you can’t make a new Pee-wee movie without Large Marge, Hobo Jack, and the bitchy Alamo tour guide! Especially the bitchy Alamo tour guide! Pee-wee is NOTHING without hearing Jan Hooks giggle-hiss out “Thayres no baysement at the Ahlahmow!”
“Here they are, y’all! Take a good look, cause you might not get to see ‘em for another couple of hours!”
The amfAR Inspiration Los Angeles Gala honoring Tom Ford was held on Wednesday night, and guess who showed up with her tits out? That’s right, everyone’s favorite permanent marker-huffing chipmunk Miley Cyrus! But since the amfAR Gala is some fancy shit, she knew she it would be inappropriate to roll up in a high-cut thong and weed leaf pasties. So instead, she decided to bust open a Sheer Elegance L’eggs, wear them as a shirt, and wrap up her backwoods nipple bits in some black duct tape. Miley is nothing if not a klassy lassy, after all.
THIS is how you do tasteful black tie elegance. Why wear a boring-ass evening gown when you can look like the crazy hillbilly cousin of Leeloo Dallas? Or a slutty futuristic project manager from Blade Runner? Or a waitress at an adults-only murder mystery dinner theater? Or a rejected member of The Black Tape Project (NSFW)? Or a goth figure skater? I could literally go on for hours, but you get the picture. BITCH LOOKS HOT!
And adding to the already dangerously high levels of Appalachian sophistication, Miley brought her gorgeous mom Tish Cyrus as her date. Sadly, Tish didn’t also dress like a slutty BDSM mime; instead, she wore a satin tablecloth and did her hair in a fancy show pony braid. Oh well, next time!
Here’s more of Miley looking like a low-budget Pris Stratton (because you need that in your life), as well as Lea Michele who – SURPRISE SURPRISE – was serving up middle-aged horny cougar realness, Alessandra Ambrosia Salad wearing the Las Vegas showgirl version of Miley’s outfit, and a bunch of boring covered-up hos:
Please don’t ask me what I want for Christmas this year, because last night I received the best present I could ever wish for when I opened up Twitter and discovered that my favorite beady-eyed sex possum went trash rat crazy and was throwing around F-bombs like it was two-for-one pitchers of Coors Light night at Hooters. It was the best day of my life; I was like the half-drunk grown-up version of the Nintendo 64 kids.
It all started earlier this week when The Deaner was papped leaving a sex shop in Encino, CA while his wife was laid-up at Cedars-Sinai with an acute case of famewhoreitis. Who knows if he was running errands for himself or if Tori Spelling had asked him to pick up some more lube to help the lies slide out of her mouth easier, but one anonymous person on Twitter thought it was in poor taste and called him out. That’s when The Deaner decided to go full-Deaner and let a bitch know what’s crappenin’:
It goes without saying that I have some major problems when it comes to using my brain (I literally forgot my own last name yesterday, for real), so it should surprise absolutely no one that I spent nearly 17 minutes staring at the lower half of Anne Hathaway and wondering what was going on. Is she wearing black granny panties? Or some sort of body suit? Is that dress supposed to be the matronly British lady version of this one? Why did I care? Who knows. All that matters is that I zoomed in so close that the chain-links on her dress began to look like a Magic Eye poster, and I was convinced I saw an eagle soaring majestically through the mountains. It was TRIPPY.
Anne was once again walking the red carpet for that Oscar Winners in Space movie (aka Interstellar), this time in London. Yes, Anne looks like tired farted on exhausted, but you would too if you were wearing a dress that weighs 46 lbs. I don’t know how she’s still standing. She should have asked to be wheeled up the red carpet on a dolly like Hannibal Lecter. Actually, fuck that. If I were Anne, I would have asked them to wheel my ass to the recycling depot so I could trade in my dress for cash. You could probably get at least $27.50 for that dress!
Here’s more of Anne Hathaway serving up some Spencer Gifts pin art thing realness at the UK premiere of Interstellar (grab your magnifying glasses), as well as Jessica Chastain, the stoned armadillo and his wife (who looked like a sexy Agreeable Tiger Moth), and most importantly – MAIH CUL CAYN!
I know that a picture of Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis sitting behind a Burger King sign at a basketball game has nothing to do with Baby Wyatt and her non-existent nannies, but I just figured it’s Hump Day, and who wouldn’t want to celebrate by thinking about delicious flame-broiled Whoppers? Yarm.
Ashton was on Conan O’Brien Tuesday night, and after throwing some Charles Schulz-y shade at Charlie Sheen, he decided to talk about his new baby Ashton confessed that even though he’s an insanely rich famous dude who is rich enough to hire someone to get elbow-deep in baby caca and projectile milk-barfed on at 3am, he hasn’t hired a nanny for Baby Wyatt. Why? Because he’s an insanely rich famous dude.
“We’re really privileged that we have time and can afford to take time. So we don’t have a nanny or a night nurse of any of the stuff. It’s just the two of us.”
Ashton and Mila are lucky, because they never have to worry about being too exhausted to take care of the baby. All they have to do is throw on an episode of That 70s Show and a pair of those glasses that make you look like you’re awake, and Baby Wyatt won’t even notice the difference. Sure, she might get confused later in life when people refer to her parents as “Mila and Ashton” instead of “Jackie and Kelso”, but that’s nothing a little therapy can’t fix. And for those of you wondering how they got the name “Wyatt”, Ashton explains:
“We were going to a Lakers game and I got name Tourette’s and I just started listing off anything and everything that I saw: ‘Sign! Truck! Wall! Door!’ She [was] like, ‘Shut up!’ Then I was like, ‘I’ve got a really dumb idea. What about Wyatt?’ She goes, ‘That’s it.’”
I’m sorry, but how do you go from names like sign, truck, wall, door to Wyatt? Maybe Ashton pulled up to an intersection and saw a dude dressed like a cellphone spinning a sign that said “ASK ME WHY AT&T WANTS YOU TO SWITCH TODAY!“. Wyatt works, but did he ever consider Cellphondrea (pronounce cell-PHON-drea, obviously)? Come on, Cellphondria is a hot name!
If that isn’t the face of a calculating come-to-life corn broom saboteur, then I don’t know what is. Here, let’s take a closer look, shall we?
Ahhhh! I can practically feel her eyes penetrating my soul and tricking me into buying $2,600 imported sea urchin venom eye cream!
But back to what’s really important here. According to Radar, the 10-week-old love between Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Martin that recently floated away on a fart cloud might have Gwyneth Paltrow’s hand-pressed organic almond milk stink all over it. Even though Chill Girl Gwynnie claimed to be happy that her ex had moved on and was trying to get all Goopsterhood of the Traveling Size 0 Pants with JLaw, a source claims that behind the closed doors of Castle Goopskull, that crafty corn broom was doing everything in her power to DESTROY THEM. And who did she recruit to help take down Martin Lawrence? The Gooplets!
Meanwhile up in the right corner, Squinty Zellweger is like “And I don’t always want to be known as Squinty! I’m doing a good job, right?”
Unless you’re a huge Pieces of April fan (and really, who isn’t), I think we can all agree that the most interesting thing Katie Holmes has ever done was agreeing to be Tom Cruise’s robotic dead-eyed Stepford wife and birthing out The Intergalactic Empress of Xenu, Suri. However, Katie Holmes wants you to know that Katie Holmes has a lot more to offer that just being known as the Bride of Scientology. Tommy Girl’s former Gretchen Wieners tells People:
“I don’t want that moment in my life to define me, to be who I am,” she says of her post-split persona. “I don’t want that to be what I’m known as. I was an actor before, an actor during and an actor now.”
She also says that she’s no longer scared to see one of Tommy Girl’s sassy Scientology henchmen at her front door wearing one of John Travolta’s busted facial wiglets and holding a giant burlap sack, claiming to be a “Federal Drywall Inspector” who needs to “step inside” and “talk to you about…something”. NO! She doesn’t actually specify, but that’s what I’d be askaird of if I was once married to Tom Cruise.
“I don’t have any fear now, I don’t have a lot of rules for myself, and I don’t take myself that seriously.”
I just pictured Katie Holmes in a NO FEAR t-shirt, and yeah, I got quite a kick out of it.
This isn’t the first time Katie has spoken about the five years she spent as Tom Cruise’s My Size Thetan, and it won’t be the last. I bet she’ll be in a nursing home and people will be asking her shit like: “Katie, would you rather watch Matlock or tell me about when you were married to Tom Cruise?“. Then when she dies, Jesus will be like “Hey girl! Remember that time you were married to Tom Cruise?!?” Then when Suri eventually ascends to power as the leader of the Galactic Confederacy and takes over the world, Scientologists will announce her arrival by saying: “All hail Her Majesty Suri, the chosen one born of Katie Holmes! Speaking of, remember when Katie Holmes was married to Tom Cruise?!?” It will never end!
Don’t worry guys, she means the family fashion business. I know, I got nervous for a second there too.
Even though North West is barely 16 months old, it sounds like Kim Kardashian has already started planning out how she will click-clack make that money. Kim has stated in the past that she expects North to work like she had to growing up (cut to teenage Kim fishing quarters out of the fountain at the Beverly Center and dropping them into a jar marked “KIMBERLY’S BUTT FUND”), but recently she told ITN (via The Daily Mail) that she hopes that North will follow in her footsteps and become a fashion designer. This just in: Kim thinks her job is ‘fashion designer’. When asked if she’d ever consider letting her favorite fashion accessory design some hooker-looking clothes for TRASH by Kim Kardashian (or whatever the hell it’s called), Kim answered:
“I would if she has good style, she’d have to prove herself. She’d have to show me that she wants to work, but that would be in years and years and years. So we have some time. I hope the collection grows until then and maybe one day she can take over.”
I know Kim hopes her klothing kollekshun grows into a too-tight cheap n’ tacky empire by the time North is old enough to start working, but North is no dummy (I’ve seen that “Hooker, PLEASE” look on her face every time she’s photographed with her mother). I’m sure North is hoping that years and years from now, there will be a worldwide drought of cheap polyester and her mom’s klothing line will go out of business. Then she can go into the other family business: mass-producing next-level glamour with Grampa Bruce.
Here’s North’s mom (looking like a cross between The Incredible Mr. Limpet and a Real Doll) and North’s dad on their way to a tech conference in San Francisco yesterday. Yes, someone hired The Human Butt to speak at a tech conference. I guess the Dancing Baby had a previous commitment.
The Los Angeles premiere of Interstellar (aka Gravity 2: Electric Space-aloo) was held last night, and for some reason, Anne Hathaway decided to decorate her right hand with a bunch of jagged metal Krusty Os. NO! I know they’re supposed to be stars, but they seriously look like something that could do a shit-ton of damage. I’m sure many people at the after-party spent the entire night terrified that the DJ would yell “Wave your hands in the air if you just don’t care!“, and prompt her drunk ass to start whipping that thing around like a mace. Wait, do Hollywood premieres even have DJs? I don’t think it would matter; Anne Hathaway strikes me as the type who lives by the mantra “dance like no one is watching, sing like no one asked.”
Then again, Anne could be wearing that angry net of pewter star barnacles (starnacles?) to deter any more journalists from trying to shake her hand. Just because she loves you doesn’t mean she wants your dirty Ebola germs, people!
But as much shade as I’m throwing Annie H for that diamond-encrusted disaster, I legit love it for two reasons:
1. It reminds me of when Charlotte’s 1 million spider babies are born at the end of Charlotte’s Web
2. It’s giving me flashbacks to the mountains of busted-looking Jazzy Jewelry I made as a kid. In fact, I’m pretty sure I made something similar to what’s on Anne’s hand, except it was a necklace and it was covered in glitter glue. And to answer your question, yes, it looked STUNNING paired with my Northern Getaway turtlenecks.
Here’s more of Anne and her low-budget Dr. Claw hand at the Interstellar premiere last night, as well as stoned armadillo Matthew McConaughey and his wife (who sort of looks like a sexy puddle, if that makes any sense?), Jessica Chastain, and Renesmee from Twilight: