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.
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:
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.
The 90s better watch out, because even though they’re hot shit right now, the return of Bennifer can only mean one thing: that the ’00s are creeping up behind the 90s and are getting ready to yank its wig off. If you’re more ant than grasshopper, now would be the time to pull out your slutty flared-leg dirty denim jeans with the lace-up crotch and/or stiletto Timberlands.
During a commercial break at the Oscars on Sunday night, ABC News (via E!) says that Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck had a mini Bennifer reunion that involved lots of whispering. After the presentation of the award for Best Documentary Feature, JLo’s former butt rubber walked over to where she was sitting in the front row, leaned over, and whispered something in her ear. JLo then reportedly “playfully smacked his arm.” A playful arm smack? If Auntie Nelda was a real person, this would be where she’d look up from her glasses and hiss “Keep your hands to yourself, you home-wrecking slap-having hussy tramp.”
Ben Affleck then reportedly moved his whisper game on to Bradley Cooper who, unlike JLo, didn’t respond with a playful smack on the arm. Huh, that’s weird – B. Coop has always struck me as a light-hearted “Oh YOU” playful slap type.
But what the hell was Ben Affleck whispering? I’m going to guess he whispered “I got a bunch of Gigli DVDs in my garage if you want ‘em” to JLo and “That was some primo acting you did with that fake baby in American Sniper – I legit believed it was a real baby” to B. Coop. Then he returned back up the aisle to JLo and whispered “No really, my wife says I need to get rid of them. Can I swing by your house later tonight with the first round of boxes?“
Groot gonna be a daddy! People says that humanoid sweatpants bulge Vin Diesel busted a NOS-boosted fast and furious nut up inside his girlfriend Paloma Jiménez and now she’s knocked up with their third child. Vin and Paloma (whose name is making me hungy for a delicious honey pomelo right now) already have a 6-year-old daughter named Hania and a 4-year-old son named Vincent. Today I learned: Vin Diesel’s kids aren’t named Riptide and Turbo, like I always assumed they would be.
I don’t often get jealous of babies, since they’re always peeing their pants and I’m only sometimes peeing my pants, but I’m very very jealous of Vin’s future baby. Why? Two reasons:
1. Vin’s body is roughly 108% muscle (his body has muscles normal humans don’t have yet), which means he’ll be strong enough to carry that baby to bed well into its adult years. I am jealous of this because getting carried to bed is fun as hell.
2. After it’s carried to bed, Vin will no doubt sing his baby to sleep with that peanut butter smooth voice of his. Imagine the caliber of dreams you’d have if your lullabies were sung by a buff angel like Vin Diesel? Exactly – nothing but top-shelf dreams. God, that baby is SO lucky.
Here’s more of that lucky baby’s father at Vanity Fair’s post-Oscar party on Sunday night. I know that your eyes already got a taste of him on Monday, but here’s more, because who couldn’t use a couple more pictures of that Growly Adonis:
I know what you’re thinking: FINALLY! Go ahead and tell your boss that you’re leaving work early, go home, and crawl into bed – you’re going to want to catch up on all that sleep you lost over this butterscotch belly button business, I’m sure.
During an interview with BBC’s Radio 1 Breakfast Show (via Yahoo) the human version of Cheerleader from Teen Girl Squad Taylor Swift was asked why back in January we went from living in a world where nobody knew what Taylor Swift’s belly button looked like to a world where Taylor Swift’s belly button was staring us down like a frightened spider in the bathtub. Taylor explained the reason why she posted a picture of herself in a belly button-baring bikini during her Hawaiin vacation with the Haim girls to Instagram and – surprise surprise – it had to do with making sure someone not named Taylor Swift wasn’t making a single dime off of Taylor Swift:
“My security gets out the binoculars and sees that [the paparazzi] have a huge long lens camera. … At which point, we go back to the beach and realize, ‘okay, so they got pictures of us in our bikinis’. I don’t want them to make, like, $100,000 for a bikini shot. And so we’re like, ‘Get up on the bow of the boat: we’re taking better bikini shots so that they don’t make as much money on theirs.’”
Does Tay Tay really think a picture of her in a bikini is worth $100,000? Someone needs to inform her that as long as Target still carries Beach Fun Barbie™, we can see that shit for free.
But wait a second – I thought the paps were on Tay Tay’s BFF list? I’m sure there’s a very panic-stricken pap outside Tay Tay’s apartment in New York at this very minute screaming “No YOU calm down, Larry! What if we’re next? What if she stops calling us to take pictures of her walking to and from her car twice a day? I just put a down payment on a boat, for chrissakes!”
Here’s Tay Tay at the Elle Style Awards last night not wearing a peacoat and a cloche for once:
Pics: Instagram, Wenn.com
Raise your hand if you too looked at this picture of Jamie Dornan and the sad Charlie Brown music started playing. Something tells me that’s the exact same face he made when his agent told him he’s not going anywhere.
Yesterday there was a rumor going around that Jamie Dornan had found a loophole in the contract he signed with Satan that could get him out of a Fifty Shades of Grey sequel and he was saying ‘bye bitch’ to Christian Grey. However, today Jamie Dornan is saying the rumor that he’s leaving is a lie (even if in his heart I’m sure he wishes it were true). Jamie’s people released a statement to ABC News today confirming that he has no plans to leave that awful mess:
“Jamie is delighted that the film is breaking box office records worldwide and whilst the studio has not made any formal announcements about sequels, he is looking forward to making the next film.”
I speak bullshit PR, so allow me to translate for you: Jamie signed a contract, so Jamie can’t leave. We don’t care how embarrassed he is of Fifty Shades, as long as this shit is pulling in more money than Jesus after rigging the powerball in Heaven, he’ll put on the grey suit and make with the slappitty-slap.
Well, there you have it. Looks like EL James can stop writing a list (sorry – poorly writing a list) of potential hunks to replaceme Jamie and living breathing tube of unflavored Carmex Dakota Johnson can stop texting her agent “NOT FAIR! WHY DOES HE GET TO LEAVE?!?“
So much for the a face only a father could love theory. During an interview with Meredith Vieira (via E!), Pazuzu’s long-lost twin brother Marc Anthony acknowledged what we all sort of know deep down in our most judgmental heart of hearts: that he’s not exactly…how you say…a looker. However, he didn’t discover this information one day on the internet after searching “Marc Anthony Skeletor how much look like really” or from watching his ex-wife describe her past pieces on Watch What Happens Live; Marc Anthony learned that Marc Anthony was hotness challenged from his father, who also happens to be hotness challenged.
“It is what it is. My dad told me early on, ‘Son, we’re both ugly.’ I swear to God, he says it to this day. He said you work on your personality. It builds character.”
When Meredith asked if that kind of brutal read hurt his feelings, Marc Anthony answered:
“Absolutely not. I was born looking at his face, and he was right.”
Marc Anthony’s dad is right though; even the most Szyslakian face is no match for a panty-dropping personality. If Jon Hamm didn’t look like Jon Hamm, he’d still be eyeball-deep in pussy, because he’s got a great personality. A great, big, thick 12″ personality. NO! It’s because he can make a bitch laugh. Besides, Marc Anthony has the voice of a horny angel, and that’s kind of sexy. It’s also the kind of thing you can close your eyes to and still enjoy while you’re getting your fuck on. Sure, you might have a heart attack once you open them and realize you’re banging Skeletor, but that’s your own fault – humping on the truly sexy sometimes comes with a price!
If you know anyone who works at Webster’s, do them a favor and send some dinner over to their office tonight; I have a feeling they’re going to be putting in some extra hours after this story broke and they were forced to rewrite the definition of the word random. Humanoid chicken nugget/donkey sauce enthusiast/professional diarrhea maker Guy Fieri must have finally overcome his crippling fear of gay people, because this weekend he decided to marry a bunch of them in Florida.
Page Six says that Guy Fieri performed 101 same-sex wedding ceremonies during the annual South Beach Wine & Food Festival in Miami this weekend. Guy’s friend and fellow chef Art Smith (referring to Guy as a ‘chef’ might have been the most offensive thing I’ve ever written on this site, BTW) announced shortly after same-sex marriage became legal in Florida back in January that the first 101 same-sex couples to tweet the hashtag #101gayweddings would get married en masse at the The James Royal Palm hotel in Miami.
I don’t know if Art Smith also mentioned that the person doing the dearly beloveds would be the mistake baby of Joey Fatone and a box of Clairol Frost & Tip, but I would assume not, since he probably didn’t want a bunch of people responding to his contest with the hashtag #thanksbutnothanks. And for those of you wondering why Guy Fieri officiated the 101 weddings, Page Six says it was to honor the memory of his late sister, who was a lesbian.
And to explain that picture above, Guy Fieri was joined by Duff Goldman, who made the wedding cake, and Ted Allen, who was there because Ted Allen is awesome and should be invited to everything.
I know it’s random as hell, but it sort of makes sense that Guy Fieri is an ordained minister. He’s been bringing people and toilets together for years, so it’s about time he branched out and started bringing people together with other people.