I type the term “mistress” and not “sidepiece,” because Dlisted is about class and dignity. What many of you might not know is that Michael K requires us all to wear Alexis Carrington knock-off outfits when we blog here. True story.
You know in Mary J. Blige’s video for “Family Affair” when she’s nonchalantly throwing lobster claws at the camera in that danceree? And you thought “wow, Mary J. Blige is being wasteful just flinging that expensive and delicious lobster all over the place,” right? Well, it turns out that the real wasteful one in Mary’s life was her ex-husband, Kendu Issacs.
Amy Schumer gets a lot of flack from all segments of the population for being shrill and annoying, thinking she’s funnier than she is, allegedly being a klepto for jokes, acting as an enabler for Lena Dunham’s privilege, pissing off comedy treasure Tig Notaro, wearing things like this, coming dangerously close to foisting a Barbie movie on us, and so on.
But, like the rest of us, Amy is multi-faceted. And one of those facets is that she’s so grateful for being allowed to piss, that she spends thousands of dollars on a stranger. A mattress store employee let Amy use of the store’s bathroom, so Amy bought her a $2,000 mattress. I hope she didn’t ask to use the mattress store employee’s discount to buy that mattress, because that would render this gesture a little tacky.
All of those flicks wherein David Spade rode Chris Farley’s love handles to success must have made bank, because short nasally plain-janes normally don’t achieve this level of hot girl date acquisition. Not trying to promote the human race’s tired beauty standards, but I’m fat and pale with a giant melon and no chin. You didn’t see me regularly landing speedo-clad-and-they-have-every-right-to-with-that-body, gym bunny model ass before I tricked my gorgeous teddy bear of a husband into marrying me. It’s just how the world tends to work.
If the Death Star had a food court and that food court had a McDonalds, well – feast your eyes on what the uniforms would have looked like. Grand Moff Tarkin on the fryolator! This is what you see when you order your Chicken McNuggets pre-blowing Alderaan to bits. Paelofuture is showing off the new McDonalds USA uniforms and damn, monochrome space drab.
The new togs are by designers Waraire Boswell and Bindu Rivas, and were supposedly developed based on feedback from employees and customers. Were everyone’s serotonin reuptake inhibitors malfunctioning the time this survey was distributed?
“Our new collections focus on comfort, fit, functionality and contemporary professionalism, delivering a uniform that crew and managers will feel comfortable to work in and proud to wear,” said Jez Langhorn, McDonald’s Senior Director of HR. “Beyond that, it’s another step in the company’s continuous effort to raise the bar by investing in people and improving the restaurant experience with a focus on hospitality.”
Life is morbid and depressing enough. I go to McDonald’s to eat life-shortening food to get through the bad stuff in life. It’s going to be difficult to inhale my two delicious apple pies for a buck, with a reminder that lonely death is the endgame for all of us staring me right in the face.
Kurt Russell revealed some deets about his and Goldie Hawn’s first date during an appearance on Harry Connick Jr.’s talk show, Harry. Apparently, they were getting after it when the cops caught them.
Wait, who gave Harry Connick Jr. a talk show? He’s so annoying. The only time I’ve ever liked Harry Connick Jr. was when he was menacing Sigourney Weaver in the movie Copycat, and his character had bad teeth and referred to her underwear as “squirrel covers.” That always alternately repulsed/tickled me.
Oh, right, Kurt and Goldie.
Her name is Chloe Sevigny. And it’s recently come to her attentshun that some behavior on Instagram is “disgusting.” (Those videos have run on a little too long but still – classic.)
Boho chic NYC actress vintage shopper realness queen, Chloe, told Net-A-Porter that she only uses her 570,000-follower Instagram account in certain ways, and you also won’t see her promoting herself that much. She’d really much rather be taking pictures with a dirty, barely functioning Polaroid camera she found at a curio shop in Harlem for $300, then send the pics snail mail to a former lover who’s holed up in a tiny flat in Gstaad, writing poetry about the revolution. Or something. FYI Chloe, just because it’s easier, doesn’t mean it’s not as good.