Last week, TMZ reported that Casey Kasem’s gold digging, sane-deficient widow, Jean Kasem, was trying to move his body from a funeral home in Montreal to Oslo, Norway. Casey’s oldest children were trying to stop that from happening, because they claim that he wanted to be buried at Forest Lawn in Glendale, CA. The people of Oslo better arm themselves with buns and blocks of cheese, because that crazy bitch is coming their way and she attacks with raw hamburger meat. So if she hamburgers them in the face, they can at least cook that meat up and have a delicious meal.
The Los Angeles Times says that Jean petitioned officials in Norway to allow Casey to be buried there. Instead of listening to Jean’s pleas, the officials should’ve quickly passed a law banning all American Amazons whose born name is “Jean Thompson” and who has a crazy twinkle in their eye that says, “If you stick your peen in me, we’ll be tied together forever and ever.” But instead of banning Jean, Norwegian officials are letting her into their country and letting her bury Casey in Oslo. Jean wrote in her letter to officials that she has Norwegian roots and is planning to move to Norway by the end of this year. Jean also claimed in her letter that Casey wanted to be buried in Norway, because he “always said that Norway symbolizes peace and looks like heaven.” Jean just wants to fulfill his wishes.
Miley Cyrus said goodbye to her Alaskan Klee Kai Floyd back in April, and ever since then she has worked tirelessly to find new and more creative ways to make sure the leg-humping legacy of Floyd lives on. The most recent way she’s chosen to honor his memory is with a five-foot-tall light-up bong covered in bracelets, beads, flowers, dinosaurs, ribbons, crap, shit, trash, garbage, crap, crap, and more crap. There is so much crap on this bong. Floyd must have been a next-level hoarder.
Even though it looks like every piece of plastic crap from here to Pluto has been used to decorate Floyd’s memorial bong, Miley says it’s not quite finished yet. But the cooter-popping hillbilly chipmunk princess was so proud of her “werk in progress” that she decided to post several pics to Instagram yesterday regardless of how unfinished it was. Miley says that Floyd’s memorial bong has been a collaboration between her fans, who have made her bracelets that spell out messages like YUCK, WEED, TWERK, and DRUGZ. Josh Groban just got really nervous, because he knows that funeral homes everywhere just threw out all their Josh Groban CDs and replaced them with a bong that says DRUGZ. Nothing is more comforting during a moment of quiet reflection than a bong that says DRUGZ.
If only we knew what Floyd thought of his memorial bong. I know he’d be glad Miley is still smoking obscene amounts of drugs (that’s a given) but I feel like he might turn his nose up at how crafternoon delight it is. That bong looks like Hobby Lobby barfed on a Christian Bible Camp. There are SO MANY DAMN BEADS. Plus there’s not a single sticker with a picture of a stoned cartoon alien holding a joint saying “Take me to your dealer”. Come on Miley, it’s not a crap-covered bong without a weed alien!
It turns out that the $1 million worth of Birkin bags and jewels that a thief stole from a Texas millionaire’s 3,000 square foot, three-story closet are worth about $10 and a $50 off coupon to a back alley plastic surgeon who specializes in implanting Sour Patch worms into lips. After a thief broke into Theresa Roemer’s trove of treasures while she and her husband were having dinner at their country club, she cried out Botox tears while telling reporters that the thief stole jewels and precious family heirlooms including a lock of hair from her son who died in a car accident. Well, the thief who stole that stuff is crying too, because they wasted their time by breaking into Theresa’s Houston mansion. A person claiming to be the thief called up The Houston Press and said that the jewels and bags they stole from Theresa’s closet are as fake and fraudulent as her lips, face and hair.
Cook book author and expert-level gold digger Jessica Seinfeld (yes the woman who left her husband of four months for Jerry Seinfeld. Get that Kramer cash, bitch!) pretty much told us really all we need to know about Jessica Seinfeld when she posted a picture of her best fwend Gwyneth Paltrow to Instagram on Sunday with the following caption (WARNING: Toxic levels of celebrity ass-kissing ahead):
“I have never met anyone with more true and loyal best friends than this baby girl. She is deeply and intensely loved by her friends. I hope each of you has someone in your life that is a wise and steady North Star like this one is to so many…Why not tag those people in your life who kill it in the friendship department? It’s Show Appreciation Sunday. (I made that up).”
Sorry, did I say ass-kissing? I meant hardcore salad tossing. Jessica Seinfeld’s tongue was so deep in Gwyneth’s goop-chute, she could practically taste the cold-brewed bluefin tuna tear tea in her stomach. That was some Journey To The Center Of Goop’s Massive Ego shit.
Seriously though, how much did Gwynnie have to pay her to say that? Jessica’s got a tight wallet-humping game, so you know that bitch didn’t come cheap. I bet the breakdown of services went a little something like this:
Gold Package: Alluding to friend, friends, and/or friendship ($1700 for each mention, plus unlimited access to the spa at Castle Goopskull)
Platinum Package: Sounding sincere (2 boxes imported cashmere tampons, 1 endangered white tiger facial)
Whatever Is More Expensive Than Platinum Package: Use of any of the following words – kind, true, loyal, down-to-earth, plus referring to you as “baby girl” ($5000 per word, a wig made of your hair, and Tracy Anderson)
But it doesn’t really matter what she said, because I kept getting distracted by Jessica Seinfeld’s hair! It looked like a gnarly wave just begging me to Photoshop a little surfer hanging ten inside it:
In case you’ve been trapped in an actual block of ice for thousands of years and scientists barely just chiseled you out, let me explain a couple of things to you: Celebrities are humans that a lot of strangers know of (I know, it’s a weird concept) and most of them have been taking an icy load to the head in the name of charity (and in some cases, in the name of promoting themselves). The Ice Bucket Challenge has raised over $15 million for The Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosix Association, which is a good thing, but I still don’t understand that shit.
On the Today show last week, someone challenged Hoda Kotb to the Ice Bucket Challenge and she spent a good 3 minutes deciding whether or not she wanted to get doused with ice water or donate money to charity. Unless your heart is made of ice, why would you have to think about it? Why wouldn’t you just say, “Keep the ice and hand me my checkbook.” It’s not like the challenge is to choose between an ice shower or watching the first 5 seconds of a Nickelback video. I know it’s to raise awareness for ALS and most celebrities also donate to the charity, but the entire concept still makes no sense to me.
Besides, think of all the water they’re wasting IN THIS DROUGHT (which is the new “IN THIS ECONOMY”). On the news in California, they keep telling us that the state is drier than a grandma mummy’s puss and we’re in the middle of the worst drought of all droughts. Yet, here’s all these celebwhores wasting water. If celebrities want to do the Ice Bucket Challenge, they should be forced to do it in California so we can all lick the water off of their bodies afterward. (I’m talking to you, Idris Elba, Alexander Skarsgard, Carrot Top and Prince Hot Ginge. I’m not talking to you, Charlie Sheen, because gonorrhea water will do my body bad.)
Better yet, they should swap out the Ice Bucket Challenge for the Oil Bucket Challenge and every ho who does it should have to do it naked. Now that is a challenge I can get behind. I challenge you, Idris, ASkars, Carrot Top, PHG and the hot cashier at the garden department of the Home Depot by my house.
Meanwhile at the Scientology Centre, they’ve raised $35 million for themselves by doing the Cum Bucket Challenge and you know where most of that money came from.
Above is Chris Pratt doing his take of the Ice Bucket Challenge and after the cut are approximately 5,000 celebrities doing the Ice Bukkake Challenge (that sounds like Nicole Kidman’s wet dream) and that’s only 1/1000th of the celebrities who’ve done it. Warning: Prepare yourselves, because ahead of you is Lena Dunham looking like CJ from Baywatch in the Little Critter world, twink ass and Rob Ford.
Robert Pattinson Says Acting Is Hard And That He Prepares For Auditions By Throwing Up And Punching Himself In The Face
During an interview to promote his new film The Rover, Robert Pattinson – the Twihard-hating Vampire trillionaire and Kristen Stewart’s former partner in greasy-haired scowling – told The Guardian (via Celebitchy) that whenever he gets a call from his agent informing him he has an audition, he turns into a neurotic mess who CAN NOT DEAL, and knows that it’s only a matter of time before he turns into the swoon-worthy British version of Regan MacNeil from The Exorcist:
“I just can’t … I literally can’t do it. It’s just me looking uncomfortable, trying to put on an American accent … or sitting in the corner, making myself throw up and punching myself in the face.” What helps get him past the neuroses, what happens after those excruciating 45 minutes that helps him perform. “Just that you think that someone actually believes you can do something,” he says. “That makes me sound like such an idiot. It’s crazy.”
RPattz also went on to say that it’s not just the auditioning that makes him want to crawl into the fetal position on the floor and weep tears of barf from his mouth-hole and pull a Moonstuck-style “Snap out of it!” slap on himself; sometimes he struggles even after he gets the job. Like during the filming of the career-defining Teen Choice Award-nominated film series Twilight:
“I think Twilight’s probably the hardest part I’ve done, because to do it for five movies, it’s really hard to think of stuff that’s maybe not boring. Especially if you don’t die. Because what’s the drama? You’re not scared of anything! And that’s the whole essence of drama: life and death.”
Calm the fuck down, RPattz; it was Twilight. All that was required of him, acting-wise, was to stand there and stare vacantly into the vacant eyes of Kristen Stewart, the vacant confused face of Taylor Lautner, and the confusing wiglet attached to Peter Facinelli’s head. Although I do partially agree with him that Twilight was probably his most difficult acting role; I’m sure even the finest of Juilliard-trained actors would have had great difficulty acting like they weren’t totally embarrassed to say shit like: “No measure of time with you will be enough, but let’s start with forever.”
“Hmmm, I really want to give my baby a name that sounds like the name of a scented body glitter marketed exclusively to aspiring strippers and was later pulled off of the shelves after the 2 people who bought it for 50 cents at a T.J. Maxx got a serious rash after using it” is what Xtina said to herself while thinking up names for her first daughter.
Last night, Xtina tweeted the name of her second kid and she didn’t disappoint. Xtina gave her first kid the boring ass, generic name Max, so I was really hoping she’d give her daughter a name that makes everyone say, “Did you name her after the scent of Febreze you were huffing while brainstorming baby names?” Xtina and Matt Rutler gave their kid (ha, I’m acting like he had a say!) the first name “Summer,” which isn’t weird at all. We’ve all known a Summer and every Summer I knew in school said “kewl beanz” way too much, only wore scoop neck t-shirts and brought her lunch in a small Victoria’s Secret shopping bag. The name “Summer” is normal, but throw in “Rain” after it and it suddenly becomes a work of elegance:
SUMMER RAIN! That’s one way for Xtina to out herself as a fan of the Phoenix kids.
The beauty of “Summer Rain” is that it sounds like so many things. It sounds like the name of a discount vagina spray that The Dollar Tree produced itself to compete with Summer’s Eve. It sounds like the name of a third-rate young adult romance novel that was written by Nicholas Sparks’ gardener and was turned into a movie starring Zendaya Coleman and one of the Sprouse twins. It sounds like the name of a Whitesnake rock ballad from the 80s that a Tampa, FL stripper named herself after. It’s perfect!
And “Summer Rain Rutler” sounds like something Scooby-Doo would say on an August day after he left his doghouse without an umbrella and a raindrop fell on his nose. “Summer rain, ruh roh!”
Yes, that’s Crazy Eyes from Orange Is The New Black after winning the award for “Outstanding Guest Actress in a Comedy Series”, which means there is a God, and he too probably binge-watched the second season back in June like the rest of us (“Hi, you’ve reached God. I can’t take your prayer right now because I’m watching OITNB, but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m done.”)
On Saturday night, the Creative Arts Emmys were given out at the Nokia Theatre in Los Angeles, and in case you’re not totally familiar, the Creative Arts Emmy Awards are sort of like the Cindy Brady to the Primetime Emmy Awards’s Marcia (which would make Jan the messy shit-show that is the Daytime Emmy Awards ). They air a week before the Primetime Emmys and they give out awards for technical shit like editing and…uh…editing? Maybe microphone holding? But they also give out awards for guest actors and reality show hosts and stuff. Basically, THE LEFTOVERS. On the plus side, it’s always filled with the hottest of the hot: Uzo Aduba! Allison Janney! Bob Newhart! What’s the opposite word for “basic bitches”?
Other people who took home pointy-winged gold yoga ball-holding angel statues were Jane Lynch for hosting Hollywood Game Night, Allison Janney for her guest spot on Masters of Sex, Joseph Gordon-Levitt for (inhale) “Outstanding Creative Achievement in Interactive Media in the Category of Social TV Experience” for his online show HitRecord On TV, and Harry Shearer for his voice work on The Simpsons. That’s right, the voice of Principal Skinner/Mr. Burns/Smithers/Flanders/Lenny/Otto/Reverend Lovejoy has NEVER won an Emmy before; the world truly is a fucked-up place. The complete list of winners can be found here.
And here’s everyone wearing fancy dresses and suits in million-degree weather at the Creative Arts Emmys on Saturday night, including Laverne Cox (who does Beyoncé better than Beyoncé ever has. YES I SAID IT. Come at me, Bumblebeys, I ain’t scared!), and Derek Hough looking like Earring Magic Ken all dressed up.
Hot Buns, the tool that gives you hot buns in more ways than one.
I’ve seen ladies put their hair in a bun while holding a baby, their purse, talking on their phone and standing on one leg while putting their shit on that conveyer belt thing while waiting in the cashier line at Target. So I don’t think they need a ridiculous, dumb, stupid, useless ass tool to help them put their hair in a bun and that’s exactly what the Hot Buns styling tool is for. But really, we all know that the Hot Buns styling tool wasn’t made to make it easier for long-haired hos to put their hair in a bun (Side note: That bun on the box looks like a cronut. I want to eat it). The creators of Hot Buns made that mess, because they know that what everyone really needs in this world is another product that makes us all stop and say: “That’s a dildo!”
Hot Buns comes in two sizes: average and a fully soft Hammaconda, and it’s also ribbed for your hair’s pleasure.
That shit doesn’t even make a good dildo, because a) It looks like it’s made of the skin of Cabbage Patch Dolls and that’s just a whole new level of not right and; b) No amount of Oxi could scrub out the stains that would rub on that thing while you tried to use it as a butt dildo.
Because the Hot Buns soft butt dildo is the hot new must-have hair product, it’s been featured on the biggest shows in television. Here’s a clip from a local morning show in Grand Rapids, MI that’s been making the rounds. This one is for the blondes!
Oh for HEAVEN’S SAKE, put it in the bowl! Uh huh, I bet she wants to put it in the bowl.
Pic: Elle Sees
Christian Slater (45)
Frances Bean Cobain (22)
Andy Samberg (36)
Malcolm-Jamal Warner (44)
Edward Norton (45)
Bob Harper (49)
Craig Bierko (50)
Eddie Santiago (53)
Bob Woodruff (53)
Madeleine Stowe (56)
Denis Leary (57)
Carole Bouquet (57)
Elayne Boosler (62)
Martin Mull (71)
Robert Redford (78)
Roman Polanski (81)
Rosalynn Carter (87)