Outside of a restaurant in Milan the other night, Morgan Freeman just couldn’t contain his desire to kiss and nipple-grab Matthew McConaughey. Git it, pepaw! Git on that bitch as if he was your step-granddaughter!
Down in Anna Wintour’s dungeon this morning, her and Andre Leon Talley are wrapping up a Tim Gunn voodoo doll in poly-blend rayon (to Anna that’s the equivalent of burning him alive) while interns dance around them while holding burning JcPenney catalogs, because Tim is spitting up all their secrets in his new book.
Page Six reports that in Tim’s newest book “Gunn’s Golden Rules“, he writes all about Anna Wintour and Andre Leon Talley’s ridiculous ways. First up is his encounter with Anna Wintour at a fashion show back in 2006:
“I was with a colleague from Parsons, and we had been discussing the will-she-or-won’t-she-take-the-elevator question, so we ran over to the elevator bay to see if Anna would deign to get on. She wasn’t there. Then we looked over the stairway railing. And what did we see but Anna being carried down the stairs. The bodyguards had made a fireman’s lock and were racing her from landing to landing. She was sitting on their crossed arms.
I ran to the window to see if they would put her down on the sidewalk or carry her to the car like that. They carried her to the car. And I thought: I will never for get this.”
The top of Tim’s head looks like Anderson Cooper’s silvery field of nutsack hair, so he would never tell a lie, but something about this story doesn’t make sense to me. There’s no way Anna Wintour would let a pair of peon hands touch her. Even if the pair of hands were wearing gloves made out of leathery skin from Donatella Versace’s inner thighs.
Anna was probably being carried on a throne made of the bones of her past interns while 12-year-old models threw silk Hermes scarves around her. Either that or Andre Leon Talley just stuffed her between his ass cheeks before he walked down the stairs since she weighs about as much as one of Tori Spelling’s kidney stones.
And speaking of ALT, here’s Tim’s little queef on the Priestess of the Pucker:
“When we return to the green room, we see that someone has spread a translucent barber’s bib over Andre and he’s reclining, his arms at his sides. He’s being fed grapes and cubes of cheese one by one, like a bird in a nest.”
And the problem with this is….? ALT’s wrists are much too fragile and precious to handle chocolate covered Double Downs and bacon-wrapped balls of fried mink (you know it wasn’t grapes and cubes of cheese).
That being said, Tim Gunn needs to give us more of this. I would rather him whisper it into my ear as I run my fingers through his platinum follicles, but reading it in a book works for me too.
Chris Klein was thrown into a jail cell last week after he was arrested on suspicion of DUI in L.A.. When Chris gave fellatio to a Breathalyzer, it registered his blood alcohol level as .20. And animal rights groups are also shaking their fists at his ass (sounds sexy, but it ain’t), because Chris’ dog was in the car with him at the time.
In Chris’ defense, his dog was supposed to be his designated driver, but then that bitch got drunk too. Don’t you hate when that happens?
Anyways, Chris’ rep has announced to People that he is drying out at Cirque Lodge in rehab since he’s got nothing else to do. The spokeswhore said this:
“After recent events, Chris was forced to take a clear look at a problem he has been trying to deal with himself for years. He understands now that he can not beat this disease alone.
He thanks everyone for their support as he takes all the necessary steps to deal with his addiction and asks for privacy while doing so.”
Asks for privacy? Why is Chris putting a “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door when nobody was planning to knock anyway? That’s not true. I’m sure Suri knocked and then slipped a Narconon pamphlet under his door. She gets a pair of heels for every new recruit she brings in.
Grease up my face with petro jelly from The Dollar Tree and stick razors in my hair, because Miley Cyrus has gone too far this time. If she wants to go around looking like a slutty crow who will suck a fat flea off a dead pigeon, then that’s a fight for the slutty crows out there. It’s not my fight. But here she is at last night’s MuchMusic Awards in Toronto looking like the suburban white girl who will do whatever it takes to be embraced by the exquisite cholitas in her hood. Even if it means thrusting her crotch in a makeshift strip club in someone’s garage in order to raise bail money for their homeboy Chepe. This is like a drive-by-shooting to my SOUL! A black tattooed tear just appeared below my left eye.
I have a feeling that Miley tried to finish this look by kissing her brows with a Sharpie, but it was a impossible task because every Sharpie got a serious case of cotton mouth when she touched it. They were not going to be a part of this fuckery. The only gang sign I’ve got for this bitch involves my middle finger.
And if that wasn’t hurtful enough, here’s La Beaver Girl’s wannabe cholita look in action. Miley moves around like a roach after getting sprayed with RAID. Just stomp on it with your chankla next time.
Seriously, I feel like I’ve just been jumped. My ear is bleeding like someone just pulled out my gold hoop earrings. And my eyes are swole like someone just punched me with a fist full of gold rings they stole from their abuelita’s jooree box.
And I don’t even know what to say about that mummy hooker leotard she wore in the pictures below. That mess is so tight that you can see her hymen (yes, that was a trick statement).
After Jennifer Aniston has sex with her boyfriend pillow, she cuddles with her after-sex-cigarette pillow. – Maersk
Katherine Heigel poses nude for playboy. – cowgirl007
Britney misunderstood Daddy Spears’ instructions about applying a nicotine patch. – memccauley6
Shaz Riley, the founder of The Butch Clothing Company, a clothing line made for and by butch lezzies.
Shaz of Brighton, England, who is kind of giving me drops of Ricky Gervais fever, says that the idea of The Butch Clothing Company has been sitting in her head for years, because she was so sick of trolling the racks of Men’s Warehouse for clothes that don’t make her boobs pop or give her an air bubble in the crotch (Jon Gosselin feels your pain, Shaz).
Shaz explained to The Guardian, “All those years of having to wear men’s clothes will be behind me now. BCC will make a lot of butch women happy. If they have ever had to put up with negativity from people because of being butch, my clothes will give them the confidence to hold their heads up high. Butches don’t want to be or look like men; we just don’t want to wear female clothing.”
Anything that keeps Rojo Caliente looking sharp as fuck is a gift from the the Home Depot angels in heaven, so I am all about this. And if The Bitch Clothing Company ever puts out a line of chonies, they better beg Rojo to be the body of their ad campaign. That will make David Beckham and every stupid Victoria’s Secret Angel hang up their panties for good.