After pushing out some truly stinky made-for-tv dookies recently (yes, I’m looking at all of you, but mostly The Brittany Murphy Story), Lifetime has finally made something that won’t be a giant pile of embarrassment. I know, they had such a high bar to clear after Grumpy Cat’s Worst Christmas Ever.

According to The Hollywood Reporter, Will Ferrell and Kristen Wiig have made a movie together for Lifetime called A Deadly Adoption, a dramatic thriller about a successful couple who let a pregnant woman live in their house in hopes that she’ll give them her baby. Obviously Will Ferrell and Kristen Wiig play the couple, and the pregnant woman is played by 90210’s Jessica Lowndes.

The two-hour movie, which was filmed in secret a little while ago, has been described as “campy and fun and a contemporary wink at the genre” and will air sometime in the summer. Will Ferrell is apparently a huge fan of Lifetime movies and has wanted to make a fake Lifetime movie for a while, and A Deadly Adoption will coincide with the 25th anniversary of Lifetime’s TV movie business.

Well, that’s just about the best damn news I’ve heard all week. The only way A Deadly Adoption could get any better is if the small town police officer (it’s always in a small town and there’s always a police officer) who just knows something’s not right about Will and Kristen’s characters was played by Lifetime legend Valerie Bertinelli and the fetus in the ultrasound picture was played by Tori Spelling.

UPDATE from Michael: Will Ferrell tells Deadline that they’ve decided to scrap it and not air it, because it was supposed to be on the SHUSH and they’re sad that it was made public. The Internet ruined it all! But The Wrap says that isn’t so. They think that Will’s statement to Deadline might be a ploy to trick everyone. The future masterpiece will still air, apparently. Okay, well if it’s not a ploy and they really are scrapping plans to air it, can Lifetime please show the classic Maternal Instincts starring Delta Burke in its place?

Here’s the lock for Best Actress in a TV Move at the 2016 Emmys strolling through LAX last week. Is it just me, or is Kristen Wiig giving off funhouse mirror Ashlee Simpson vibes?

Pics: Splash

Feel free to make a “giant feet” joke here. During a recent interview with Yahoo! Style, legendary summer-eyed tramp and current aspiring iTunes jockey Paris Hilton was asked about her former assistant and current filler enthusiast Kim Kardashian, specifically if she feels in any way responsible for unleashing Kim and her horrible family upon humanity. Ok, technically the question was if she thought her career paved the way for Kim’s and what she thought about the idea that the Kardashians would not exist if it weren’t for Paris Hilton. But let’s be honest – that’s just the churched up version of what I said.

Rather than listening to her conscience, which was no doubt screaming “YOU OWE THE WORLD AN APOLOGY!” into her ear, Paris answered:

“We’ve known each other since we were little girls. We’ve always been friends. It’s nice to inspire people. So yeah, I’m really proud of her and what she’s done.”

I don’t know if Paris Hilton’s single working brain cell is smart enough to know how to throw shade, but something about that “It’s nice to inspire people” line made me put away my SPF and grab a sweater. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but that sounded like Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery‘s cuntier sister.

Paris also said some shit about her future baby (literally every one of her ovums just started trembling with fear that they might be chosen for the real life Hunger Games that is growing into a baby that would have to call Paris Hilton “Mom”) and that she wants to name it London, regardless of whether it’s a boy or a girl. First Lindsay Lohan, now this? Poor London. What did London ever do to deserve being associated with such trash?

Speaking of Paris Hilton’s former fame whore apprentice, here’s Kim taking her kid to the movies last week. I love that every time we see North West, it looks like she’s scanning the area for an escape route. “Eh, none this time. Rats.”

Pics: Wenn.com

All the way back in the olden days of 2013, Mia Farrow casually said in a Vanity Fair profile that it’s possible that her son Ronan Farrow was made with Frank Sinatra’s blue-eyed jizz fish. Ronan joked about it, but never denied it and who can blame him? If Woody Allen was your father, you would want everyone to think that anyone and anything (examples: a fly nibbling on a roadkill carcass, a cut-short turd out of a hyena’s ass, KFed) except for Woody Allen could be your dad. Frank Sinatra’s widow wasn’t buying it and publicly shat on that rumor. Now almost two years later, Frank Sinatra’s youngest child Tina Sinatra is saying that it’s impossible for Ronan Farrow to be her half-brother. Maury Povich just shuffled off to a corner and melted into a mound of woe, because he’s always wanted to say the words “Frank Sinatra IS the father.”

Continue reading

After almost four years together, the Madewell version of Robsten (I’m sure my inbox is filling up with “Subject: YOU SKANK BITCH” emails courtesy of those last few die-hard Twihards for that one) might be calling it quits. According to Star (via Hollywood Life), 26-year-old Emma Stone and 31-year-old Andrew Garfield are taking a break from each other. I know, if Spider Man and Spider Man’s girlfriend can’t make it work, what hope do the rest of us have?

Even though they seemed like a match made in pap-shaming heaven, a source (a gossipy mouse that lives in Andrew Garfield’s beard) says they’ve been drifting apart for a while now. The source also says that when Andrew blamed being a no-show at the Golden Globes and the Oscars on filming, he was being a lie-telling liar:

“Yes, Andrew was filming but he could have gotten away if he really wanted to. The fact was, neither one of them wanted to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was OK when it wasn’t.”

Currently they’re “taking some time apart to figure things out”, but anyone who has ever tried going on a break knows that a “break” is usually the fart that leads to a dump, so we’ll see what happens. In the mean time, you might want to set up a makeshift prayer shrine using a bunch of red headed Blythe dolls and a Garfield candle (everyone has one of those, right?) just in case. I mean, any excuse to pull out that exquisite Garfield candle, right?

I’ll wait here as you sprinkle ice water on your piping hot b-hole which is probably throbbing after looking at those frosted tips in Jeremy Renner’s hair.

Hawkeye and his wife of approximately forty five seconds (10 months to be exact) Sonni Pacheco can put their earrings back on, take off all their rings and wipe the Vaseline off of their mugs, because their custody throw down is over. Jeremy and Sonni’s custody tussle never got to Halle Berry and Gabriel Aubry levels of crazy, but his “roommate” did accuse her of being a drunk, shitty mom who did coke on vacation once (“Once? What is she a nun?” – White Oprah) and she said Jeremy’s house was a baby death trap of horrors because he didn’t lock up his guns and didn’t have a gate around his pool. Jeremy’s “roommate” (Side note: Every time I type “Jeremy’s roommate,” I picture myself whispering it into the ear of a gossiping old lady during church service in the 50s) also claimed in court papers that Sonni threatened to expose “intimate videos” of Jeremy if he didn’t give her what she wants.

Those “intimate videos” won’t grace our eyeballs anytime soon, because those wrecks have settled their fight. People says that Jeremy must pay her $13,000 a month in child support. Their daughter Ava will spend half of the time at her mom’s house and the other half at Hawkeye’s lair. Sonni and Jeremy signed a prenup when they got married so she gets a whole lot of nothing in spousal support. Sonni wanted the prenup voided due to “fraud,” but that didn’t happen.

TMZ says that during the hearing yesterday, Sonni’s lawyer Mark Vincent Kaplan said they had more issues to settle, to which Jeremy’s lawyer Laura Wasser rolled her eyes at before the judge dismissed the case completely.

The extremely reliable and totally accurate accounting website called Celebrity Net Worth says that Jeremy Renner’s net worth is $35 million and he’s probably going to make another mountain of money from Avengers: Age of Ultron. So I’m disgusted that he’s only giving Sonni a measly $156,000 a year for child support! $156,000 won’t even get her an entry application into the Gold Digger Hall of Fame. Sonni deserved a lot more, because I’m sure she had to put up with a lot of shit like Tom Cruise calling at all hours of the day and night pretending to be a laundromat clerk and asking her to send him bags of Jeremy’s dirty chonies.

And I’m sure the “intimate video” that Sonni had was of Hawkeye making out and cuddling with a silicone mold of JLo’s tits, because he’s that heterosexual and he loves JLo tits that much.

Yes, its been a full year since Gwyneth Paltrow strapped herself to a Snob’s Choice™ imported rocket and blasted herself into the stratosphere of better-than-you smugness, aka the time she announced she was “conscious uncoupling” – not divorcing, because divorce is for trashy poors who make less than $20 million a year – from Chris Martin. And to celebrate such a milestone, Page Six says they hopped aboard a luxury steel air yacht (Goopy doesn’t do pedestrian shit like airplanes) and flew down to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with their kids.

Although something tells me Gwyneth wouldn’t call it an “anniversary”. Anniversary is too common. I’m sure when Gwyneth called up the $10,000 a night resort in Mexico to book their vacation and they asked “Are you celebrating anything special this week, Ms. Paltrow?“, she replied “As a matter of fact, yes. We’re acknowledging the spiritual maturity through enlightened choices that took place during the 584 million miles the Earth orbited around the Sun. Please ensure our room contains a bottle of organic kelp-filtered Champagne-style essence and make the towels look like two swans kissing.”

I think the person I feel the worst for has got to be the bartender working their swim-up bar. Imagine waking up every morning for a whole week knowing you’re about to spend the day making hand-pressed (at the request of the guest) cocktails and that you’ll be tipped in $200 white t-shirts.

Not to mention I’m sure they had to listen to her tell the story of conscious uncoupling at least ten times a day. “It’s so crazy! We’re totally best friends! We are like such such good friends now! Have I mentioned that we’re still best friends? Hey, where are you going? I need another vodka and lime leaf!“