A week before the Oscars, the producers said that Andrew Garfield was going to make a very special appearance and induct a new superhero into the fraternity of superheroes. They said it was going to be a very moving segment. I took that to mean that they were going to move us all to a higher place by announcing that Courtney Stodden is going to star in the long-awaited Dazzler movie! But no, apparently Batkid was supposed to be the new superhero that Spider-Man was supposed to welcome to the superhero club. In case you just woke up from a long coma or you try to keep your black, molten heart intact by staying away from sweet news about children, Batkid is Miles Scott, a 5-year-old boy with cancer whose Make-A-Wish came true when parts of San Francisco were shut down so that he could live like Batman for a day. Batkid became a viral superstar and he was the reason why millions of hearts liquefied and melted out of orifices.
The Batkid Oscars segment was written, the sets were built and Batkid was at rehearsals on Saturday. But on Oscar morning, the producers told Batkid’s mom that they were cutting the segment. Batkid’s mom told IB Times that they weren’t really given a reason as to why Batkid’s Oscar dreams were stomped on.
“I don’t know if they ran out of time, or if there was something about the segment they didn’t like it. It got pulled so quickly that we didn’t have a lot of insight into what was going on. It is kind of a disappointment, but things happen. I know that’s how TV goes and how Hollywood is. We’re just not used to that; we’re from a really small town.”
Batkid didn’t go to the Oscars, but the producers gave him something better: a trip to Disneyland.
Andrew Garfield wasn’t at the Oscars and Radar said that a “personal matter” is the reason why he canceled on that shit. But Page Six says that the real reason why Andrew wasn’t at the Oscars is because he hates Batkid! Sort of. Some source (probably Doctor Octopus) told Page Six that Andrew was at rehearsals with Batkid on Saturday, but he wasn’t into the lines they wrote for him. He came up with his own lines, but the producers didn’t like them, so he quit that bitch and gave a kid with cancer the sads.
“Garfield refused to go by the script. He came up with his own lines. The producers felt that Garfield’s [rewrites] were not appropriate. Garfield had a tantrum. He stormed off. Miles and his family, who were at the rehearsal, were devastated.Garfield was such a spoiled brat that he didn’t even want to be a presenter.”
Not much makes sense about that story. If Andrew Garfield really is a child-hating demon who agreed to do the Batkid segment and then dropped out at the last minute, why wouldn’t the producers get Thor or Captain America or Batman to do it? Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans and Christian Bale were all there. I was going to suggest Anne Hathaway as Catwoman, but then all of you would think that I was the one who hates Batkid. That kid doesn’t deserve that.
Besides if Andrew Garfield really bailed out on a kid with cancer, Pimp Mama Kris would walk into the middle of Sunset Blvd, paint a pentagram in goat’s blood, lie down in the middle of it and clutch Andrew Garfield’s headshot while proclaiming him as her new satanic overlord.
UPDATE: A rep for the Academy says that Andrew didn’t ruin the Batkid segment. The producers are the ones who shredded Batkid’s Oscar hopes by cutting it from the show.
“Due to the nature of a live show, hard decisions sometimes must be made which require the Academy to cut segments due to the logistics of production. Andrew Garfield understood that his segment had to be omitted, and he drove to Disneyland on Monday to spend time with 5-year-old Miles Scott (Batkid) and his family.”
Usually Christina Hendricks uses scaffolding, two tire jacks and five rolls of duct tape to hike her magnificent chichis all the way past her face until they’re touching her eyebrows. But at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party last night, her Mount Everest titty balls weren’t suffocating and they weren’t touching God’s feet and hos probably said to her, “So that’s what your face looks like, bitch!”
Christina Hendricks’ chichi domes look magnificent when they’re squeezed up to the roof of heaven or when they look like two extra large mounds of uncooked sourdough cooling on a rack (see: above), but what in Mrs. Roper’s cleaning dress HELL is that on her body?! When I was in the 4th grade, I had a friend whose mom didn’t have money to buy her a Halloween costume, so I helped her make a witch costume using a nun’s gown I wore the year before (yes, I was a nun for Halloween in the 3rd grade, don’t ask how much shit I got for that), a black curtain panel from Ikea and black construction paper. My friend’s costume cost zero dollars, was busted as fuck and was made by two brats whose hands were shaking from eating too much candy and it still looked more luxurious and fashion forward than that shit Christina wore. That dress looks like something Endora would wear to the funeral of a whore she hated. It looks like something from the American Horror Story: Coven collection at Dress Barn.
With all that being said, Christina Hendricks, hausfrau in mourning dress and all, was still the hottest look at that VF party (no, it wasn’t), because mostly everybody else (just Kate Beckinsale) looked like the last place loser at the Miss Bolivia 1993 pageant.
If you happened to be anywhere on the east coast last night and caught yourself around 4:30pm with a strange ringing sound in your ears and a feeling as though someone had shotgunned the holy spirit into your lungs, you’re not alone. That sound you heard was trumpets heralding the arrival of St Angie onto the Oscar’s red carpet, followed by a choir of angels singing “Step aside 5s, two glittery 10s are coming through.” And that light-headed feeling you got was from the drop in air pressure after God saw that Brad Pitt actually combed his hair and collapsed in shock.
Since the Academy Awards ceremony is really just a prom for insanely famous millionaires, the only thing that matters is who wins Prom King and Queen (Best Actor and Actress) and what you’re wearing. But in the event it’s a year that Angelina Jolie graces the Oscars with her holy presence, you’re fucked, because you’re just going to end up looking like a pile of damp laundry in comparison to The Most Merciful.
Even though Angelina could show up wearing a trashy bikini cover-up and Brangeloonies would still openly weep at her feet, she arrived all glowwy, like an elegant chandelier that had just absolved the sins of humanity. Each bead and crystal looks like it represents a tear from every soul she’s saved. And immediately after she walked the red carpet, Zahara was forced to field calls from every interior decorator in Heaven. “I dunno Sebastien, I’d consider selling you a handful of crystals from the left sleeve, but they’re not going to sparkle like they do on my mom.”
Here’s more of Brangelina posing to their internal monologue of the Hallelujah chorus, along with everyone else. Sorry, everyone else; better luck next time.
Four years ago, Kelly Osbourne won a spot in my cold, dark heart (don’t worry, there’s a pile of blankets and a space heater) when she hissed the word butterface in Lady Gaga’s general direction, and their capital B bitch-feud was born. For years they’ve been going back and forth hurling insults like rotten pieces of cake (with one of the insults, quite literally, being a cake), but sadly both bitches went soft and decided to pack their insults away in the attic. NOOOOOOOO! Won’t somebody PLEASE think of the passive-aggressive cakes??
According to Radar, the acrylic nail glue version of the Hatfield-McCoy feud finally came to an end last night at Elton John’s annual Oscar viewing party. Kelly proved to the world that her and Lady Gaga had each extended the other a pastel fiberglass olive branch by Instagramming a pic of herself playfully choking Gaga with the caption: #peace at last. I know; I too was hoping that peace at last was a reference to her trying to choke out any future songs from Gaga’s vocal cords.
I’m not thrilled that Kelly has buried the hatchet with Gaga (I know, how dare I insult Hatchet Face like that) because I think it speaks very very poorly of her sanity and judgement, but sometimes you just gotta say Fuck It and re-route your energy into hating more important things…like the person responsible for going so heavy on the Photoshop that they ended up making you look like Kim Kardashian dry fucked Dame Edna.
Here’s more of Kelly at Elton John’s 22nd Annual AIDS Foundation Academy Awards Viewing/After Party looking like if Betty Draper had an eccentric sister from Baltimore who’s best friend is a poodle named Cha-Cha, as well as Lady Gaga at both the Oscars and the Vanity Fair after party. Say Something Nice: the lace on Gaga’s wig is a very hard worker.
…as Jared Leto snatches the last breath out of your mouth with his spectacular beauty. And I see that Emily from Revenge disguised herself as a PA and is back to her old schemes.
After Jennifer Lawrence stole another piece of America’s heart by busting out a staged, choreographed and manipulative STUNT QUEEN fall on the red carpet at the Oscars yesterday (yes, my name is Michael and I am a Jennifer Lawrence Fall Truther), she lost the Best Supporting Actress Oscar to Lupita Nyong’o and backstage she jokingly tried to steal the trophy. What won’t that shameless white she-devil do for attention?! But really, Jennifer Lawrence was the Jennifer Lawrence-iest last night, but when Lupita won she seemed excited, happy and kind of relieved. Jennifer Lawrence was probably relieved because if she won she was planning to out-do her fall from last year by taking a falling anvil to the head during her speech. When Lupita’s name was announced, Jennifer’s assistant was in the rafters above and said, “phew,” before pulling up that anvil and calling it a day.
And yes, Lupita’s speech was the best:
Even the soulless, emotionless fancy komodo dragon from Neptune that is Benedict Cumberbatch felt feelings and got the weepies in his eyes during Lupita’s speech. They’re starting to FEEL.
Here’s Lupita at the Oscars and also some pictures of her and Jennifer Lawrence at Vanity Fair’s party. No to Lupita’s Claire’s headband and no to Jennifer Lawrence’s hair. Jennifer Lawrence probably figured that Slick Willie would be at one of the parties and he’d never hit on her if she had Hillary Clinton hair. Wise move, JLaw.
I usually hate standing ovations, because standing is hard and requires energy, but those bitches in the audience at the Oscars stood up for U2 yet they didn’t bother pulling their lazy asses out of their seats when living legend Kim Novak came out? Priorities: They ALL need to rethink them. Kim Novak’s filler sister Rose McGowan knows what I’m talking about.
Kim Novak trended on Twitter last night when she presented Best Animated Feature with the Texas T-Rex and her face looked like it was paying homage to the winner Frozen. Kim Novak is 81, she’s bipolar, she fell out of a bell tower twice in Vertigo, she survived breast cancer and suffered nerve damage when she fell off of a horse in 2006, so who cares if she went into some plastic surgeon’s office, pointed at The Jocelyn Wildenstein Puppet Face Special on the menu and said, “Give me that and super size it!” I couldn’t hate on Kim Novak if you told me the plastic in her face was liquefied CROCs. (Okay, I’d hate on her just a little if that was the case.) Kim seemed out of it, but she’s 81 and she still did a better job at presenting than a certain fraudulent bitch in a dead guinea pig wig (JOHN TRAVOLTA!).
Again, Kim Novak is 81! When I’m 81, I won’t be able to talk, walk or even read words on a teleprompter, because I plan to be stoned, drunk, high and all of the above the entire time. Besides, Kim was in Falcon Crest! Anybody who was in Falcon Crest can do no wrong. (Well, except for that piece of trash Lorenzo Lamas. He did wrong by letting go of the best thing that ever happened to him: Shauna Sand!)
I get that it’s probably super overwhelming to hear Katniss Everdeen call your name after opening the fancy Oscar envelope, especially if you’re always two stoned sheets to the wind like Matthew McConaughey, but there’s no excuse for forgetting to thank your loved bongos. They’ve stood by him since the very beginning, encouraging him to JKL (just keep livin’) when the haters in his life were telling him to put on a shirt and get out of the sun before his facial skin turns into a piece of KFC Extra Crispy. Those bongos made you who you are today; a perpetual stoner with a severe shirt allergy who wrapped up his Oscar speech with “Awrite Awrite Awrite”.
I’m going to give the Texas T-Rex the benefit of the doubt on this one, because I’m sure if he had an extra minute of time, he would have no doubt thanked his bongos, the Ziploc bag in his freezer of the good shit, and that claw-thing Camilla gave him for Christmas that helps him reach stuff. But he only had 3 and a half minutes, so he had to make the most of it.
And make the most of it he did! I managed to stay mostly-sober for the 3 hours leading up to Matthew McConaughey’s win for Dallas Buyers Club, but I got so high from his first “Yeahahawww, thank you” that I started begging my IKEA floor lamp to run to Taco Bell and order me 8 Doritos Locos taco stuffed with cinnamon twists. Everything about his speech took me higher: from his impromptu TED Talk on God and the amazing visual of his Ghost Dad drunkenly dancing around a pot of gumbo in his underwear, to thanking his exquisite Texas Topaz mother and getting choked up over his wife. Stay sweet, stay stoned, never change.
Here’s more of a cleaned-up Wooderson with his wife Camilla, who gets two-thumbs-up from me for walking the red carpet in a pink Snuggie. She’s following the one rule I have about fashion: it should be comfortable enough to easily accommodate a nap.
The Dolby Theater was already an icy tundra last night from all the Botox-induced frozen faces, but temperatures dropped below zero and anuses froze when John Ridley, the screenwriter of 12 Years a Slave won, and didn’t hug or thank the director Steve McQueen. After Penelope Cruz said John Ridley’s name, he got up, kissed his date and threw 12 layers of shade at Steve McQueen when he walked on by and hugged David O. Russell instead. John Ridley had no hugs, hand shakes or head nods to give to Steve McQueen. It was like watching one bitchy 12th grade mean girl (played by John Ridley) win Homecoming Queen over her rival (played by Steve McQueen). I love all of it. It was Real Housewives of the Oscars!
During John Ridley’s speech, Steve McQueen’s name didn’t come out of his mouth once. When John sashayed off the stage, they cut to Steve McQueen doing a shady bitch fake clap in the audience. Defamer got a GIF of it and it is glorious. He looks like a bitchy walrus.
That is the eye roll of claps. Shady McQueen is trying hard to not make a sound for that bitch. Kenya Moore from The Real Housewives of Atlanta just pulled up a seat in the front row and is taking notes, because this is how shadiness is dispersed. You probably figured that Steve McQueen and John Ridley are fighting because the former wore the tux the latter was planning to wear to the Oscars, but Nikki Finke tweeted that it has to do with a writing credit.
My sources attributing John Ridley-Steve McQueen cold shoulder at Oscars tonight to dispute over screenplay credit.
— Nikki Finke (@NikkiFinke) March 3, 2014
And I’m sure that after 12 Years a Slave won Best Picture, they were all backstage and as Shady McQueen and John Ridley threw each other bitch looks, Brad Pitt pulled a joint of his hair, passed it around and said, “Can’t we all just get along?”
Goddamn it, Pharrell, stop trying to make the penis hat happen, it’s not going to happen; nobody wants to voluntarily look like the throbbing head of Dudley Do-Right’s dick. Well, except maybe John Travolta. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about that hat that really speaks to me.”
The second before Pharrell Williams stepped out from behind those creepy Oscar statue ghosts, I knew there was a 100% chance he’d be wearing that goofy Vivienne Westwood hat, because that hat is his best pal and he never goes anywhere without it. They’re like a modern-day Milo and Otis. Pharrell and his hat will be the best of friends until the sad day that the hat starts to get old and loses its shape, and it’s sent to live with a nice family on a farm upstate somewhere.
But I felt sort of bad for Pharrell’s dick head hat last night during the performance of Despicable Me 2’s “Happy”. That high-fashion felt penis hat looked so out of place in what was essentially a long-lost Gap commercial. You could sort of tell the minute the first dancer in pastel khakis popped out, the hat started anxiously thinking: “Fuck, I knew I should have come dressed as a straw fedora.”
And here’s more of a sans-chapeau Pharrell and his wife, Helen Lasichanh, looking like they’re fighting over who get’s to play the Buster Bluth part of their Motherboy XXX cosplay:
If you were like me, then you probably didn’t pay close attention to Idina Menzel’s performance of “Let It Go” at the Oscars last night because you were still slow clapping at Miss John Travolta trying to quiet down those rumors that he loves a little massage therapist peen on his tongue by mispronouncing Idina Menzel’s name. What kind of self-respecting musical theater queen fucks up the name of a Broadway star? I see you, Jorn Tromolto. Some people keep saying that we all need to stop, because John Travolta has Dyslexia. I’m pretty sure they’re confusing him with the other Scientology sweetheart Tommy Girl who would never screw up Idina Menzel’s name. The halls of the Scientology Celebrity Centre were filled with the gasps of the boys in the bath house who couldn’t believe that their grand dame committed an illegal gay act by mispronouncing a Broadway diva’s name and the forest was filled with the cries of the guinea pigs whose family members were killed to make John Travolta’s wig.
Even though John put her name through the shredder, Idina went on to perform, but something seemed off. She looked nervous and jittery and it seemed like she couldn’t wait to get out of there. She acted like John Travolta every time Kelly Preston got naked during the Scientology turkey baster ceremony to conceive one of their kids.
Someone on Facebook said that the music was too fast and Idina was obviously pissed about it at the end of her performance. Hmmm, I see what’s going on here. Travolta messed up her name and then the music plays too fast. That wig-torturing, Bonne Bell foundation-wearing evil bitch tried to sabotage Adele Dazeem! John Travolta is probably a crazed Chenoweth fangirl. Figures…