Vivienne Jolie-Pitt Had To Be In Maleficent Because She Was The Only Kid Who Wasn’t Scared Of St. Angie’s Ass
At the Oscars next year, Jared Leto will stroll out onto the stage, flip his luscious mane and he won’t have to open the envelope to announce the winner of Best Supporting Actress, because he’ll know and we’ll all know it will be Vivienne Jolie-Pitt. She’ll crawl onto the stage, burp, scratch her head and drag her trophy away while everyone gives her a standing ovation and loses their minds. And Vivi didn’t even have to try to get that role. All she had to do was be born out of the right chocha and not scream for her Godfather (who is actually God) when seeing her mom in full costume.
In Entertainment Weekly’s cover story about Maleficent, St. Angie Jolie says that one of the chosen ones had to play Young Aurora, because all of the little girls they auditioned ran away after seeing her looking like the evil ghost of a malnourished ram. Even Pax wanted to hold a crucifix up to her when he saw her:
“When Pax saw me for the first time, he ran away and got upset — and I thought he was kidding, so I was pretending to chase him until I actually found him crying. I had to take off pieces [of the makeup] in front of him to show him it was all fake and not freak out so much.
We think it’s fun for our kids to have cameos and join us on set, but not to be actors. That’s not our goal for Brad and I at all. But the other 3- and 4-year-old [performers] wouldn’t come near me. It had to be a child that liked me and wasn’t afraid of my horns and my eyes and my claws. So it had to be Viv.”
In the wise words of The Mighty O, let’s cut the bullshit, St. Angie. There are many 3-year-olds who will run toward St. Angie, because they’d want her ass to adopt them so they can shop at every toy store in the damn world, eat McDonald’s all the time and inhale the weed-induced breath that comes out of Brad Pitt’s mouth. St. Angie made the producers cast Vivi, because she wanted the extra check (not really). Dragging 10,000 kids around the world ain’t cheap.
And of course Brad and St. Angie don’t want their kids to go into acting. That ruins their plan of raising a child army who will one day take over the world and make all of us their slaves. We should just surrender now and get it over with.
— Ellen DeGeneres (@TheEllenShow) March 3, 2014
If you woke up after a long coma and saw all those Veneers and soul-sucking eyes looking at you, you’d probably fall back into a coma and be happy about it. During the 52-hour-long circle jerk extravaganza that is the Oscars, Ellen DeGeneres took a group selfie with Jennifer Lawrence, Meryl Streep, Channing Tater (I think), Julia Roberts, Kevin Spacey, Brad Pitt, Bradley Cooper, Lupita Nyong’o, St. Angie Jolie, Lupita’s brother and some other hos. Ellen asked everyone to re-tweet it and apparently it broke Twitter for a second. And seeing Kevin Spacey make the O face he’d make if he was hitting it from the back broke my soul for a minute.
Well, I guess Maddox is the head hair stylist of the holy family now and I also guess that Brad Pitt let his son style his mop yesterday and told him, “Give me strung out punk anarchist chic!”
At the Independent Spirit Awards yesterday, Brad Pitt (who’s a producer on 12 Years a Slave, which won Best Picture) showed up looking like he spent the last 12 hours barfing up his internal organs and his will to live in a toilet in a non-air conditioned and not-at-all-well-ventilated crack house bathroom after smoking the wrong kind of crack. Those are the crack sweats! It’s very Trainspotting: The Golden Years. Brad Pitt looks like Robert DeNiro’s Taxi Driver character fell on really, really hard times and got a job as a roadie for Guttermouth.
With all that being said, this IS the look. But only because those wrinkles, that blotchy redness, the greasiness and those white hairs remind me of Anderson Cooper’s nustack and I’m so into that.
Here’s more of Brad’s fucked up hair and St. Angie Jolie wearing Endora’s favorite funeral dress yesterday. St. Angie should do Brad a favor and use her razor ass jaw bone to shave that memaw muff off of his chin.
Doesn’t it seem like it was only yesterday when the year was 2008 and we were all 6 years younger and my bloated gut was 3 inches smaller and Maddox was just a 7-year-old boy who was really into knives and faux hawks? And now here’s 12-year-old Maddox walking through LAX with Brad Pitt and St. Angie Jolie while wearing a Slipknot hoody and a look that says, “Don’t EVEN fucking…” That’s just regular old 12-year-old face. I know that face. I’ve made that face and I’ve seen that face at family gatherings. I have this 12 or 13 or 14-year-old cousin who never talks to anyone and if you’re not an app in her iPhone, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. I’ll see her at family things and when I say hi to her, she’ll just roll both of her eyes at me. Since I’m a 12-year-old bitchy mean girl trapped in the body of a skinny fat gay, I can play that game and I roll my eyes back at her. Then she rolls her eyes back at me and then I roll my eyes back at her and we keep doing that until my tia calls for an am-boo-lance, because she thinks we’re both having a stroke. We look like we’re rolling on ecstasy at a no-dance rave.
So, anyway, here’s Maddox, St. Angie and Brad Pitt (wearing the only daytime casual outfit he owns) walking through LAX yesterday. I don’t know where the rest of the child army is, but I’m guessing they’re hiding in St. Angie’s huge ass bag.
At the BAFTA Awards (or “The First And Only Annual American Hustle Appreciation Awards” as we should call it since that mess is winning everything) in London tonight, the crowd parted as the holiest couple since Mary and Joseph sashayed through in matching tuxedos. Just like a power bottom’s b-hole after a busy weekend, I’m sort of torn about St. Angie Jolie’s look.
On one hand, I’m into it, because it gave me lukewarm shades of the greatest cinematic event of 1986 My Chauffeur and Shiloh probably styled her and at least she gave her fame whoring leg the night off. But on the other hand, she kind of looks like a malnourished and parched lemur lounge singer and the part of me that didn’t get My Chauffeur vibes got zombie Lady CaCa in Born This Way vibes and I never want to think about zombie Lady CaCa in Born This Way.
But on a more positive note, I am starting to sort of kind of like the bow-tie shaped grandma pube patch on Brad’s chin.
SAINTS: They’re not just like us!
When you and your piece go to Red Lobster for a romantic surf, turf and Cheddar Bay Biscuits dinner, dozens of your adoring fans are not waiting for you outside to take your picture, shake your hand and breathe in the blessed air you breathe out.
When St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt go to Shipwreck Bar and Grill in Airlie Beach, Queensland, their devoted disciples wait for them to arrive and cheer for them like it’s a goddamn red carpet premiere or some shit.
St. Angie is still directing that Unbroken movie in Australia and on Tuesday night she and Brad Pitt left the child army at home to eat seafood at a restaurant. (Well, he ate seafood and she sniffed the fish bones and licked on a bowl of popped fish eyeballs.) Worshipers of the Australian branch of the Church of Brangelina must’ve followed the beam of light from St. Angie’s halo to the Shipwreck Bar and Grill, because they were there when St. Angie and Brad arrived. St. Angie and Brad shook hands and waved at their fans. The last time I saw a Sméagol stretch his arm out like that, he was reaching for the One Ring and it wasn’t a pretty scene. But this time, a saintly Sméagol reached out her arm to bless a young child. When St. Angie (aka the real Supreme) touched that girl’s hand, she sucked out that girl’s youth and innocence and stored it in her signature forehead vein. That girl doesn’t care, because she was touched by true holy greatness.
The last trailer for Disney’s Maleficent was a pile of shit and it made it look like that mess of a movie was pasted together using leftover scenes from Slow White and the Huntsman and that CGI bukkake called Alice in Wonderalnd. The newest trailer, which was shat up during the Grammys last night, still looks Slow White’s CGI backwash, but it doesn’t look as much of a piece of trash as it did before. It’s obvious that St. Angie Jolie’s serious cheekbones steal the movie and they should get top billing. Those cheekbones could cut a whore up. Either they vacuum sealed St. Angie’s face some more so her natural cheekbones really popped or they made a rubber replica of Phoebe Price’s chicken cutlet cheeks and pasted them on St. Angie’s face. If Maleficent wanted to toss your salad, you’d have to wear armored panties with a hole cut out over your no-no or she’d slice your nalgas right up with those shankified cheekbones of her. In this version, Aurora probably pricks her finger on Maleficent’s cheekbones instead of on a spinning wheel’s spindle.
The new trailer also has Lana Del Rey’s cover of “Once Upon a Dream.” It’s typical Lana. She sounds like she’s singing it while lying in a hot bath after downing a bottle of red wine and a couple Lunestas. Maleficent probably skips the whole spindle thing and puts that Aurora trick to sleep by playing her this song.
If your ears can take the sound of Elle Fanning’s butchered-slaughtered-disemboweled-and-drowned-in-water British accent, then watch the newest trailer for the St. Angie Jolie biopic called Maleficent. Part of my already charred soul shriveled up a little while watching this, because it looks like a shitty, mid-budget trailer for a failed ABC pilot called Once Upon A Time In St. Angie’s Cheekbones. The other part of my already charred soul shriveled all the way up while watching this, because I don’t want to see the softer side of Maleficent. Fuck that all the way. I like my Maleficent straight up cunty with zero drops of niceness. I should’ve known this trailer wasn’t going to sit on my soul right when St. Angie popped up wearing Lady CaCa’s leftover face horns from the Born This Way “era.”
And here’s Brad Pitt working Maddox’s old haircut and wearing a vintage Oak Tree black linen suit while strolling through LAX.
lady caca born this way
The Daily Mirror says Brangie’s holy child army will have a budget they need to stick to during their hourly visits to the goddamn toy store, because St. Angie Jolie dropped a huge chunk of cash on a very special birthday present for Brad Pitt. Normal hos buy their a piece a bottle of butt lube (in scent: new car smell) for their birthday, but millionaire saints buy their piece a whole damn island.
The Mirror says that St. Angie bought the 11-acre Petra Island, which is about 50 miles off the coast of NYC. The name “Frank Lloyd Wright” makes Brad Pitt squirt and get all fangirly, so she pulled out $20 million from her pocket book when she found out that the island has two Lloyd Wrights on it. One house was built in 1950 and the main house was built in 2008 from one of Lloyd Wright’s plans. Some source said:
“As soon as Angelina heard the island was on the market she arranged a viewing. She was really impressed. The house is perfect for romantic getaways or as a family retreat. It’s very private. And Angelina knows the fact the island is in the shape of a heart will mean so much to him. The fact he could now live in a house designed by one of his idols will make this his best birthday present ever.”
But the daughter of the current owners tell E! that Petra Island isn’t going to become Brangelina Island anytime soon, because St. Angie didn’t buy it and it’s still for sale.
If St. Angie did buy that island, I see what she’s doing. They already have a compound in Los Angeles, a vineyard in France and now they might have their eyes on a huge island in New York. It’s obvious what’s going on here. They’re setting up camps and bases around the world for when the child army expands and finally takes over. It’s a good thing that Petra Island wouldn’t last that long if St. Angie did buy it for Brad. Because as soon as he sees it from above and realizes that it kind of looks like a giant floating weed bud, he’s going to smoke the entire thing up one tree leaf at a time.
In case you didn’t know that Vivienne Jolie-Pitt, a child saint, can work a pair of sunglasses better than all of us, adults (HAHA, I know that was a good one, me calling us adults), here’s Vivienne Jolie-Pitt working a pair of sunglasses better than all of us. Even that plastic ginger Muppet thing looks impressed at her effortless J. Crew catalog posing skills.
St. Angie took a break from directing her movie Unbroken while dressed like a secretary at Robichaux Academy to take the chosen ones to buys toys and watch them eat at a restaurant in Sydney called Grandpa’s Moustache (which sounds like a To Catch A Predator-themed restaurant or like a boy band full of pepaws) yesterday. I swear, the holy family is single-handedly saving the toy industry! They buy toys as often as Rob Ford buys crack. Every time they leave the house, they go to a toy store, scream “I’ll take EVERYTHING” while throwing down a bag of gold and then they go home and play with all their new toys for about five seconds before getting bored and giving their used toys to Brad Pitt to smoke up.
Allison wrote about how Christmas is probably going to be canceled this year since there’s no “it toy.” Well, since one of the chosen ones was papped carrying a doll in a white tank top, that doll in a tank top IS the it toy of the season. Vivi Jolie-Pitt saved Christmas! And if you’re keeping track of the adventures of St. Angie’s bulging forehead vein of doom, take note that it picked up and moved to the west side of her forehead for Australian Spring.