Cate Blanchett was at the Tony Awards in NYC last night, because she’s making her Broadway debut later this year in a show that isn’t Hamilton. (I know, why are other shows even bothering?) Judging by that butchered-up look on Cate Blanchett’s body, I’m guessing that she was also there, because she knew that most thi-turr people play it safe by wearing the most boring dress at Lord & Taylor, so she needed to give the public something that’ll hurt their eyeballs and make their retinas curl. Thank you, Cate!
It was very nice of Betsey Johnson to remove her name from the nominees list, and therefore give people like Beyonce a fighting chance at taking home the CFDA’s Fashion Icon award. I’m assuming that’s what happened. Betsey Johnson has always been my favorite fashion weirdo. Even when I was very little and my knowledge of fashion was limited to skorts and whatever the look is called when you loop the bottom of a t-shirt through the neck hole, I knew that she was the definition of effortless, carefree WTF style. Effortless, because she always looks like she put in zero effort. Carefree, because I’m sure she’s free of cares when it comes to what anybody thinks about her. And WTF, because I still cannot figure out what the fuck is going on with those glue-in hair extension.
Betsey brought her carefree WTF style to the CFDA Awards last night. Betsey Johnson gave everyone “getting-her-groove-back grandma” mixed with Janice the Muppet and a side of boxed wine buzz. She’s on vacation from all her worries and troubles and the collection agency that won’t stop calling and demanding payment for that pesky overdue TJ Maxx credit card bill, and she doesn’t care who knows it! Betsey looks like she’s about to climb over the bar at her all-inclusive Mexican resort, grab a bottle of rum and a handful of limes, and smoker-bark over to her friends Buffy, Bambi, and Binky: “See you in the pool!” I want to be this version of Betsey Johnson when I grow up.
Of course, there always has to be a runner-up in the Pageant of Life, and I choose to give that honor to Selma Blair.
When two sources “confirmed” that Kerry Washington had another baby growing in her belly yesterday, I made a joke that Kerry would confirm it herself by posing on the red carpet of the Met Gala with her hand placed on her stomach. And last night Kerry Washington hit the Met Gala red carpet with her hand on her stomach. Although I almost didn’t notice that hand because I was too distracted by that purple hair. Mon Dieu (splashes self with holy water), that hair! I am so conflicted. It’s not permanent (Instagram tells me that those are extensions), so that’s good. It sort of looks like the kind of fake hair you’d find on the floor of the Rock of Love Bus, which makes me want to pour myself a hot mug of penicillin. On the other hand, it looks like it was found on the floor of the Rock of Love Bus, which means it’s 100% pure fake hair perfection.
I’ve known some pregnant people, and one thing I’ve gleaned is that sometimes being knocked up makes you do some crazy things. Case in point: the gorgeous black lace boudoir ensemble Kerry is wearing. I feel like non-knocked up Kerry wouldn’t wear that. But knocked up Kerry? Sure! The more black lace the better. Or maybe this is Kerry’s way of paying tribute to Prince. If Prince designed maternity clothes, I’m almost positive that’s what he’d make.
Kerry didn’t exactly do much with the technology theme, but there were a few people who tried. Let’s start with Demi Lovato.
Not pictured: Volunteers from UNICEF who are standing by with jugs and waiting for Salma Hayek’s suffocating tits to explode so they can collect her miracle chichi leche and feed it to dozens of starving orphans.
Last night in London, Salma Hayek went to something called The Evening Standard Theatre Awards and I bet that the people who went to that event couldn’t even tell you who won awards or what happened. The only thing they remember is Salma Hayek’s squeezed honeydew titty sacks. Salma Hayek’s magnificent chichis will make a ho forget everything.
Thanks to that ugly clown collar, Salma’s tits look like two face-less babies in bonnets sleeping next to each other. They also look like overfilled water balloons lying on a table and the next time I’m at a family party and see overfilled water balloons lying on a table, I’ll have to resist the urge to motorboat them.
And here’s more pictures of Salma Hayek’s TITS as well as pictures of Keith Urban, Nicole Kidman, Kate Beckinsale and Ralph Fine-ass looking like the most charming flasher ever.
I may swear off the bong (never) if Tim Gunn keeps at it, because his shady tidbits about his arch rival Anna Wintour hug my soul and take me to happy places. If Tim Gunn dropped daily nuggets about the hilariously bitchy ways of Anna Wintour, the makers of every anti-depressant would go out of business. This is our Prozac. This is better than a damn puppy video.
It says everything when soulless grand dame of the Death Eaters, Anna Wintour, would rather pay attention to a human child than pay attention to the ~fashuns~ in front of her. To Anna Wintour, North West is like a cat at a boring party. She’s so happy that child is there to distract her from the dumb, boring shit going on around her. Mark this day as the first day in history when Anna Wintour is happy to see a child she isn’t about to suck the life out of.
Kanye West wasn’t supposed to butt squirt out his latest collection of overpriced post-apocalyptic rags for Adidas during New York Fashion Week, but since his throbbing pus-filled ego will deflate if he doesn’t take every opportunity to get as much attention as possible, he decided at the last-minute to do a show. Two designers who were scheduled to show at the same time Kanye suddenly decided to show weren’t happy, because they knew he would overshadow them. One designer decided to show anyway and the other rescheduled.
I don’t know why those designers are bitching. They need to shut the hell up and be thankful that his highness Kanye allowed them to show at Fashion Week in the first place. I mean, New York Fashion Week may as well be called New York Kanye Week since Kanye IS Fashion. Besides, I doubt those designers’ collections are as innovative, forward and avant-garde as what Kanye queefed out. And of course I mean the opposite of that since this year’s collection was as bland and basic as last year’s.
— adidas (@adidas) September 16, 2015
They all look like sad used condoms.
Kanye’s kollection for Adidas is perfect for rich bitches who want to waste a lot of money to look like a malnourished desert hobo on the planet Tatooine or like a Walking Dead zombie who teaches aerobics. But what do I know about fasihon? How can I judge Kanye’s genius designs when I’m sitting here wearing a droopy tank top and baggy beige sweatshorts. Oh, wait…
Beyonce and that wet look…. It’s like parsley on an entree. Nobody wants it or asks for it, but she’s going to keep giving it to you.
Beyonce took one of her wigs, ran it under the faucet, flopped it on her head and said to Mario Testino, “Take my picture like this, bitch, and watch Anna Wintour STILL put it on the September cover even though I look like I just got out of the shower.” Now every hopelessly devoted member of the BeyHive is going to dip their hands into the jar of cooking grease their abuelita keeps under the kitchen sink and smear it all over their hair so they too can look like a wet Lhasa Apso is lounging on their head.
Never mind that Beyonce looks uncomfortable on that cover and like she’s got itchy butt and can’t wait to soothe it by rubbing up against that chair, Vogue released quotes from her cover profile and none of them came from her mouth. Who knows if she was even interviewed? I’d like to think that she wasn’t. Why would Beyonce strain her jaw muscles by talking about herself when some of her disciples can do the talking for her? They laid it on thicker than that leave-in conditioner on Beyonce’s hair:
“The word diva is used for so many female performers, and it often means they have reputations for being difficult, but she exudes charm and a lovable quality.” – Marc Jacobs
Beyoncé is a powerhouse. She can sneer. She can out-strut and stare down any man in the film frame. Call her, in the songs, She Who Must Be Obeyed—in the palace, in the bedroom, in the hood, on the road, and on the runway.
“Her appeal crosses art forms, genders, and generations.” — Stella McCartney
Beyonce’s going to save a lot of money on lotion made out of blended unicorn placenta, because Vogue kept her ass moisturized by licking every inch of it several times.
Vogue also released a HIGH ART video from the shoot that looks like the kind of warped VHS tape footage that plays during an episode of 48 Hours about a high-profile murder case:
Beyonce IS killing the BumbleBeys with this shoot, I’m sure, so that video is fitting.
Almost three years ago, human jewel Tim Curry had a major stroke that left him in a bad way. Since then, humanity has been asking “Where the hell is Tim Curry to show these bitches how it’s really done?” and I think I asked that question out loud while watching Christopher Walken in NBC’s Peter Pan Live! Tim Curry has been laying low and recovering with the help of physical therapy. At last night’s Actors Fund Tony Awards Viewing Party in Los Angeles, Tim Curry rolled onto the red carpet to receive a lifetime achievement award for his contributions to making ass lips pucker by swishing, swaying and serving pure talent in Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Worst Witch, etc… etc…
Tim, who’s my favorite age (69), still has to use a wheelchair to get around, but he told Los Angeles Magazine during an interview about his lifetime achievement award from the Actors Fund that he’s doing okay.
Since your stroke you have made limited public appearances. How are you doing and are you looking forward to the Actors Fund event?
I’m doing well and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve done a few benefits for the Actors Fund and I think it’s a marvelous organization. I hope not to have to use it.
How important is your sense of humor to you?
Vital. Absolutely vital. It’s not tough to maintain. It is just part of my DNA.
When I woke up this morning, I saw all these headlines about how Tim Curry was honored at the Tonys. I drunkenly watched every single second of the Tonys (because as a gay dude who once lived in NYC I like to play a game of “Oh Shit, My Friend Totally Blew That One Chorus Boy In A Gay Bar Bathroom” while watching it) and I didn’t remember Tim Curry showing up at all. I almost looked up information for the nearest AA group, because I obviously have a problem if booze ate my memory of seeing a legend like Tim Curry at the Tonys. But after injecting coffee directly into my brain, I realized he was at a Tony viewing party. Tim should’ve been at the actual Tonys, though. They should’ve cut that ship wreck of a Finding Neverland performance and let Tim sing a Rocky Horror/Annie/The Worst Witch/Spamalot medley as he descended from above in his wheelchair. That’s what the Tonys needed.
Here’s a few more pictures of Tim Curry at the Actors Fund Tony Viewing Party. I also threw in a million pictures from the actual Tonys of Bernadette Peters, Chita Rivera and other Broadway legends like Gigi Hadid, Ashley Greene and that model who got naked in a Robin Thicke video.
During a recent interview with TIME, bottled water’s closest living relative Blake Lively admitted that maybe she doesn’t love her artisanal faded online shopping website Preserve.us as much as she could. It’s probably a good thing clothing can’t express human emotions, otherwise that dress Blake is wearing above (that she “co-designed” for Preserve) might realize how disappointed she is in it and start bawling its seams off.
According to Blake, Anna Wintour wanted the launch of Preserve to coincide with the August 2014 issue of Vogue. And since Blake wants to appear on the cover of Vogue 7,392 more times, she sort of rushed to make sure Anna got what Anna wanted.
“The things that keep me up are things I look at on the site and I know could be better. I knew this was supposed to be better. Time and money, time and money. What I wanted Preserve to be at launch was not what it is at all. It’s just impossible! We found ourselves at launch and we had a Vogue cover set up, so I couldn’t call Anna Wintour and say ‘I need six more months’—people hacked into our site a week and a half before it was meant to launch, so the site leaked. The site’s not close to what I want it to be. I hope by the time it’s what I want it to be, my standards will be raised infinitely more.”
She also added: “If I had my dream, I’d put it on hold for six months or a year and then relaunch it.” Somewhere in the gold-plated offices of GOOP.com, Gwyneth Paltrow just popped a bottle of organic sparkling pressed French air and hollered at everyone to “Get in here in celebrate with me – Goopy’s in a good mood today.”
How rude of Anna Wintour to rush the launch of Preserve. Doesn’t she realize the time it takes to source the perfect hand-carved Antebellum-era decorative walking sticks, partially-rusted vintage typewriter keys, and hand-picked sun-faded lavender sprigs for a casually imperfect harvest table floral arrangement? I mean, a curated collection of repurposed saddle leather hair ties don’t photograph and Instagram filter themselves, you know.
I can only imagine the disappointed thoughts Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen are telepathically communicating to each other as they watch people walk the Met Gala red carpet. If had to guess, it was probably something along these lines:
“So much nude illusion fabric. And the sequins – so many sequins. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I too am feeling ill, sister. Fetch me a fainting squirrel, I shall need to lie down.”
The Met Gala really isn’t the Met Gala until fashion’s creepiest pocket goths make an appearance. I was excited to see if they would wear something in keeping with the theme, but of course they didn’t. DUH! Mary Kate and Ashley showed up in the same floor-length body-swallowing black sadness sacks they always wear. I’m sure there’s a high-fashion word for whatever they’re wearing, but I’m scared I can’t afford to even look it up online. Whatever they’re wearing, I’m sure it’s very expensive and was made from the finest of endangered spider hairs and antique mourning lace.
Or maybe they’re dressed all in black as a not-so-subtle “You are DEAD to us” message to John Stamos.
And here’s what feels like everyone else from last night, but is really just 1/98th of the people there. Fucking everyone went to that Met Gala. I bet the rats behind Guy Fieri’s restaurant got dressed up in little rat-sized tuxedos and went too. Anyway, most were pretty boring, but some people brought it. AnnE Hathaway looked like a shimmery tapeworm, Dakota Johnson looked like the backsplash tile model from a home improvement show, and Anna Wintour looked like a street corner sign waver mascot for an opium den (don’t worry, I barely know what that means either).