As expected, nepotism’s current pride and joy Kendall Jenner graced the cover of Vogue’s biggest issue of the year, the September issue, with her “comatose deer caught in broken headlights” eyes. This is the second time (third if you count that special “millennial” issue) that a member of Pimp Mama Kris’ koven has been on the cover of American Vogue. So I think that’s the men in white coats’ cue to pry Anna Wintour’s tongue out of the Kardashians’ asshole and drag her into a padded room. The room’s padding will be provided by Chanel, of course.
I know this joke has been made a million times (“That’s never stopped you before, bitch” – you), but Vogue should really change its name to Vague, as in I “vaguely” remember when it was a fashion bible and not a fame whore bible.
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.