I had two major thoughts while looking at this picture of Kristen Stewart at the Chanel Paris Fashion Week show. Yes, two – my brain was working extra hard this morning for some reason:
1. What the hell even is that smile supposed to be? It looks like KStew is trying to pull a Side Eyeing Chloe (the key word here being trying; KStew can never reach the level of flawless toothy DILLIGAF glamour of Chloe).
2. What picture of Blossom-era Joey Lawrence did Kristen Stewart bring in to her stylist? Was it this one? What am I saying, OF COURSE it was that one.
Kristen Stewart dyed her hair the same color as recalled tainted baby food for the movie American Ultra, but there’s no word on why she decided to go one step further up the fug ladder by chopping it all off. I’m guessing it’s also for a movie, and that movie is a biopic of Burnie, the Miami Heat mascot. Judging by how busted that hair is, combined with the fact that KStew’s acting range is limited to various shades of boredom, I’m guessing KStew plays Bernie during his awkward teen years. I smell an Oscaaaaaar!
And my say something nice is this: I always wondered what it would look like if early-Twlight Robert Pattinson moved out to the country, dyed his hair with some flea market Feria, married a drywall installer named Darryl and started hosted Passion Parties from the garage. And now I know! Thanks Kristen!
Here’s more of Kristen at the Chanel show wearing some shitty genie pants and $10 white pumps. Real talk – she looks like a dollar store Jasmine doll I had as a kid, and that’s all I’ll say about that. Also in attendance was Phil Collins daughter, the chick from the vampire show, Kaa from The Jungle Book wearing an Anna Wintour wig, and Jesus’s coke-dealing stepbrother Jared Leto.
Yesterday, model Emma Appleton tweeted a screenshot of a skeezy Facebook message that she claims came from the creeper who looks like he regularly hears the words, “Sir, jacking off on the women’s panties in the lingerie department will not be tolerated. Put your leaky dick away and please leave,” from a department store security guard. Emma alleged that he offered to shoot her for Vogue if she fucked him. Terry’s spokeswhore spit out a lukewarm stream of denials and accused Emma of faking it for attention. American Vogue also responded to that mess and in a vague statement, which they gave to The Wrap, they said that they haven’t hired Uncle Terry since 2010 and they’re not looking to work with him anytime soon.
“The last assignment Terry Richardson had for US Vogue appeared in the July 2010 issue and we have no plans to work with him in the future.”
Vogue is VAGUE. I’m not sure if Vogue is shading Uncle Terry or shading Emma or a little of both. In that Facebook message, Uncle Terry doesn’t specify which Vogue, so it could be Vogue Neverland or Vogue North Korea for all we know. But I wouldn’t put it past American Vogue. I mean, they put two dried cum stains stuck to a pair of dirty chonies on the cover, so Anna Wintour is devoid of shame.
Illustration: AleXsandro Palombo
Immediately after I read those words in Mindy Kaling’s Vogue interview, I ran around my house collecting all the candles I could, assembled a makeshift shrine out of a picture of Indigo from Rainbow Brite, an old DVD containing 6 burned episodes of The Office, a half-empty can of Diet Coke, a very empty bag of Doritos, and prayed that Anna Wintour hasn’t yet read the part of her interview where she dares to speak the six most offensive words one could ever say in the pages of Vogue. Bravery, thy name is Mindy Kaling:
“There’s a whole list of things I would probably change about myself. For example, I’m always trying to lose fifteen pounds. But I never need to be skinny. I don’t want to be skinny. I’m constantly in a state of self-improvement.”
Or maybe Anna has read it, but hasn’t yet had time to mark Mindy for death because she’s been too busy hanging out with Remus and Romulus. Then again, maybe reading the words “lose fifteen pounds” was enough to keep Mindy in her good graces. After all, Anna Wintour’s definition of ‘skinny’ is probably a picture of a sick science class skeleton (which would define “thin” as a healthy 80-90lbs, and “slim” as teetering on the edge of obese). There’s a good chance she read ‘I don’t want to be skinny’ and lovingly hissed: “Of course not, my dear! The goal isn’t skinny; it’s slenderly gaunt.”
Regardless, just to be safe, I’ll be thumbing a rosary for her all night (ew, not like that).
And they would have had all 4, but Kris Jenner wasn’t able to reschedule her appointment with Satan (it’s tax time and he’s suuuuper busy). So it was just a greasum threesome between frightening lifelike praying mantis Anna Wintour, human basket of kittens Kanye West, and the heavily-sedated slow-roasted turkey leg know as Kim Kardashian. Anna, Kanye, and Kim all went out to celebrate successfully pulling off the world’s most elaborate and rotten April Fool’s prank by going out for dinner and bathing in the blood of a sacrificial ram slaughtered beneath the pits of Hell. I’m just speculating, of course; I didn’t actually see them eating dinner.
Some of you may be looking at Kim and wondering what in the name of The Sock One would posses someone to go out for a fancy dinner in nothing but her underwear and a dining room table runner. It’s just Kim’s way of reminding everyone that just because her kurdled milk ass has graced the cover of a high-class magazine like Vogue, she’s still the same old hooker-looking call girl you know and love. For more information regarding pricing and services, please contact Pimp Mama Kris at 1-800-KIMPIMP.
Here’s more of the Triad of Terror out for dinner last night. I’m having trouble trying to figure out exactly what color Kim’s sausage casing is, because it’s not quite green and it’s not quite brown. Hideous taupe? Is hideous taupe a color? Rotten tuna caught in a net of trash? Hold on, let me get out my 64 box of Crayolas…
Supermodel, proud mega bitch and gold medal-winning BlackBerry-thrower Naomi Campbell was on Australia’s The Morning Show today and since she’s been on the cover of US Vogue before, she was asked for her thoughts on the cover that will soon grace the bottom of thousands of birds cages. If you’re Nan from American Horror Story: Coven and can read minds, you’d probably hear a tornado of fuck words forming in Naomi’s head as she turns on her filter. You can see the words, “Fuck Kanye! Fuck Kim! Fuck Anna! Fuck Vogue!,” form in Naomi’s brain and after they pass through her filter, she says, “I do not want to comment.” And then she let out a blood-freezing, bitchified villainess cackle that’d even make Lucifer’s fluffer Pimp Mama Kris run for cover. Here’s Kylie and Naomi’s little conversation about the “Nail in the Coffin” issue of Vogue.
Kylie: What do you think of Kim and Kanye’s US Vogue cover, given that you have been on the cover yourself countless times?
Naomi: I do not want to comment.
Naomi: Bahahahahahahahhahaaa…. Because I am a fashion model and I’ve been working for 28 years. When you get a Vogue cover, it’s a build in your career, it’s a stepping stone to achieve that. I’m a fashion model, so what more can I say?
Kylie: So you think that Kim and Kanye haven’t earned the right to be on the cover of Vogue?
Naomi: Those are YOUR words. I’m being politically correct. That’s Anna Wintour’s choice to put them on the cover of her magazine. Who’s to question it?
Kylie: Well, I just did.
Naomi’s only response should’ve been this:
Yes, Naomi, snatch the stubble off of Kanye’s bald head with that cackle. Yes, Naomi, yank Kim’s hair until her hairline is on a missing poster next to your hairline. That GIF should really be filed as the official response to that cover.
And in case you didn’t hear it the first time or the second time, Naomi is A. FASHION. MODEL. A. FASHION. MODEL. So she knows!
Anna Wintour took a little time away from editing the May issue of Vogue with Courtney Stodden on the cover (I WISH!!!) to release her editor’s note explaining why she decided to put a soulless, hallowed out, talentless wax mannequin with the personality of popped bubble wrap on the April cover. Anna could’ve just said, “Um, I put Blake NotSoLively on the cover of Vogue TWICE, so putting soulless mannequins on the cover is sort of my thing as of late,” and we’d all be like, okay, okay, you’re right. But instead, the head madam of the Death Eaters spewed out some lukewarm shit about how Kim Kartrashian and Kanye West are currently the sheer definition of influential. Methinks Anna hasn’t been getting her usual supply of virgin’s blood and her brain isn’t operating at its fullest, because I’m pretty sure she’s mixing up “influential” and “influenza.” Here’s a piece of her note:
“Part of the pleasure of editing Vogue, one that lies in a long tradition of this magazine, is being able to feature those who define the culture at any given moment, who stir things up, whose presence in the world shapes the way it looks and influences the way we see it. I think we can all agree on the fact that that role is currently being played by Kim and Kanye to a T. (Or perhaps that should be to a K?)
As for the cover, my opinion is that it is both charming and touching, and it was, I should add, entirely our idea to do it; you may have read that Kanye begged me to put his fiancee on Vogue’s cover. He did nothing of the sort. The gossip might make better reading, but the simple fact of the matter is that it isn’t true.”
Death Eater, please. Here are the 4 reasons why Anna Wintour did it:
1. Every time she’d open her closet to pull out another $3,000 dress to wear, Kanye would pop out and scream, “PUTKIMONVOGUE!” Every time she opened up the door to the basement that’s full of the blood slaves she feeds from, Kanye would pop out and scream, “PUTKIMONVOGUE!” It screwed with her appetite, so she finally gave in.
2. Even though she’s a die-hard Death Eater, putting Kim on the cover gives her bonus points with the Illuminati.
3. Anna is a future-seer and knew that Buffy the Vampire Slayer would hate this. Buffy has killed a few of Anna’s kind, so this is payback.
4. She knows that shit will sell. Pimp Mama Kris will buy at least 200,000 copies to wallpaper the outside of her whore house headquarters with. And every medical professional will use the cover to treat patients with constipation. One look at Kim on the cover of Vogue and BOOM the runs.
Here’s Vogue’s newest
darling dingle going camera shopping while wearing a dress that a Midwestern, pregnant high school senior wore to her prom in 1968. The hell is she doing with her hands? Did someone ask her how wide her vag is or is she trying to make the Illuminati sign. Bitch can’t even make the Illuminati sign right.
And now Anna Wintour has officially officially entered the “fuck it” phase of her reign at Vogue. It really happened. Lazy amateur porn star turned fame whore of all fame whores Kim Kartrashian is on the cover the magazine that Pimp Mama Kris is going to roll up, lube up and fuck herself with until the end of time. I guess Kanye West threatened to release incriminating pictures of Anna Wintour buying fake UGGs from Walmart (or swallowing something other than virgin’s blood), because that’s the only reason I can come up with for this happening. That cover looks like the cover of a catalog from a David’s Bridal franchise in the 9th Circle of HELL. But I do love how Kanye’s hands are keeping a safe distance from Kim’s kooch. Of course, Kim is never going to stop barfing and queefing at the mouth about this and she immediately twatted about it. Newsflash, whore, you haven’t breathed for at least a couple of years since your body has been suffocating in a cocoon of Spanx.
Vogue also shat up a behind-the-scenes video which North West makes a cameo in. This is probably the fourth time (I’m being genius) that North has seen her parents in person. If that isn’t a “Harpo, who deez people?” look, I don’t know what is.
And Posh Beckham was just put on suicide watch.
Not pictured: Kunty Karl barking at his human to take as many pictures as possible so he can run back to the Death Eaters’ lair and cackle about this with his kind.
At the Valentino show in Paris yesterday, Anna Wintour, who normally makes a question mark with her face when you say the words, “second row,” or, “larger than a size double zero,” sat behind the first row. I didn’t think that moment would ever happen in real-life. Seeing Anna Wintour sitting in a row other than the first row tells me that anything in life is possible. Maybe I will actually publish a post that doesn’t have at least 2 fucks up in it! Maybe Lindsay Lohan will actually cut the bullshit! Maybe John Travolta will actually say Idina Menzel’s name right and wear a wig that doesn’t look like roadkill! Anything is possible!
But in a shocking twist, Anna wanted to sit in the second row. Christina Binkley of the Wall Street Journal, who Instagrammed that picture, says that Anna took her ass to the second row when the first row got too crowded. BryanBoy (via The Cut) added that Anna let Vogue’s editors sit in the front row and she gladly sat in the second. Anna’s editors took her up on her offer, to which I say, IDIOTS! It’s kind of like if you went to Outback with Jessica Simpson and she ordered 3 bloomin’ onions to start for the table (there’s only two of you at the table, by the way) and after you’ve eaten 2 together, she tells you to go ahead and have the 3rd one by yourself. She doesn’t want any of it. She’s fine! Whatever she says, don’t do it. IT’S A TRAP! She’ll eventually end up eating it right out of your stomach. So yeah, those Vogue editors are totally going to get it.
Since Anna Wintour sitting in the front row is something that will never happen again, I hope the lady sitting directly in front of her took full advantage of the opportunity by dropping a huge fart. Because when Anna Wintour sits behind you, it’s your duty to lift up your ass cheeks and let a good one go.
And here’s Anna Wintour showing up to Chanel’s messy Supermarket Sweep show yesterday. She sat in the first row, so the world can keep spinning again.
“Why? WHHYYYY? She knew I worked so hard on turning Kim into a fashion icon. I took a lumpy goblin-tramp, power washed off 4 of her 8 layers of skank, and created a sophisticated beauty that makes Grace Kelly look like an damp pile of used diapers. Ricardo, why would she do this to me??” Then Riccardo Tisci softly stroked his head (no comment) and whispered: “There, there. Shhh, don’t cry. It’s not worth crying about, Kanye. There’s always Elle; maybe she’ll get on the cover of Elle?”
Things will no doubt be very awkward at the Kardashian-Jenner dinner table this evening after Kendall Jenner (the nipples one, not the Marla Hooch one) uploaded this picture of her sitting in the front row of the Topshop Unique show with Anna Wintour to Instagram yesterday. Sitting beside Anna Wintour at a fashion show either means you’re going to be on the cover of Vogue, she wanted a snack and chose to eat your soul, or both. But everyone knows that Kendall’s soul was sold to Satan seven years ago, and that if Anna was going to put any of the tacky Kardashian-Jenners on the cover of Vogue, it would be Khloe (to troll the shit out of Kim and Kanye). So let’s just assume it was because the spot beside Anna was reserved for the Death Eater of her choice, but Satan got held up in a meeting, and sent one of his least-offensive minions in his place.
Here’s more of Kendall Jenner and Anna Wintour leaving the Topshop show yesterday, and they each get a Say Something Nice. For a girl who comes from a family with a chronic addiction to too-tight clothes, Kendall looks very nice. And Anna…um…barely looks like a praying mantis? Yeah, that works.
Good news today for all the dentist’s waiting rooms in Hell; according to Jezebel, a “well-placed source” informed them that Vogue was in L.A. yesterday with their widest-angle lenses to shoot Kim Kardashian for a possible magazine cover. Before you get too excited, when I say ‘shoot’, I mean with a camera: not shot with a gun, shot with a load of jizz (“Been there, done that, made a million from it” – Kris Jenner), or shot into space. I know, I’m sorry; take off your party hats and save the noise makers for another day. But keep those fingers crossed!
This is great news for Kanye West, who’s been pestering Anna Wintour to give his My First Dumpy Stepford Ho Doll a Vogue cover for what seems like years now, because Kanye is smart and knows Kim isn’t capable of anything greater than simply letting someone take her picture. And even then, we’re not exactly dealing with a genius. I don’t know who the photographer was, but I have a feeling he spent most of the day saying: “Kim, stay awake honey. You gotta look alive. Kim, can you open your eyes a little more? Kim? You asleep? You need a nap, Kim? Can someone inject Kim with a syringe full of methamphetamine? We need her to look…how do I say this…not like a Botoxed sloth.” And someone should have told the people at Vogue that a photo shoot was completely unnecessary; they could have just Photoshopped a too-tight beige Margiela dress onto a picture of Jen from The Dark Crystal and saved themselves the agony.
I know you’re dyyyying to see what Kim’s Vogue pictures look like, but nothing will be released until Anna Wintour speaks with Kim’s agent, Satan J. Jackal. So until then, here are picture of Kim filming Keeping Up With Kows You Kould Give A Krap About with Khloe, who – I’ll say it – looks great (if you need me, I’ll be getting a CATscan, since I clearly have a brain tumor), and their little sister Marla Hooch (What a hitter!):