The day before the Oscars, Natalie Portman let all the nominees know that they didn’t have to worry about her splattering their moment with birth fluids while pushing our her second kid in the aisle of the Dolby Theater in Hollywood. (Although, Moonlight’s moment ended up getting ruined anyway by goddamned Brian The Accountant!) Natalie skipped the Oscars and everyone figured it was because her second child with French ballerina dude, Benjamin Millepied, was just seconds away from pirouetting out of her vagine. But it turns out that Natalie skipped the Oscars because her second bay had already pirouetted out of her vagine and she was in no condition to get into a designer gown and put on a manufactured happy face as Emma Stone won the Best Actress Oscar.
Natalie’s rep released a statement today saying that she birthed out her and French ballerina dude’s second child, a girl, just four days before the Oscars.
“Natalie Portman and her husband Benjamin Millepied welcomed a baby girl, Amalia Millepied, on Feb. 22. Mother and baby are happy and healthy.”
Natalie and Benjamin’s first child, a 5-year-old son, is named Alpeh, so I guess they kept with that AM theme. That’s good she went with Amalia, because Natalie was channeling Jacqueline Kennedy through awards season so much (see: above) that I thought she was going to name the kid either Arabella, Caroline, John Jr. or Patrick. Or worse, she could’ve named her daughter Camalat.
Natalie Portman is at the Venice Film Festival where she’s selling two pieces of Oscar bait: one’s called Planetarium and the other one’s the Jackie Kennedy biopic called Jackee. (Typo and it stays, because I need to put the idea of a Jackée Harry biopic out into the universe.) In the pictures that have come out from Venice, Natalie has been looking a little inflated in the stomach area and some figured that she’s either got some vegan burrito-induced bloat up in there or her ballerino husband’s jizz fish pirouetted into one of her ovary eggs. It’s probably the second one.
The only answer to the question “Who in the hell doesn’t serve cake at their wedding?” has sadly been answered. When Natalie Portman married that French dude who can tickle the air with his pointed feet, she had a strictly vegan menu, she wore an Italian toddler’s communion dress circa 1964 and instead of delicious cake, she served French macarons. Some whores go to weddings to see two hos unite their love in front of God or whatever, but I only go to weddings for the cake (even if the cake is a sheet cake from Sam’s Club) and for the open bar (even if the open bar is a plastic trash can full of ice bags and Coors).
People says that Natalie’s reputation as a snobby leaf-humper of the highest degree remains intact, because she used local wildflowers instead of having flowers flown in and didn’t serve anything that used to have a face on it to her 60 guests, which included Diane Sawyer, Mike Nichols, supposed heroin head Macaulay Culkin, Rashida Jones and Ivanka Trump. And again, she didn’t serve CAAAAAAAAAKE!
I can eat a wooden bowl full of dehydrated baby’s breath covered in kale foam as long as I know I’m getting some kind of delicious cake afterward. Yes, one can try to say that macarons are kind of like the French babies of CAKE, but it’s still not CAKE. I wanna eat the mother! If Natalie Portman ever gets married again and you’re invited to the wedding, make sure to call the local pizza place before the ceremony and tell them to meet you in the parking lot about 10 minutes into the reception. You’ll be the one standing by the rented Dodge, holding the box of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes your ass bought at the nearest gas station.
When I first wrote about Natalie Portman’s wedding, I was going to say that she probably each of her guests a baby tree as a parting gift. I was close, because she gave them a packet of wildflower seeds. WILDFLOWER SEEDS! That way each guest can plant those seeds in their backyard and every time they look at those flowers, they can think of how Natalie’s cake-hating hippie ass drove them to suck down a log of Quarter Pounders smothered in Duncan Hines frosting at 3am in their hotel room. I mean, she didn’t have CAKE! Illegal!
I see you making a smug “My gold digger mission is complete!” face, Benjamin Millepied.
Natalie Portman and her ballerino piece Benjamin Millepied have been wearing wedding rings for months now even though they weren’t married in the legal sense, but they changed all that last night when they said vow stuff to each other under a chuppah (not this Chupa) at somebody’s house in Big Sur, CA. UsWeekly says they got married at around 8pm in the dark, but don’t ask them for anymore details, because they don’t have any right now. Even though no other details are known at this time, we can pretty much assume that Natalie’s vows included some quote from a philosopher none of us know and in lieu of gifts the bride and groom asked guests to plant a tree or broaden their minds by buying and reading a book on a subject that is foreign to them. NO JOKE. One of my friends went to a smart people wedding and the bride and groom didn’t want gifts, but they did want their guests to read a book and then to tell them about that book at the reception. Fuck that shit. I’m getting you a blender, bitch. This ain’t school. I’m just here for the cake.
If I was a guest at Natalie and Benjamin’s wedding, I’d be seriously disappointed if he didn’t perform his vows through interpretive dance. I’d ask for a refund for the outfit I bought for that occasion. If the groom is a ballet dancer, I would to see some TWIRLS! And no word yet if during the couple’s first dance, Natalie Portman did 85% or 5% of her own dancing.
Here’s some pictures from June of Natalie, Benjamin and their 1-year-old kid Aleph strolling through Paris.