Despite the fact that Beyoncé just finished performing the last of her 6 billion shows of the Mrs. Carter tour (she believes it was live streamed directly into the hearts and minds of everyone on earth, do not correct her) and Jay Z recently wrapped up his Smooth Character tour, and the fact that they have so much money they could buy Jesus Christ himself and let Blue Ivy hunt him for sport, Page Six says that Her Majesty Bey and her husband who’s name is not as important have decided to launch a 20-date stadium tour starting late-June.
Damn bitch, everyone has heard you sing about surfboards, we don’t need another tour for the surfbort song. Take a break, put your fucking feet up, take up knitting or some shit, do whatever you gotta do to decompress, but don’t do another tour. We’re all tired. I don’t have enough fight left in me to compete with the Bumble Beys for concert tickets. They’re monsters; they’ll jump through your ethernet cable and cut your fucking ear off. Take a break, please.
And I see you, Blue Ivy. I know that this is all your doing. That sneaky toddler probably has her eye on a new nap-time yacht or a solid-gold baby wipes dispenser, so she snuck into Beyoncé dressing room and left a hand-written note under Bey’s best wig that said: “I can’t help notice that your bank balance has dipped below a billion dollars. Is money tight right now? Should I help ease the burden by moving in with Unky Kanye and Auntie Plasticface? If only there were a way to make more money, but I have no idea, because I’m just a baby. Oh well. Maybe you and Daddy will figure something out.”
That thirsty ass, Pedialyte-needing Beyonce! She can’t even let Basement Baby have 15 minutes under the dusty, weed smoke-filled spotlight at Coachella without jumping in and sucking in all of the attention. At the end of Basement Baby’s set at the hipster spring break nightmare hell hole known as Coachella, the Queen of the Universe Beyonce (wearing a hat attached to a weave) jumped on stage during “Losing You” to turn that Basement Baby Extravaganza into the Beyonce (featuring Basement Baby) Extravaganza! Beyonce was on that stage longer than Destiny’s Child was on stage at the damn Super Bowl. Those hipsters should really be ashamed of themselves. Because if they were for real hipsters, as soon as Beyonce jumped on stage, they would’ve pretended not to know who she was, said “Who?” and spent the rest of the show Instagramming pictures of the henna tattoos they got on their labias. But they lost their minds over Beyonce.
But seriously, celebwhores are just like us. They bust out choreographed dances with their sister. But instead of doing it in the garage to a Menudo song playing on a battery-operated Boombox in front of their stuffed animals, they do it for thousands of drunk fake hipsters in flower headbands in bindis at a festival in the desert.
Jay-Z also was a surprise guest at Nas’ set.
And while Beyonce was crashing BB’s show and Jay-Z was crashing Nas’ show, Blue Ivy Carter was at a nearby church crashing Saturday night mass. As soon as Blue Ivy Carter came through the back doors, all of God’s disciples stopped worshiping him and worshiped her instead.
The center of the beyocentric theory (the theory being that the universe revolves around Beyonce) is in the Dominican Republican with Jay-Z and Jesus’ goddaughter Blue Ivy Carter and she’s been feeding the BumbleBeys pictures of the REAL royal vacation (sorry, Duchess Kate, Prince Willy and Baby Prince George) on Instagram. Beyonce posted these pictures of her casually golfing in her golfing bikini and vacation weave, and as The Frisky points out, something in the milk looks ‘SHOPPED!
Either a back alley, strung out plastic surgeon with shaky hands lipo’d Beyonce’s thighs with a wet vac or somebody did a shit Photoshop job on that picture, because I don’t think thighs are supposed to look like that and that line in the grass is magically missing. You know what, though, Beyonce is THEE most important feminist of all-time , so if she wants to make Basement Baby take Kim Kardashian level (read: below beginner) Photoshop classes on the University of Phoenix online and lazily ‘shop a thigh gap onto her Instagram vacation pictures, then she can do it. It’s her body, so if she wants to, she can Photoshop her thighs so badly that it looks like she’s a Target.com model.
But really, both of those pictures look suspect and there’s a lot missing from them. These were obviously shot in front of a green screen and Basement Baby Photoshopped the background in later. Because if Beyonce really took these outside, there would be dozens of peons worshipping at her feet, white doves would be flying out of her ass, her weave would be blowing from the angels throwing her air kisses and those palm trees in the background would be bowing at her greatness. So yeah, totally Photoshopped.
Since feminism didn’t truly exist until Beyoncé discovered it, Beyoncé has once again put on her smart lady glasses (a lensless pair of Sallys) and batik-print caftan to conduct an interview with OUT magazine as her alter-ego, associate dean of women’s studies Dr. Sasha Fierce-Byrnstein and speak about feminism and sexuality. She must be currently re-writing Our Bodies, Ourselves (new title: My Body, You Wish) because she has a lot to say. Firstly, Dr. Fierce-Byrnstein would like you to know that singing about riding Joe Camel’s surfbort dick is the reason you now feel comfortable enough to consider buying a vibrator:
“I’d like to believe that my music opened up that conversation. There is unbelievable power in ownership, and women should own their sexuality. There is a double standard when it comes to sexuality that still persists. Men are free and women are not. That is crazy.”
She then goes on to say that regardless of whatever arbitrary job you have, you can still hold your head high and fuck like you’ve got two new bottles of lube and no neighbours:
“You can be a businesswoman, a mother, an artist, and a feminist — whatever you want to be — and still be a sexual being. It’s not mutually exclusive.”
But it’s not just women who benefit from Beyoncé’s discovery of feminism and equality (start writing your Thank You letters to Beyoncé now, gay people):
“Being that I am a woman in a male-dominated society, the feminist mentality rang true to me and became a way to personalize that struggle…But what I’m really referring to, and hoping for, is human rights and equality, not just that between a woman and a man. So I’m very happy if my words can ever inspire or empower someone who considers themselves an oppressed minority.”
TL:DR: “You’re welcome, everyone. You can start naming universities after me now.”
Look, I’m really happy that Beyoncé discovered feminism and equality, I truly am (I’ll take a 20 Beyoncés over another Kirsten Dunst) but I CAN’T with the way she believes she’s created this radical, unheard-of theory. Every time she opens her mouth, she ends up sounding like your hippie college roommate the day they discovered the Diva Cup.
Here’s more of Dr. Sasha Fierce-Byrnstein after she took off her glasses and put on a ratty white wig to become her third alter ego, slutty Carol Channing:
During Beyoncé’s rehearsal for her Grammy performance of Drunk in Love (“Is the track playing? Yes? Okay, good rehearsal everyone!”) someone caught the voice of the chosen child of the Illuminati, Blue Ivy Carter singing along with her mother. Well, describing it as singing along might be generous; the only word she knows is ‘surfbort’, but I’ll allow it, considering those are the only words I know too.
Once Beyoncé recognizes that it’s Blue Ivy’s voice, and not just a sound tech she plans on firing for daring to sound better than she, she calls out “Hi Blue Blue!” and BIC responds with “Hi Mommy!” I know, I too am shocked that she referred to her Mommy; I just assumed Beyoncé would make her child address her Most Heavenly Wearer of the Dramatiqué Lacefronts. But it’s actually kind of sweet the way Beyoncé reacts to hearing her child call her Mommy; it’s almost as if it’s the first time that’s ever happened (good one, Allison).
And to answer your question, no, Her Holiness Blue-Blue was not mic’d; she was born with the ability to speak at full volume like the voice of God.
Except you know Beyoncé refers to her as ‘Kanye’s reality show girlfriend’. HA! Listen to me, acting like Beyoncé even acknowledges her at all. Every time Kim Kardashian approaches Beyoncé, Blue Ivy probably steps in and asks “Can I help you, ma’am? Are you here for an autograph?” before whipping out a Sasha Fierce-era 8×10 glossy and asking who she would like it made out to. “I can’t write very well, because I’m a toddler, but let’s just pretend this squiggle represents whatever it is your name is. What is that you’re holding; is that your baby? Ooo-wee, there but for the grace of Bey go I.”
But the tribute to Kim doesn’t simply end at Bey’s RuPaul-approved padded ass (for real though, it looks like her stylist cut two pieces of foam padding in the shape of Africa). According to The Mirror, Nick Grimshaw, everyone at the O2 Arena, most of Twitter, The Queen, her corgis, Paddington Bear, and a sleeve of McVitie’s Ginger Nuts all thought Beyoncé’s performance of XO at the BRIT Awards last night put the snore in boring. Well, you know what they say: if you want to put on a boring performance, there’s no better reference material than Kim’s sex tape.
After watching a bit of it myself, I have to admit it’s not that bad (I know, what’s happening, book an MRI). I was expecting a Theraflu-sponsored performance by a more-capable Lana Del Rey on horse tranquilizers, but we just got Beyoncé being plain ol’ Beyoncé. Look, British people, you set your expectations too high; not every performance is going to involve greasy chair grinding and surfborts. Sometimes you’re just going to get Blue Ivy’s mom in a long-ass lacefront and one of the leftover gowns from Dreamgirls.
(Pics: Splash, Wenn)
File this under: Obama and Beyonce fanfic written by Beyonce.
In totally real and not-at-all made up news, the French newspaper le Figaro (via Jezebel) reported this morning that there’s a good explanation for why Beyonce always beams from her face at President Obama like he’s a pile of virgin Indian hair or like he’s a picture of Beyonce: they’re fucking on each other. A French photographer named Pascal Rostain (which I’m pretty sure is French for “Michelle Williams In Need Of A Quick Check“) tells le Figaro that Beyonce is the Marilyn Monroe to Obama’s JFK and that The Washington Post is going to break this ESCANDALOSONESS tomorrow. When I ran a piece of le Figaro’s article through Google Translate (from French Bullshit into English Bullshit) this came out:
This morning, the paparazzi Pascal Rostain invited the largest direct media on Europe 1, supported this rumor by saying that the American press ( Washington Post in this case) would report tomorrow Tuesday a ” affair ” between Barack Obama and Beyoncé. “You know, at this time, the United States , there is something big that is happening ,” said he explained to micro Jean- Marc Morandini. Moreover, it will come out tomorrow in the Washington Post. We can not say that it is the gutter press, a supposed connection between President Barack Obama and Beyoncé. I can assure you that the world will talk . “
France’s Gala magazine picked up this story and added another layer of manufactured messiness to it. They also say that Beyonce is the First Side Piece of America and Obama and Michelle Obama are getting a divorce soon. Pascal Rostain continued to mouth shit out more hilariousness:
“There are [photographs and] television images of the Obamas [in which they are] a little distant. Just because it’s a rumor doesn’t mean that one should not go into the field to check. We should not forget Marilyn [Monroe] or Monica Lewinsky. You can be the president of the first world power — that doesn’t make you any less a man.”
HipHollywood points out that some hos are throwing a side-eye at this shit because of the timing. French President Francois Hollande is meeting with Obama in the US this week and he’s currently going through a scandal of his own. Hollande cheated on his girlfriend Valérie Trierweiler by passing his peen to French actress Juliet Gayet for two years.
The Washington Post has already said that they aren’t running a story about Obama having an affair with Sasha Home Wrecker.
Thank you to the French, once again, for showing hos how gossip is truly done. If you’re going to lie, lie big. Basement Baby just poured herself a second cup of lukewarm moth tea and is having the kiki of all kikis with the basement mice and her dusty Destiny’s Child dolls. This is pretty ridiculous since Beyonce thinks she’s the Queen of Every Universe and would never lower herself to the position of First Side Piece, but I still love le Figaro for giving me the image of Michelle Obama sniffing Obama’s dick for the scent of wig glue and a Maya Angelou poem.
Because I live in the land of the past known as the West Coast, the Grammys aren’t on live here (fuck you, CBS!). Even though it’s happening almost four farts away from my house, I can’t watch that cesspool of fuckery as it happens. So I’m watching the Grammys through clips. I tried watching a live feed of it, but it was so blurry and janky that it could’ve been a live stream from John Travolta’s colon cam for all I know. You know, mostly full of shit, but a sparkle from a shard of glitter here and there.
Anyway, Beyonce and Jay-Z opened the Grammys and it was like House of Dereon: After Dark. Beyonce copied RuPaul’s Drag Race by LIP-SYNCHING FOR HER LIFE. She copied Flashdance and Chicago with those stripper chair moves. And she copied a horny cat in heat itching for that Q-tip when she did this move:
But what’s really offensive is that Beyonce copied a chola-on-the-go with that hair. Any chola who’s in a rush, stays glamorous by applying massive amounts of L.A. Looks gel right after getting out of the shower and then she air dries her mop by keeping the windows rolled all the way down while she drives to work. Instant crunchy curls! And Jay-Z got into the copying game by copying the dance moves of somebody’s alcoholic grandpa who just had a stroke and suffers from full-body arthritis.
As expected, the First Lady of the Illuminati performed at the 50th birthday party of the First Lady of the United States on Saturday night. Beyonce (the gorgeous blonde white woman in the picture above) put on one of Tina Turner’s old dresses and sang “Single Ladies” and “Irreplaceable” for Michelle Obama while Obama did the Dougie in front of 500 guests. It was just like my mom’s 50th birthday party, but instead of Obama doing the dougie, my drunk tio did the barefoot salsa and instead of Beyonce performing, we played a warped Hector Lavoe cassette on a battery-powered Boombox.
The Chicago Tribune says that guests including the Clintons, Jennifer Hudson, Kal Penn, the Bidens, Nancy Pelosi, Donna Brazile, Sir Paul McCartney, Janelle Monae, Ashley Judd, Billie Jean King and Al “White House Sharter” Roker all sipped champagne as Beyonce, John Legend and Stevie Wonder entertained their asses. It was a no cell phone party and they didn’t want anybody uploading pictures to social media. But that didn’t stop Beyonce from taking pictures before and after the party. Beyonce put a bunch of pics on her site including that one above of her with Bo. Or maybe that’s Sunny. All black dogs look the same to me. (No dog racist.)
What’s really fucked up is that Beyonce obviously made her Photoshop team spend hours on touching her up, yet she couldn’t ask them to fix Bo’s eye? Poor Bo. Beyonce made him the Michelle Williams of White House dogs. And if the pictures of Blue Ivy Carter are from this weekend, then the Obamas are just like us! They keep their Christmas tree up until February and if they’re really like my mom, they’ll plant the dead tree in the backyard and pretend it looks pretty.
The bar has just been raised for the former Biggest Feminist. If Miley wants to one-up Queen B, she’s going to have to come out with a book of feminist poetry or something (I sincerely look forward to the release of I Know Why The Gross Cooch Twerks).
Beyoncé Knowles-Carter put on her best ‘smart-looking’ glasses, pinned her hair into a librarian bun, and put on the same black caftan and giant turquoise jewellery your Women’s Studies professor wore every day in college to compose a 200-word letter for Maria Shriver’s website The Shriver Report called “Gender Equality Is a Myth!” In it, Beyoncé’s newest alter ego, Associate Professor Sasha Fierce-Byrnstein, PhD, discusses what we’ve already read a million times on Jezebel:
Today, women make up half of the U.S. workforce, but the average working woman earns only 77 percent of what the average working man makes. But unless women and men both say this is unacceptable, things will not change.
So why are we viewed as less than equal? These old attitudes are drilled into us from the very beginning. We have to teach our boys the rules of equality and respect, so that as they grow up, gender equality becomes a natural way of life. And we have to teach our girls that they can reach as high as humanly possible.
It’s a good letter, but I don’t for a second believe Beyonce wrote it. The most cohesive thing she’s written recently was the lyrics to Drunk In Love, and even then she just lazily repeated the same words over and over again while grossing me out with the visual of her fucking on Joe Camel in a cramped bathtub.
Here’s what really happened: Beyonce overheard a sales person at Barneys New York talking about the wage gap while trying on her 3rd pair of solid gold Louboutins, rubbed her two brain cells together, then sent Solange down to the basement with a typewriter and told her not to return until she’s written a letter that makes Betty Friedan sound like Courtney Stodden. Then she took a nap and had a dream where she wins a Nobel Prize.
(Pic via Wenn)