The other day I wrote about the mammal lounging on top of Billy Ray Cyrus’ dome, and I wondered if it sprouted from his own head or if he pulled it off of a shelf at a wig store in North Hollywood somewhere. After looking at these retina-burning pictures of Miley’s pawpaw at the CMT Music Awards in Nashville last night, it’s obvious that his hair is completely organic and he grew it himself, because no machine could ever create such a grand work of art! Sure, Billy Ray probably ran away from lit lighters and candles all night, but that’s not because he was wearing a highly flammable hairspray-covered rayon wig. But because the clouds of beauty wafting off of his hair are highly flammable and if they got close to a flame the entire joint would combust. That’s why.
But really, Billy Ray has taken his achy breaky beauty game to another level. That thing on his head looks like what Joyce DeWitt’s hair would look like if she discovered Bump-Its. It looks like butch Peg Bundy. It also looks like the wig an actress would wear if she was playing a wise-cracking, sassy 1960s waitress in a sitcom that shot in the 1980s. In other words, it is perfect. That beehive mullet is a party in the front AND a party in the back.
I know that only Billy Ray’s 8th world wonder wig matters, but I threw in pictures of Nicole Kidman and Oompa Loompa Keith too.
Former HSOTD, “world pop artist” and the white magic sorceress of style Z La La once again used her wizard powers to bring some much-needed sparkle to the MTV VMAs
red carpet FLOR carpet. Z LaLa was a spectacular glittery flower in the middle of a field of dull weeds.
Z LaLa not only has a stage name like a Teletubby, but last night she looked like a Teletubby after getting stuck while trying to shape-shift into Lady Gaga. Z LaLa was perfection from the tippity top of her cone dildo wig to the bottom hem of her exploding Christmas ribbon dress. Someone needed to show up to that dreadful award show looking like a Conehead witch who works part-time as an emcee in a Cirque du Soleil show and thank god that Z LaLa was that someone.
Z LaLa strikes me as the kind of fashion icon who really commits to her look and goes all the way, so I’m sure the drapes match the carpet. If you lifted her dress, I’m sure you’d find a long cone of pubes hanging off of her crotch. Z LaLa is also pretty brave for wearing a long black dildo wig to an event where Kartrashians will be. I’m sure Z LaLa had security guards who kept the Kartrashians from trying to climb up her body to fuck her wig.
And one of my other favorite looks of the night came from Our Robotic Lady of Cheetos and her suffocating chichis:
Daddy Spears should give a raise to whoever is responsible for doing Brit Brit up like Double Trouble from She-Ra in the uniform she wears to serve cocktails at a 2-star casino in Reno.
And here’s 6,000 pictures from the VMAs carpet. You should just stop clicking when you get to Rebecca Black, because it doesn’t get more A-listery or relevant than her.
We’re just a few days away from the heads of One Million Moms popping off as Miley Cyrus uses a pineapple-shaped rhinestone strap-on to butt fuck a purple power bottom unicorn on stage at the MTV VMAs. So to promote her hosting gig, Miley went on Jimmy Kimmel Live! last night while looking like the LSD baby that Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock pushed out 9 months after having messy, sloppy LSD-fueled sex with a rainbow disco ball light from Spencer’s Gifts.
As soon as Miley sat down, she and Jimmy Kimmel started talking about her chipmunk chest dumplings since they’re always out. In case you didn’t already figure it out after the 1,985,986th time she put her hillbilly chichis on display in public, she’s really comfortable being topless and partly because it makes other people uncomfortable. When Miley met Paul McCartney, she was nervous about meeting him, but was comforted by him being uncomfortable with her tits being out. Sure, when Miley meets someone with her tits out, it’s considered a “cute ice breaker.” But when I meet someone with my pants off, the police are called, my name ends up on a list and I get a cleaning bill because everyone barfed on the floor.
Here’s Miley talking about the tits on her chest, the tit she calls pappy and America’s fear of the nipple:
I’m typing this from my Braille keyboard now, because when she said, “My dad would rather me not have my tits out all the time,” I side-eyed so hard that my eyeballs turned 180 degrees. Please, that gives Billy Ray Cyrus pride and if he had tits like Miley, he too would slap some pasties on ’em and jiggle ’em for Jimmy Kimmel. Why am I giving Billy Ray ideas?
Miley also did a segment where she disguised herself as an Australian reporter and asked people on the street what they think of Miley Cyrus. Click here to see it, but a warning to Australians, her accent may make your ear holes bleed Vegemite. Although, her Australian accent is still better than Quentin Tarantino’s Australian accent in Django Unchained.
And here’s Miley showing up to ABC Studios after committing a criminal act by stealing one of Soleil Moon Frye’s old Punky Brewster outfits.
I’m surprised there’s not a fat billow of steam rising up off of them. Isn’t that what happens when an extra hot human flat iron touches an ice cube?
Last night, something that happens every single night happened: awards were handed out to country stars. All of the oxygen on this planet will be sucked out into the universe and vengeance will come if a day goes by where a country music star doesn’t thank the lord for the trophy in their hand. So last night, the CMT Music Awards went down at the Bridgestone Arena in Nashville. Since they’re at every country music awards show, the frozen porcelain vase and the fresh-outta-the-kiln ceramic pot in a Suze Orman wig were at the CMT Music Awards last night.
Nicole Kidman looked stunning in matador pants, a rich old lady’s lunchin’ shoes, a face by DuPont and a fur-trimmed top that was a gaudy toddler dress in a past life. I don’t know if it’s the makeup or lighting or what (“It’s the ‘what.'” – you), but the Botox Baroness looks like she strolled into her plastic surgeon’s office and pondered between the Madame brand cheek cutlets and the Phoebe Price brand cheek cutlets before going with the latter. But on a more important note, I need to know which brand of SPF: Infinity And Beyond Nicole uses, because I burn easily and it’s amazing that she doesn’t get even a little bit tan while standing next to that humanized UV ray.
Here’s more pictures from the CMT Music Awards including a couple of Billy Ray Cyrus outdoing Keith Urban in the flat iron game.
The youngest possumling of the Cyrus family, Noah Cyrus (aka the pole dancing child that everyone called CPS over), dribbled out an emotional Instagram post the other day over the INJUSTICE that her and Miley Cyrus’ older brother Trace Cyrus got slapped with while trying to eat at a restaurant in Kentucky. The restaurant said “neigh” when Trace stomped on in. I guess that restaurant is firmly on Team Brenda Song. And I can hear your, “That restaurant just didn’t want to get complaints from customers after Trace chewed on their hair and coats while waiting for his food” jokes from here.
Noah probably noah’s a thing or two (I’m not proud of myself for that) about INJUSTICE, because I’m sure she’s been kicked out of clubs for being underage while trying to party with Miley. Noah is not going to stand by and let that tattoo-shaming restaurant deny her kin service just because his body is covered in more ink than a sixth grader’s paper bag book cover. Noah spit at those wrong tattoo haters on Instagram.
A restaurant in Kentucky wouldn’t let my brother in because he has tattoos. That is so messed up and it really pisses me off that it’s even legal to do such a thing. The way I see it is he is completely made of art and if they knew him on the inside then they would know thats the truth. I love my brother and it brings me to tears to know someone would do that to him or anyone for that matter. So sad. I love you tracey and you’ve got a team supporting you.
Noah didn’t name names, but Trace did. The tattooed emo pony raged at that restaurant on Instagram:
Fuck Brothers in Newport KY!!!! Been all around the world and never had anyone deny me getting into anywhere because of my tattoos. It actually upset me because I’m from Kentucky and to see an establishment like this really shocked me…
He also Instagrammed the restaurant’s telephone number and told all of his followers to tell the manager off.
The restaurant that kicked Trace out isn’t a fine dining establishment like the Olive Garden or some shit, so I don’t know why they got super snobby over someone’s appearance. Even then, the Olive Garden lets me eat there, so they’ll obviously serve anyone. Miley Cyrus should buy that Kentucky restaurant and let people with tattoos and pink pubes eat for free. But is there more to this story? Was Billy Ray Cyrus with them? Because if he was, maybe the restaurant didn’t deny the family service because of Trace’s tattoos. Maybe they denied them service, because they knew the health department would shut them down if they let that roadkill on Billy Ray’s head in.
Here’s Noah and Billy Ray at some event in L.A. last month.
If you’re having the kind of day where you don’t really give a shit that your eye sockets will heave your eyeballs out onto the floor and your ears will close up along with your coochie and/or b-hole, then here’s the perfect thing for you.
Because Billy Ray Cyrus got sick of Miley Cyrus getting all the attention by terrorizing the retinas of the masses, he shot a shit puddle of a video for the sequel to Achy Breaky Heart with help from Dionne Warwick’s rapping son Buck 22, Larry King and a bunch of twerking Thundercat hos. Thanks to Larry King’s intro, the song and the pile of cut-off raccoon tails on Billy’s head, this video is the unsexiest thing ever.
1. Who, besides Billy Ray and his accountant, asked for a sequel to Achy Breaky Heart?
2. Why did Dionne Warwick let this happen?
3. How am I still typing even though all of my bodily functions have pretty much shut down and turned on me for watching all 3:33 minutes of this musical torture device?
On New Year’s Eve, while we were all getting balls-deep in a boxed-wine-and-Four Loko-induced blind drunkeness (Raise of hands. Just me? Ouch) Larry King quietly gave us the most beautiful gift for 2014 when he tweeted about the existence of a hip-hop version of Achy Breaky Heart. Hold on, let me give you a moment to process what I just said.
Billy Ray Cyrus aka Big Poppa Chipmunk aka Miley’s Dad (to anyone under 21) has allegedly recorded a hip-hop version of his 1992 hit country single Achy Breaky Heart. And the Earth hasn’t stopped spinning yet? It doesn’t take Bill Nye to hypothesize that something this big would surely throw the Earth off its axis (or at least make it rain frogs like in Magnolia). Jesus, what is it with the Cyrus family’s obsession with appropriating urban culture and just running it full-steam into the ground? You couldn’t stop at Bangerz? I’d say that the hip-hop community suffered enough and this single should never be released, but I would be lying. I want to hear this song more than I want to hear the future words of my unborn children.
Oh, and just in case your brain did a good job of erasing Achy Breaky Heart from your memory…
I’m sorry, but If my brain is melting into a puddle of goo, I’m taking all of you with me! The only thing more embarrassing than that video is knowing that I performed a figure skating routine to Achy Breaky Heart as a kid. Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes I did take my therapist’s advice and burned all photographic evidence.
I never thought the day would come when Miley Cyrus’s Twitter feed would school my ass on romance. Here I thought it was all about flowers and jewelry and long walks on the beach where I spend the entire time bitching about the wind and how shitty my hair looks and begging to go back to my natural habitat (anywhere inside). It looks I’ve spent the last 14 years whining about the wrong shit and missed the memo announcing true love has taken flight in the form of the most beauteous fashion statement of all time- the Canadian tuxedo!
Love for denim on denim must run through Miley’s veins. Billy Ray was saucing the panties back in his mullet days with some bulge, a little bit of titty fur and a lot of jean. Now we know how Daddy Cyrus ended up with so many kids (the answer to the mystery of who foaled Trace may lie in this picture here).
Even though Miley’s tweet could easily replace The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate as the go-to resource for how to have a successful relationship, it might just be her way of letting Liam Hemsworth know what he has to do to get back in her good graces. USWeekly says the two have been “flirty” texting (Miley: Ooh, baby, I wanna ride your wrecking balls– GROSS!) and that Liam wants to reconcile. If he had any sense, he wouldn’t be too quick to race back to a life where he’ll spend the rest of his days dressed like a bunkassed redneck wedding cake topper.
Putting Miley into show business. Allowing Noah to dress like a harlot. Letting Trace walk around in public without a bag over his head. The Cyruses won’t ever be up for Parents of the Year, so why not let a 13 year old Noah drive a damn car while you sit shotgun, Billy Ray? TMZ has a photo of Billy Ray- smiling like he just got spun around in a hairdresser’s chair and handed a mirror to check out the back of his blowout- next to his teenaged daughter who’s behind the wheel in Toluca Lake, CA.
Someone needs to remind him that this isn’t some podunk town in Kentucky where throwing your kid into a rusted out Chevy truck when they’re old enough to reach the pedals is a rite of passage. This is Southern California, where where the likes of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Kendall Jenner prove they can’t drive for shit and cruise around like they’re at some bunkass carnival riding the bumper cars. It may be fitting, though, considering the entire Cyrus family is about as close to actual carnies as it gets in Hollywood.
If Trish or Billy Ray had a brain in either of their damn heads, they would look at Exhibits A, B, C and so on until they run out of letters and have to switch over to the Greek alphabet and maybe realize that treating your kids like adults can backfire. The last thing Hollywood needs is another spoiled, entitled brat whose parents never learned the phrase that pays: FUCK NO! Noah looks so much like a younger Miley I want to scoop her up before it’s too late for her and bring her home. She can drive our Deere lawn tractor and instead of building a resumé filled with “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM??” and underage traffic violations, she can build some fucking character by the tried-and-true method normal parents use called “go outside and do all the shit I’m tired of doing”. Give me a few weekends of raking leaves and shoveling snow and I’ll have all the fuckery her parents have instilled in her gone.
(Pic of Billy Ray, Noah and Brandi Cyrus via Instagram)
On Sunday night, Billy Ray Cyrus holed himself up in his basement and stared at a wall of TVs thatplayed Miley Cyrus’ VMAs performance on a loop. Every few hours, he’d call up his housekeeper and tell her to bring him possum jerky, pig lard, moonshine and moist towelletes. Billy Ray finally crawled out of his basement and called Miley to tell her what he thought about her Chipmunks Gone Wild performance. Of course, Billy Ray is proud that Miley twerked out wet strands of elegance all over the family name. Miley tweeted her pappy’s response today. Prepare the brain bleach!
“Mile, if twerkin woulda been invented…. And I had a foam finger…. I woulda done the same thang you did.” – DAD
— Miley Ray Cyrus (@MileyCyrus) August 28, 2013
First of all, doesn’t Billy Ray know that Miley is the one who invented twerkin? Twerkin’ didn’t exist before Miley invented it, obviously. When Miley was just one of Billy Ray’s jizz fish, she twerked her way into Tish Cyrus’ ovary egg and that’s how twerkin’ was born. Second of all, I bet he got his top lip wet with his tongue when he said “foam finger” and I don’t like it. Third of all, Billy Ray should put out a song called Achy Breaky Twerk (which is the perfect way to describe Miley’s twerk) and collaborate with Robin Thicke, because I really want to see him have dry butt sex with Alan Thicke’s son while giving head to a foam finger.