I’m making the exact same confused stoner face trying to figure out what in Ice House Hell I’m supposed to be looking at (I want to say “cupcakes”, but I feel like the correct answer is “a representation of the feeling of a crippling meth addiction”).
Billy Bob Thornton appeared on a recent episode of Oprah’s Master Class, and for whatever reason, he whipped out a sharpened french fried potater and went for the jugular of the Food Network show Cupcake Wars. Of all the truly disgusting mind-numbingly bad reality shows he could have hissed at, he picked the one about people trying to make small cakes. HOW MUCH IS PIMP MAMA KRIS PAYING YOU, BILLY BOB??
“We don’t need one show about cupcakes, as far as I’m concerned. But you know what, if you’ve got one, okay, that’s fine, let’s have a show about cupcakes. But does it have to be a fucking competition? Do you have to have Cupcake Wars? And I’m sure people who have been in war kind of take offense to that. Because seriously, it’s not that goddamn dangerous to make a cupcake.”
Damn, shots fired! Welcome to 2014′s newest feud, starring the dude who used to be a dragon tattoo on Angelina Jolie’s shoulder vs. a low-budget baking reality show who’s main viewership comes from owners who left the TV on so their cats wouldn’t get lonely. Who will win?!? It’s tough to say, but right now my money is on a re-run of Unwrapped.
Meanwhile, Guy Fieri just popped a bottle of sparkling donkey sauce to celebrate that there’s someone out there who doesn’t consider him to be the dumbest, most useless thing on the Food Network.
via E! News
When rapper T.I. got into a fist-fight with boxer Floyd Mayweather in Las Vegas on Memorial Day weekend, neither would say why they decided to go all Street Fighter in a Fatburger, but everybody shanked a side-eye over to T.I.’s wife Tiny Harris and assumed that pocket-sized troublemaking muppet had something to do with it. At the time, TMZ speculated that the fight broke out because Tiny had posted a selfie with Floyd’s daughter on Instagram, and that pissed T.I. off. But again, nobody knew why it would piss him off. It was truly a mystery worthy of Jessica Fletcher or Detective La Toya.
Now nearly 2 months later, Floyd Mayweather has come forward to admit that the fight was not, in fact, over the a strawnana shake, as I had previously guessed. TMZ says that during a press conference for an upcoming fight (a legit fight, not a messy drunk brawl in a Fatburger) a reporter shouted out “What about T.I.?”, to which Floyd responded:
“What about the bitch? I was fucking his bitch.”
TINY, NO!!!!…is what I would say if believed that Floyd Mayweather even had the skills to seduce the elegant melted Mariah Carey candle that is Tiny Harris. Tiny ain’t no round-the-way ho like the tricks from Nuttin’ Nyce; Tiny was in Xscape, and Xscape was all kinds of classy. Do you think this bitch sleeps with just anyone? Exactly.
And if T.I. reacts anywhere nearly as strongly as he did the last time someone talked shit about his wife, we’re about 24-hours away from another next-level bonkers Instagram rant, and frankly, I can’t wait. T.I. is the poetic genius who gave us “musty-mouthed syphilis-lipped ugly-ass gremlin baby”, so I look forward to what he has in store to describe Floyd. I’m hoping something like “shit-scooting clap-dripping trash-ass ghoulie fetus”.
The Daily Mail, the only journal of integrity that any of us trust, blew out a “sorry, bitch” to George Clooney a couple of days ago for publishing a fraudulent story about how Amal Alamuddin’s mother doesn’t want her daughter to marry one of Hollywood’s most seasoned man sluts because he’s not Druze. In their apology, The Daily Mail claimed that they didn’t just pull the story out of their asshole (even though I’m pretty sure their company name is Out Of Our Asshole, Inc. Not to be confused with the name of Dlisted’s company name, Out Of Our Gaping Asshole, LLC). The Mail said that one of their freelance journalists got the story from very, very trustworthy members of the Lebanese community in Beirut and I’m taking that to mean that the freelance journalist wrote that story right after getting drunk and high at a Lesbian bar playing Beirut all night. But George has spit on their apology and thrown it back in their faces. George has got The Daily Mail’s number, HUSSY!
George wrote a response to The Daily Mail’s apology on USA Today and he calls them out for being contradicting whores and declared them the worst kind of tabloid. In a darkened corner in a bar somewhere, The National Enquirer is silently weeping over their 5th cup of vodka, because they feel so inadequate.
There is one constant when a person or company is caught doing something wrong. The coverup is always worse.
In this case, the Daily Mail has printed an apology for insinuating religious tensions where there are none. In the apology, managing editor Charles Garside claims that the article was “not a fabrication,” but “based the story on conversations with senior members of the Lebanese community.”
The problem is that none of that is true. The original story never cites that source, but instead goes out of its way to insist on four different occasions that “a family friend” spoke directly to the Mail. A ” family friend” was the source. So either they were lying originally or they’re lying now.
Furthermore, they knew ahead of time that they were lying. In an article dated April 28, 2014, reporter Richard Spillett writes in the Mail that “Ramzi, (Amal’s father), married outside the Druze faith,” and a family friend said that “Baria, (Amal’s mom), is not Druze.” The Mail knew the story in question was false and printed it anyway.
What separates this from all of the ridiculous things the Mail makes up is that now, by their own admission, it can be proved to be a lie. In fact, a premeditated lie.
So I thank the Mail for its apology. Not that I would ever accept it, but because in doing so they’ve exposed themselves as the worst kind of tabloid.
George showed them the receipts!
I love it only and only because it screams, “And check your lipstick before you come and talk to me.” George Clooney always has the last word. When I read, “Not that I would ever accept it,” I pictured him saying it while throwing the same “up and down + eye roll” look a bitchy high schooler throws at one of her minions for wearing pink on a Thursday. Tina Fey should’ve cast George Clooney as Regina George, because that is the role he was born to play. Regina George Clooney!
George almost comes off like a sane Alec Baldwin. The two of them should get together to shoot a weekly show where they shit on all the tabloids who print lies about them. They can be our new Statler and Waldorf!
No, you’re not looking at a picture of the Jenner ghouls celebrating after another successful contract negotiation at Lucifer’s office in Hell (because everybody knows those tricks can’t take a picture without Pimp Mama Kris popping out of nowhere to photobomb it with her busted earthworm nose). It’s actually Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez during happier times before Demi decided to pull a Jewel and “tenderly undo” their friendship.
Hollywood Life says that on Wednesday, the love child of Shreeky and Beastly from Care Bears declared her friendship with Selena Gomez was officially as dead as the fried ends of her weave by unfollowing her on Twitter and confirming that, no bitch, it wasn’t a mistake, by posting this picture immediately afterwards:
Shortly after tweeting her passive-aggressive air kiss to Selena, she must have looked at the date on her driver’s license and realized she’s actually a 21-year-old woman and not a bitchy 7th grader, and she deleted that shit. But she still isn’t following Selena on Twitter, so you know that angry ho still means business! Meanwhile, Selena hasn’t noticed any of Demi’s shade, because she’s too busy making sure the little boy she’s babysitting hasn’t cut his Kool Aid Jammers with cough syrup.
I don’t want to sound like a Metamucil-guzzling oldie, but back in the day you handled your shit like a grown-ass woman. You didn’t snatch a wig on Twitter or Instagram; you snatched it in real life, in a crowded parking lot, while trying not to spill your Big Gulp. And that’s IF you have to resort to wig-snatching; the most successful bitch fight I’ve ever seen was between two stone-cold cunts who just sat there staring at each other. No words, just eyelids getting squintier and squintier until you got the message that these bitches were DONE!
Nicki Minaj (born name: Onika Tanya Maraj) would like to take a minute or two out of your Wednesday to clarify the shade she indirectly threw at Iggy Azalea (born name: Amethyst Amelia Kelly) during her extra sloppy speech at the BET Awards on Sunday night. But before we get into that, I just need to say that Onika vs. Amethyst sounds like the GLOW wrestling match of my dreams.
While accepting the award for Best Female Hip Hop Artist, the double-stuffed rapping pantyhose doll called out Iggy, without calling out Iggy by name, for being a fraudulent marionette with a fake ass who simply spits out the words that T.I. and other rappers wrote for her. But on Twitter (via Gawker) today, Nicki said that the media got it completely twisted around and she wasn’t trying to tear a ho down, she was giving a pep talk. Nicki gave another “We’ve Got To Do Better” sermon while subtly shading Iggy at the same time:
The media puts words in my mouth all the time and this is no different. I will always take a stance on women writing b/c I believe in us! I believe we’re smart enough to write down our own thoughts and perspective, just like the men do. I’ve been saying this for 5 YEARS. I fell in love with Lauryn Hill b/c I knew she was the author behind those amazingly profound and articulated songs on the MisEducation. I wondered how Lauryn tapped into my brain and wrote an album on love, betrayal, passion, pain, triumph, brokenness…. Did she read minds? It’s the same reason I have a different level of respect for Missy. I know she’s a writer and a producer. Women MUST aspire for more.
I’ve congratulated Iggy on the success of Fancy, publicly. She should be very proud of that. All the women nominated should b proud. That will never change my desire to motivate women to write. Our voices have to be heard. I hope I inspire up & coming females to do that.
That’s a “Stop copying from that boy’s paper, Iggy” speech if I ever heard one.
I never got this “feud.” You’d think that two Fraggle Rock refugees who both bought their asses from the same Goodyear franchise and who bought put on some weird accent when they rap would love each other and be the Thelma & Louise of hip hop. Maybe they feel like the world of bubblegum rap isn’t big enough for both of their 18-wheeler asses. But if Iggy really is getting her lyrics from T.I.’s cheat sheet, I wish she’d stop and write about what she knows. Because I, for one, would love to hear rap songs about Kath & Kim, bogans, Vegemite farts and Brynne Edelsten’s pussy game.
This weekend, gold medal-winning soccer star and former Dancing with the Has-Beens contestant Hope Solo went a little more lady thug than Ladybugs (I’ll show myself out fort that one) by getting drunk and giving her 17-year-old nephew the Maksim Chmerkovskiy special. According to TMZ, Hope Solo missed her flight in Seattle, and rather than hang out with a plate of fajita poppers at the Chili’s Too in the airport, a drunk and pissed-off Hope went to her sisters house. Hope, who puts the ‘-unt’ in the word ‘aunt’, accused her nephew of talking shit about her and hissed that he’d never be a pro-athlete because he’s “too fat and crazy” (I guess there’s only room for ‘too crazy’ in the world of professional sports).
The 17-year-old left the room and 32-year-old Hope followed right behind, calling him a “pussy”, to which Hope’s nephew told her to “get her cunt face out of my house”. That’s when Hope Solo went loco and started punching her nephew’s face and pulling at his hair. To make matters even messier, Hope’s nephew ran into a back room and came out with a BB gun pointed at Hope, but I guess he forgot his aunt has a deflated soccer ball for a brain, because she kept coming for him.
Hope eventually left and the nephew called the cops, but like 2 seconds after he hung up the phone, she returned to kick in the door and start swiping at everyone, including her sister. Her nephew grabbed a broomstick and started hitting his crazy aunt in the head, but it didn’t do any good and she kept punching and slapping. Eventually the cops showed up and arrested Hope Solo for confusing her sister’s house for a UFC Octagon, but she’s already been released from after pleading “not guilty” and claiming she’s the real victim after being assaulted and injured during the “unfortunate incident” at her sister’s. She’s due back in court in August.
DAMN! Han Solo, come get your long-lost daughter, because bitch is A MESS and needs some guidance. Then again, it might be more trouble than it’s worth. She’ll run off to the Mos Eisley Cantina, get next-level space drunk, come home, kick down the door to the Millennium Falcon, and rough up your wookiee. Then she’ll grab your gun, try to shoot you, and then when the cops arrest her, she’ll claim she’s just an innocent victim and that Han shot first.
That Model Magic-faced troublemaking Muppet is at it again! Less than a month after an Instagram picture of Tameka “Tiny” Cottle instigated a fight between T.I. and boxer Floyd Mayweather that turned into an ugly Memorial Day chair-throwing Fatburger brawl, she’s found herself in the middle of yet another one of her husband’s fights, this time with full-time professional crazy Internet person (and sometime rapper) Azealia Banks. Billboard says that it all started after the release of T.I.’s single with Iggy Azalea, “No Mediocre”, to which Azealia Cupholder Full of Loose Change Tweeted (then deleted):
“U want no mediocre but…Have you seen your wife?”
RUDE! Tiny Cottle is the very definition of remarkable and extraordinary, you jealous hag. Naturally a statement that nasty would make anyone want to reply back: “Bitch, have you seen how long it’s taking you to release an album??”, but T.I. took the high road and said nothing. This must have pissed off Azealia even more, because she kept taking swipes at T.I. and Tiny in an insanely bold Twitter rant on Tuesday (which has since been deleted, because Azealia has a hard time releasing stuff) but thankfully Billboard hit ctrl+C before she did. This shit is long and messy, so it’s after the break:
At Sunday night’s show in Milan (“I love Italy! Pass the Beefaroni, y’all!”) Canary Yellow’s brake fluid-chugging country cuzzin Miley Cyrus spotted someone in the audience holding a cardboard cutout with the head of Selena Gomez and the body of a gingerbread Dr. Frank-N-Furter. So she did what anyone would do when their Google alerts have been a little lethargic; she picked up the toddler-faced cutout and hillbilly yodelled “FU” to it while giving it the finger.
TMZ has the grainy video of Miley serenading the Flat Stanley version of Selena (yes that was my second Flat Stanley joke of the day, and no I didn’t hire my eight-year-old neighbour to ghost write for me so I could finish watching OITNB) and she only sings with it for a moment before throwing it back into the audience. Some think that possum-brained tweaker snatched it during “FU” to send a shady message to Selena. Others say she was excited to see a prop she hadn’t yet rubbed her stank on. But let’s be honest, she probably took it because she thought it might have drugs.
Miley has a nose like a bloodhound; her sense of smell is so sharp, she can detect drugs from more than 20 feet away (the TSA actually tried to use her as an alternative to drug-sniffing dogs, but she got fired when she wouldn’t stop eating the drugs and humping people’s legs). She probably caught a whiff of the T3′s she keeps hidden in her coochie, spotted what she thought was Towelie’s girlfriend (aka her dealer), pulled her on stage so she could buy drugs, mouthed “Y’all cain’t arrest me if I’m in International Waters, y’all!” to security, realized she was holding a drawing on a pizza box, sniffed at the bikini for leftover Sharpie fumes, then tossed it back into the audience with a note that said “NEXT TIME HAVE DRUGS PLZ”.
TLC, the modest and chaste Christian musical group who had a wholesome hit song about eating that pussy while on the rag shook their heads at RiRi for constantly using sex and her bare alien nipples to sell her music. During an interview with the Australian talk show Sunrise on Channel 7 (via Entertainmentwise), the topic of RiRi’s always out there nipples came up and T-Boz said this:
“Every time I see you, you don’t have to be naked. It’s easy to sell sex. It’s hard for us to say anything because any time we do, they say, ‘Oh TLC must be jealous’, but I call a spade a spade.”
Chilli jumped in and added that they got to the top without putting their “booby cakes” on display and now I suddenly want to put my mouth on a marzipan nip:
“We became the biggest girl selling group of all time with our clothes on and that says a lot. We could go around too with booby cakes out all day long.”
Just like her nipples, RiRi doesn’t keep her opinions about hos hating on her to herself. RiRi clapped back at T-Boz and Chilli by changing her Twitter background to a picture of T-Boz giving herself hand pasties.
And by twatting out this:
First of all, T-Boz needs to shut the hell up, because she’s shitting out lies and doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Sure it might’ve been easy for her to sell sex back in the day and it’s easy for RiRi to sell sex today, but it’s not easy for everyone to sell sex. Every time I try to sell sex (and at a good price, mind you), the only thing I get is a handful of lung chunks from my prospective john laughing at me trying to get some money for this worn out ass. So fuck yourself with those side-burn tails, T-Boz. Second of all, RiRi doesn’t need to use her nipples to sell her music. Her naturally gorgeous nightingale voice already does a good job of that:
So take that, T-Boz!
Since I’m a Canadian person, I don’t really know what “Memorial Day” is, but to the best of my knowledge, it’s about about honoring those who dedicated their lives to serving their country, and also eating burgers and getting drunk and making those Cool Whip American flag cakes. But I don’t think I remember the part where two assholes get into a fistfight a Fatburger, like rapper T.I. and boxer Floyd Mayweather Jr. did on Sunday in Las Vegas (although they do have the burger part of the Memorial Day equation, so I’ll give them that).
TMZ says the fight started after T.I.’s melted Mariah Carey wife Tameka “Tiny” Cottle posted a picture to Instagram of her and Floyd’s daughter, where she referred to her as “my new boo”. Apparently T.I. took this as a sign that Tiny was cozying up to Justin Bieber’s boo and that it disrespected him, so he went to confront Floyd (apparently his logic got a 3-day weekend too).
Obviously, this went about as well as you’d imagine an argument over an Instagram picture would go. It begins with Floyd telling T.I. to “control your bitch“, which turned into chairs being thrown around like balls in a ball pit at Chuck E Cheese, as seen here:
TMZ also has a video of what sort-of looks like T.I. going for Floyd’s neck, but it could also be two teenagers fighting over a Fatburger strawnana shake. Shortly after the fight broke out, the police were called, but T.I. had already left and Floyd was getting in to his car. A Fatburger employee was allegedly cut up during the fight, but they aren’t talking and refuse to press charges. DUH! If that’s how T.I. reacts to an Instagram picture of his wife posing with an 11-year-old, I can only imagine what would happen if you ratted him out to the cops.
And we need to start watching our backs around Instagram, because it’s quickly turning into the shady shit-disturbing bitch we all knew in high school who had dirt on everyone. “Oh yeah? Well according to Instagram, you had a pretty good time at the mall with Stacy last night!”