Tonight’s Met(h) Gala theme is “Fashion in an Age of Technology,” so brace yourselves for messes showing up looking like C-3PO’s side trick C-3PHO or like the worst dressed at a Tron-themed prom. That’s why I’m guessing that Carrie Underwood’s stylist got their events mixed up, because at last night’s 2016 American Country Countdown Awards (which I’m glad exists because 34,588 country music award shows aren’t enough) in L.A., she showed up wearing the underthings of a robot’s wedding dress. That dress looks like what would be born if the Tin Man and Glinda the Good Witch’s ball gown were able to fuck and make babies.
Carrie’s stylist must’ve thought that the best way to ~edgy~ her up is to dress her like Katy Perry performing in Disneyland’s Tomorrowland. Because besides that cyborg cotillion shit above, she also performed in a dress that made her look like a cocktail waitress at a bar/casino owned by a hardcore Star Wars nerd. I am all for tricks changing up their look, but Carrie Underwood needs to put her stylist on probation, because she just can’t pull off wearing robot wings as chichi covers.
Pics: Getty, Wenn.com
Oh, don’t mind Russell Wilson; he’s just been trying so hard not to stare into Ciara’s front no no hole that he’s fallen into some kind of catatonic state. I’m sure he’s fine.
If there’s one night of the year when a famous type can throw out everything they know about class, taste, style, common sense, and Spanx, it’s the Grammys. I’m pretty sure if you look on your invitation, the dress code is simply a picture of Toni Braxton from the 43rd Grammy Awards. Unfortunately, only a handful of people observed the dress code and came barely-draped in their tacky finest. The most elegant of which was Ciara, who showed up in a table runner held together with a bunch of ribbons and damn near flashed everyone her panty goodies.
I’m not sure why Ciara and Russell Wilson were at the Grammys, since she hasn’t been nominated for one in six years and he doesn’t sing, but I’m really glad they did. Otherwise, we might have missed out on Ciara’s gorgeously trampy formal nightgown thing. Ciara looks like a slutty Miami dancer (I’ll let you decide what kind of dancer) named Porquoi? who works for diamonds and really really wants to fuck Scarface, and I’m into it.
With that being said, if this is how Ciara dresses now, I can’t wait to see what kind of high-end classiness $15 million lawsuit winner Ciara shows up in next year.
Of course, there were a few close seconds in terms of pure class and elegance, like Joy Villa and the always stunning Z LaLa (who came dressed like an IKEA As-Is section version of Cher). On the other end of the spectrum was Dancia, who said “Fuck it” to sexy and covered herself in whatever she could grab from Nicki Minaj’s storage locker from 2010 and glue to her pink onesie.
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.
After what felt like a 16-month pregnancy, Carrie Underwood has finally given birth to the baby put inside her by her Canadian hockey husband Mike Fisher. Carrie announced the news that she gave birth to a baby boy on Instagram by posting a picture of a tiny baby hand with the caption: “Tiny hands and tiny feet…God has blessed us with an amazing gift! Isaiah Michael Fisher – born on February 27. Welcome to the world, sweet angel!”
I’m guessing she’s saving a real picture of her baby for whatever magazine cover she lands on proclaiming MY BABY JOY or MEET MY MIRACLE as her baby makes a confused “what is happening?” face.
Carrie is both a famous type and a country girl, and Mike is a famous type hockey dude, so I even though I didn’t really care one way or another, I just assumed they’d name their baby something like Waylon Windchimes Gordie. But they went with Isaiah Michael, which is surprisingly normal and boring for two famous types. Eh, good for them – I suppose not every baby that falls out of a famous vagina has to be a Sporaticus Alphonsé or a Parsley Williamsburg Turntable.
The Ghost of Lady Cassandra Future Nicole Kidman and her gorgeous middle-aged soccer mom-looking husband Keith Urban went to the CMAs last night, and for some reason this happened. No, I don’t know the circumstances surrounding Nicole trying to mount Keith from the back like a horny fawn-colored greyhound, and quite frankly – I don’t want to know. Instead, let’s assume she’s not actually trying to hump on her husband, but hiding behind him from the ghost of the haunted antique doll she stole that dress off of. Haunted attic-dwelling dolls don’t like it when you jack their shit, Nicole!
I know she’s going for some Little House on the Prairie Rachel Brown getting married shit, but it ends up looking more like stand-offish Oscar-winning Hollywood actress wearing a $2,000 nightgown. It’s like when I put on a blazer; I think I’m all business bitch chic, but everyone around me is like “Bitch you look like Cathy, yes from the comic strip“. Same goes for Nicole; I mean, lord love her, she’s trying, and it could always be worse; at least she’s not wearing a busted straw cowboy hat, right?
Unfortunately, Nicole didn’t get the memo that nobody else was doing county curtain couture this year. It was all head-to-toe David’s Bridal: Longer! Shinier! More Satin-y! Where’s the rhinestone-studded belt buckle worn as a choker? Where’s all the bedazzled crotch cut-offs? Come on guys, I thought you were country! Here’s more of Nicole and everyone else at the CMAs, including the usual, like Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, a knocked-up Carried Underwood, and my personal lord and savior Tami Taylor (HEY Y’ALL!):
Carrie Underwood used Labor Day to announce that in a few months she’ll be going into labor, because a fetus has moved into her womb. I tried to laugh at the cheesiness of her announcement, but I couldn’t, because up until I was 6 or 7 I really thought that Labor Day was a day to celebrate women birthing out babies. It’s a good thing I was totally wrong, because if I was right, we’d all be spending Labor Day making soap for the world’s labor queen Michelle Duggar. Oh, and by “6 or 7” I mean “a month ago.”
Carrie Underwears posted the above pic on Instagram today with this little note:
In honor of “Labor” Day, Ace & Penny would like to make an announcement. Their parents couldn’t be happier…
No, Carrie isn’t announcing that she’s getting another dog. Carrie’s husband Mike Fisher tweeted this:
We haven’t picked names yet but it’s looking like Fly is gonna fly. #boyorgirl #flyfisherf
That’s nice and everything, but something tells me that Fly Underwears Fisher is going to be an only child. Because after Carrie threw that picture up on Instagram, Ace and Penny snuck out of the house and caught a Peter Pan bus to the farthest nudist dog colony where they can freely live without having to worry about hos forcing them to wear embarrassing t-shirts like that. You can see the shame in their body language.
via CBS Sports
I know, how dare I compare singer Charli XCX and her messy pile of black mosquito netting to the exquisite goth glamour of shameless true blue slut Morticia Addams. I’m honestly hanging in my head in shame. And quite frankly, so should Charli XCX; the bar for pseudo-gothic skanky side-boob was set pretty high by Rose McGowan, so unless you’re planning on showing up in nothing but a thong and two spiders glued to your nipples, don’t even bother.
But because I believe in giving credit where credit’s due, Charli XCX gets a single clap of approval from me for at least trying to inject some trampy glamour into the 2014 Bill-bored Music Awardzzzz. The Tai to Iggy Azalea’s Cher must have had to check her invitation four times to see if she was at the right event, because everyone showed up to the Billboard Awards in Las Vegas in fancy-ass ball gowns and Grace Kelly-looking hair like it was the damn Oscars. Which is all kinds of “excuse you, bitch”-levels of wrong, because if any award show held in Las Vegas is on par with the Oscars, it’s the AVN Awards (DUH). Charl XCX is clearly wiser than her 21 years; she understood that the Billboard Awards are the Grammy Award’s nitrous-huffing burnout cousin and dressed appropriately.
Here’s more of Charli XCX wearing Hot Topic’s version of the slut dress (“Can you check in the back to see if we have any more of those Edgar Allan Poe-job dresses?”) at the Billboring Awardzzzz, as well as her partner in copyright infringement Iggy Azalea who chose classy over trashy (bad move, always choose trashy if you’ve got the ass for it), Jennifer Lopez showing us what the unedited pictures of her A.K.A. album cover looked like before she destroyed all evidence of their existence, the gas station bath salts Grace Kelly Kesha, Kanye’s old My Size Barbie Amber Rose in a pair of your Memaw’s solar shields, JOSH “oh, the things I would so would” GROBAN, and a super jacked-looking wig with guest (guest: Chrissy Teigen).
Fresh off from solving the Malaysia Airlines mystery (Yes, she solved it, officials just refuse to listen!), Detective Courtney Love temporarily stepped away from putting her magnifying glass over the mystery of Jimmy Hoffa’s missing body (she thinks she found it at the bottom of a bottle of Adderall) and took her ass to the Barclays Center in Brooklyn to speak at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. Nirvana was inducted into the Hall of Fame along with the original members of KISS, Hall & Oates, Peter Gabriel, The E Street Band and Yusuf Islam (aka Cat Stevens). When Courtney went up to the mic, the audience hugged her with a welcoming applause and by that I mean they booed the internet-bought fillers right out of her lips.
After the surviving members of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain’s family spoke (Frances Bean had the sicks and couldn’t go), Courtney took the mic (at the 7:41 mark), waited for the audience to finish hitting her with a tidal wave of booos and then spit out some shit about how all those guys are her family. Strangely enough, while Courtney was spitting out words, Dave Grohl did not jump on her back and bite her cheek off while hitting her in the head with his trophy for saying that he humped on Frances Bean once. Courtney hugged Dave and I was expecting to see the kind of cold, awkward hug a bitchy brat would give to the boy she kicked in the dick on the playground after her mom and the principal forced her to apologize, but it seemed kind of genuine. Or maybe I just got contact high from Courtney’s speech.
Courtney and Dave didn’t totally hate each other last night, but I’m sure Crazy Ass Courtney will be back to her old tricks today and will write an anonymous Tumblr post where she’ll accuse Dave of digging up Kurt Cobain’s grave to hump his bones. Yes, I know, Kurt Cobain was cremated, but this is Courtney Love we’re talking about.
Here’s some pictures from last night’s Hall of Fame Ceremony including some of Bonnie Raitt, Emmylou Harris, KISS and Hall & Oates (who should also be inducted into the Panty Creamer Hall of Fame).
Unless you just took two hits of gas station acid (if so, go directly to the nearest pay phone and call Iyanla Vanzant to fix your damn life) you shouldn’t be worried that it looks like Jewel’s chesticles are vibrating like a science fair project on sound waves. Jewel must have hired Kim Kardashian’s makeup artist, because she showed up to last night’s Academy of Country Music Awards with such thick contouring around her titty balls, it looked like someone had drawn them on with a brown Sharpie. Even the sloppiest drag queens are throwing her shade (she doesn’t need it; her tits are shaded enough).
Contouring your chichis is really tricky: too light and it looks like you’ve done nothing, too dark and it looks like you got titty-fucked by a filthy rando at Burning Man. But this is…I don’t know what this is. Jewel’s tits are contoured so hard, it looks like Titception – a tit within a tit within a tit. Dear Jewel: your contouring should never be so harsh that your cleavage ends up looking like a crotch shot.
While Jewel and her Picasso boobies took the trophy for Messiest Makeup, the title of Most Messiest was snatched away by a high class hooker-looking Shakira. Everything looked like it was found at a Laughlin, NV strip mall, from that bleached-out bus stop weave, to the dress that looks like the bastard child of a three-way between a butterfly stripper top, a pair of fence nets, and a yard of teal spandex. And the award for Most Kardashian went to human butterscotch sundae, Taylor Swift (but you can call her Kaylor Swifdashian) who I guess thought she was going to the opening of a Forever 21 store and stole an outfit from one of the Jenner girls.
Here’s more of Jewel, Shakira, and Taylor Jenner, along with some other fancily-dressed tricks at the ACMs last night in Las Vegas, including a very delicate in the face Keith Urban, Nancy O’Dell wearing a Mother of the Slut Dress Bride dress, and Lil’ Chick’n Nugget herself, Jamie Lynn Spears-Watson!
Last night, Carrie Underwood let all of us hating cunts know that we need the assistance of her designated driver and she’s praying for our dark, mean, shitty souls. Pray for me, Carrie! But I hope Carrie prays more convincingly than she did on The Sound of Music Live! or else my dark soul is fucked to hell. Carrie is right, though. Meanies hating on her performance are worse than the Nazis! Hating on Carrie Underwood is one of the worst sins you can commit. It says that in the B-sides of the Bible. I think it’s 0 BiteMe F:U-2.
And I do need Jesus, but his secretary tells me it’s going to be a while before he gets to me since he’s busy watching Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music to wash Carrie’s Maria from his mind.