On last year’s cover of Vanity Fair’s Hollywood Issue were the likes of Jane Fonda, Viola Davis and Cate Blanchett looking like you at the DMV when the number in your hand says “198” and they just called number “10.” Their faces told a story and that story was, “I am bored but I also want to fuck a bitch up.” And for this year’s cover, Vanity Fair did what they’ve done a million times before: they gave us bored pretty youngins’ in $10,000 gowns.
Saint Laurent’s show at The Hollywood Palladium in L.A. was last night and I guess the invitation read: Come dressed as a strung-out performer in Florida’s Meth Circus. I’m also guessing that Justin Bieber and Lady CaCa were the only ones who followed that dress code because DAMN. Gaga looks like a drunk, clingy auntie who is trying to relive her glory days by wearing one of her favorite outfits from the 80s and Justin Bieber looks like her messy teen nephew who is impatiently waiting for her to pass out into a drunken coma so he can go into her purse and steal enough money to buy a baggy of the bad shit.
If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if Nancy Spungen played Susan in Desperately Seeking Susan, wonder no more. If you’ve ever asked yourself, “Hmmm, I wonder what it would look like if Harpo Marx played Riff Raff, Columbia AND Magenta in a community theater production of Rocky Horror Picture Show?“, you don’t have to ask yourself that question anymore. Lady Gaga answered both of those questions at the Saint Laurent show last night when she showed up in a sequined blazer that screamed, “affordable Michael Jackson impersonator,” makeup that screamed, “cracked out Casper the Friendly Ghost,” and a wig that looked like a pile of uncooked curly fries.
Gaga, Justin Bieber and his struggle stache managed to achieve the impossible, though. They managed to be the messiest messes at an event that Courtney Love was at. Because when Courtney Love showed up looking clean and hot, I doubt the door person said to her, “Um, no loitering! No loitering,” like they did with the Biebs and Gaga.
So Gaga and Justin Bieber should give themselves a slow clap for that.
And here’s a million more pictures from last night’s show including some of the hotness personified that is the Kravitz family and American-Canadian fresh drew drop Pamela Anderson with her son Brandon Lee who used an entire jar of hair grease to give you “Young Elvis.”
Fancy fashion type and Harper’s Bazaar’s Global Fashion Director Carine Roitfeld styled and picked out women for her “Singular Beauties” spread, which was supposed to pay homage to the diversity of women. But the only thing I see it paying homage to is fuckery. Case in point: Gabourey Sidibe’s picture.
I don’t know if Gabourey is saying, “STOP IN THE NAME OF FOOLERY,” or if she’s just saying “Stop!“, but they should’ve definitely listened to her, because this picture should’ve never made it out of the camera and should’ve died by the hand of the delete button. I don’t even know what’s going on in that picture. It’s like the weirdest game of charades ever. Karl Lagerfeld shot all of the pictures in Carine’s spread, so now it all makes sense. Carine and Kunty Karl probably told Gabourey to show up dressed like a volunteer theater usher. Then they put a red leather jacket (aka the only thing they had in her size) on her and when that didn’t work, Kunty Karl sighed and screamed at his minions just to throw a curtain over her and be done with it. Kunty Karl wanted to get Gabourey out of his sight, because just like food, the living and happiness, fat people are his rivals. Getting Kunty Karl to photograph a fat person is like getting Paula Deen to cater a Black Panther luncheon. It’s not going to end well and it didn’t.
And here’s a few more of Harper’s “Singular Beauties” spread (click here to see them all). It really is paying homage to fuckery, because ScarJo made the cover of Harper’s Bazaar Australia and they declared her the “modern Marilyn.” Yes, they said that and they said it during the anniversary of Marilyn’s death! Harper’s really needs to switch dealers, because the stuff they’re snorting is the wrong stuff.
Dakota Fanning, Kellan Lutz, Dr. Blossom, Ashley Greene, Stephenie Meyer, Shar Jackson (??????), Nikki Reed and Taylor Lautner were all flattened to the carpet at The Twatlight Saga: Breaking Hymen – Part 2 premiere in Los Angeles last night after 2-year-old Elle Fanning stomped on all of them. Little Elle Fanning barely learned how to walk by herself like four days ago and she’s already mastered the art of stomping in fucked up sandals made of plastic bricks, pink ribbon and chrome leather. Elle Fanning is practically a child, so I can’t give her any hate for wearing orthopedic sandals for geishas. Millionaire movie star children don’t know any better, because everyone around them will lie to them and tell them they look good. They usually don’t have a grandma around who will grab them by the hair and refuse to let them leave the house looking like a damn fool. If they had a grandma like that, they’d fire her ass for talking back.
These ugly ass shoes have a serious identity crisis. They don’t know if they want to be platform flip-flops, a Jenga tower, Getas on growth hormones or moon shoes for My Little Ponies. The only thing they do know is that they want to be as ugly as possible. When Prada put this nasty shit on the runway, they paired them with rubber socks! It’s kind of funny that Prada paired these sandals with socks that can double as lady condoms, because there’s no way you’re getting laid if you wear that nasty shit on your feet. Wearing these sandals is foot abuse in more ways than one.
Now that Elle Fanning has brought them to the mainstream, I’m sure snotty rich kids will start wearing them everywhere. That’s not a bad thing, actually. Cackling after seeing a brat fall in ridiculous shoes IS my favorite pastime.
YES it is two Lohan posts back to back with another sprinkling of politics because annoying the shit out of people is fun!!! And then there’s that slow news day angle, and I refuse to report on that Justin Bieber stolen video Twitter shit. Even a ho has standards.
Mitt Romney can finally quit lying awake at 3:00 am, clutching his teddy and staring at his ceiling tiles through streaming tears, wondering if he will get the oh-so-important nod of approval by Lindsay Lohan. The election gods have answered your prayers Mitt, and you have LiLo’s support and vote. Probably, possibly, maybe. Mitt’s camp must be thrilled.
E! Online (I know) says Lindsay was on the pink carpet at Mr Pink’s Ginseng Drink Event (sounds like some really vigorous lesbian action, HOT) and while she was struttin’ that ass she was asked who she was going to dangle her chad for.
She said “I just think employment is really important right now. So, as of now, Mitt Romney. As of now.” Then she said “It’s a long story.”
It’s nice to see Lindsay finally coming to terms with her future employment options and getting real about something. I guess.
What I mean by that is that somebody should’ve snatched that carpet sample off of his head, because it is dreadful. Anyway, for the first time since everybody learned about the terrifying adventures of John Travolta’s man finger-eating whirlpool anus, he put on a brave wig and came out (not like that) to honor Shirley MacLaine last night. No, John wasn’t presenting Shirley with the Sally’s Beauty Supply Lifetime Achievement Award in Lace Front-Wearing. Shirley was the recipient of the AFI Life Achievement Award and John was there to honor her. I really don’t know who’s wig game is worse: Shirley or John’s. Shirley’s looks like it’s slowly shifting off of her head and John’s wig is laid like a sod square.
The likes of Meryl Streep, Dakota Fanning, Mena Suvari, Melanie Griffith and Jennifer Aniston thought to themselves, “That is such a realistic wax figure of a Vulcan Dracula” as John Travolta spit out nice words about Shirley. I appreciate that John is showing us what Eddie Munster would look like if he grew into his widow’s peak, but damn. Bitch needs to pull out his payroll sheet and erase the name of the ho who keeps buying his wigs at Leonard Nimoy’s yard sale.
And if you were about to announce the countdown for the inevitable “Angie’s fame whoring leg vs. Aniston’s fame whoring leg” battle, save your bref.