The Billboard Music Awards were last night and if the red carpet is any indication, it lived up to it’s name because most stars looked as bored as can be. With very few exceptions, most of the night’s looks were uninspired and devoid of whimsy. Nick Jonas (above) looks like he just showed up for his shift at Applebees and still needs to go get his flair from his locker and take a quick shot at the bar before getting started. He’ll be with you in a minute, ok?
This makes me support the “Free the Nipple” movement now more than ever. Why can’t the ladies engage in this sort of vain tomfoolery?
Here’s Dancing with the Stars’ hot stepper Derek Hough out shopping in Studio City, CA. Can we assume thermometers were exploding that day and flinging mercury everywhere? The incredible heat must have been making Derek incredibly thirsty. He’s walking around with no shirt on! But no one else is! Does the west coast not have that “no shirt, no shoes, no service” deal with their stores?
It’s just fine for Derek to show off his Teutonic body game for the paps. But I do it over at the mall and I have two cops tazing me in front of the Gap Outlet. Discrimination!
Check out more pics of Derek and his chest engaging in retail therapy in the gallery below.
Julianne and Derek Hough organized a jogging event at a Los Angeles park yesterday. There was also a video being shot. It’s something they do when they’re not dancing with clearance aisle celebrities, starring in unnecessary remakes, bearding Kardashian enablers, and making poor choices in Halloween costumes. Wow, Derek doesn’t really do much, does he? Just dances, goes for a shirtless run, repeats. Sis is out there striving to appear in every terrible film she can to keep her personal brand going, and he just has to flash his nips once in awhile to stay relevant. That’s sexism. Wait, did I just refer to Burlesque as terrible? I did, because it’s really hard to just watch the scenes with Cher and Cam Gigandet’s buttcheeks without running into Xtina.
Enjoy a slew of Hough pics in the gallery below.
For those of you Derek Hough stans out there, to moisten up your day, here’s some pics of him running topless yesterday in Studio City. He was running for something called “Move Interactive.” His day consisted of leading a fitness class, taking a 2 mile run with his fitness and dance students to a dance studio and then leading a dance class for 30 minutes. My fupa is in awe of people like Derek. Imagine being motivated? Motivation and I are not friends. I’m pretty sure I was a broadcast ass on the nightly news when they ran one of those “America is so fucking fat” stories. I’m ok with it. There’s a certain pride that goes with being first mate on the Chips Ahoy! boat.
Thanks to the fact that the temperature in L.A. was about as hot as a newly-released fart lingering in the Heat Miser’s chonies, everybody who went to the Emmys yesterday probably made squishy sounds when they walked because of the pools of sweat jelly that formed on their crotch areas. Well, those pools of sweat jelly were definitely washed away by a wave of crotch cream when Adrien Brody sashayed onto the carpet looking like sex double-wrapped in smarmy and dipped in Brut.
Adrien and his signature douche pucker were at the Emmys, because he was nominated for Houdini and also because kissing history-making actresses at award shows is his thing. As I said earlier, Olivia Culpo nearly fainted on the red carpet, and she claims the heat did her in. But I bet she really got the faints when Adrien Brody flipped his glorious mane as he walked on by. Adrian looked like the kind of high-priced gigolo who takes his old lady clients to the opera, fingers them in the box (that line has two meanings) and makes them smell his fingers afterward. Swooooooon.
Here’s a million pictures of some of the dudes (including Damian Lewis, Joe ManJello and David Oyelowo) at the Emmys, but who cares about any of them. The only thing your eyes need is Adrien Brody giving you “stache-free Yanni in a fun house mirror” hotness.
Well, if it isn’t the PR train, right on time! No – that’s unfair. I’m sure this is a totally real relationship that wasn’t cooked up in the office of two half-drunk publicists named Carol and Sheila. On Monday, Kate Hudson’s people announced that her snatch was saying sayonara to her baby daddy Matt Bellamy after 4 years and one kid together, which was followed shortly by the rumor that she had moved on to toe-tapping human snapping turtle Derek Hough. And now UsWeekly is saying that it’s time to think of a nickname for these two (Kough? Deraté?), because they were caught making out in public.
A source (a confused Goldie after waking up from a 2pm wine nap) claims to have spotted Derek and Kate kissing at a restaurant on Friday night. Of course, there are no pictures of it happening, because we all know that if Derek the Dancing Machine spots a camera, he’s programmed to stop whatever he’s doing and bust out some sweet moves to make your granny swoon. But even if there were pictures, I’d still scream FAAAAKE! because a speedy slut like Kate would never waste time making out with a dude. Now, if that source claimed to have seen Kate and Derek fucking at the table as Kate motioned to the waiter that she’d like more bread, then I’d believe it’s real.
And to be honest, I’m all for Kate and Derek getting together, if only because I want them to have a kid and name it something super dramatic. Kate likes to give her kids alliterative comic book-sounding names (Ryder Robinson, Bingham Bellamy), so my money is on “Harvey Hough”. Harvey Hough: plucky reporter by day, ballroom-dancing superhero by night!