Up until a few hours ago, the name Britt McHenry made my brain spit out question marks and if you asked me who she was I’d guess that she was the first one kicked off of The Bachelor last season. I still don’t really know who Britt McHenry is, but I do know that she’s a suspended reporter from ESPN and is one of those types who plays the “Do you know who I am, bitch?” card.
ESPN suspended reporter Britt McHenry after an edited video of her going full cunt on a tow truck lady popped up on LiveLeak. Busted Coverage says that Britt’s verbal slap down all started when her car got towed while she was eating at a restaurant in Arlington, VA. Britt went to pick up her car at Advanced Towing (which apparently has a reputation for being shifty as hell) and went in on the tow truck attendant. The tow truck lady, whose name is apparently Gina Michelle, let Britt know that she better be ready for her close-up, because she was on camera and ESPN Barbie couldn’t give a shit.
In so many words, Britt told Gina that she’s a toothless, uneducated, trailer trash fatty. Bitch is like Regina George SANS class, wit and hair that looks like it’s been conditioned with the jizz of the gods. The video is below. She would’ve come off a little bit more hardcore and threatening if she didn’t have that Whoville donut bun on her head.
Baby girl? Who in the hell does she think she is? Valerie Cherish?
The thing is, the tow truck lady might not have even known who Britt Michelle was (like 99% of the country). But because Britt Michelle just had to say, “I’m in the news, sweetheart,” Gina Michelle probably Googled her ass and decided to EXPOSE her by releasing this edited video of her greatest hits. That’s why nothing good comes from saying, “Do you know who I am?” 9.5 times out of 10, they’re not going to say back to you, “Oh my fuck, you’re Britt McHenry from ESPN! I am so sorry! Here’s your money back and I’ll have my guys hand wash your car before pulling it up front, baby girl.”
In an intense and stressful moment, I allowed my emotions to get the best of me and said some insulting and regrettable things. As frustrated as I was, I should always choose to be respectful and take the high road. I am so sorry for my actions and will learn from this mistake.
Oh please, baby girl. If you’re going to be a bitch, be a bitch and own being a bitch. None of this “stressful moment” shit. Own your bitchery. Or if you don’t want to do that, just say that video was a Funny or Die prank and hope that everyone believes you.
A couple of weeks ago, the University of Oklahoma hosted a Jack White show and before the show, the university newspaper, OU Daily, decided to print his contract and tour rider. The contract said that Jack White will make $80,000 or 90% of ticket sales (whichever is more) and his tour rider made it clear that he must have fresh guacamole made exactly to his specifications. On the rider was a recipe for Jack White’s guacamole, and yup, he likes it chunky. It didn’t seem that weird to me, because it’s not like his ass was asking for a new toilet or no brown M&Ms, but it got Jack White mad. During the show, Jack White slapped at OU Daily and he wasn’t done. Yesterday, he shat up a four million word rant against the media and their shameless click-bait tactics. Jack White might not be serious about his guac, but he’s serious about hos saying he’s serious about his guac.
Blind Item: Which “Incredibly Famous Young Woman” Does Stephen Amell Think Is An “Overly Sexualized Velociraptor”?
Stephen Amell, the dude from Arrow on The CW, had breakfast in L.A. last Tuesday with his wife Cassandra Jean and their 1-year-old daughter Mavi. Everything was all pancakes and rainbows until an “emotional terrorist” walked into the restaurant and Stephen had to clutch his pearls, cover his daughter’s eyes with a Bible and quickly rush his family to the nearest church to dip their eyeballs in holy water after seeing that dark-sided slutty dinosaur. Stephen wrote on Facebook (via ONTD) about how he left a restaurant because he didn’t want his daughter to make eye contact with an “overly sexualized velociraptor.”
Had breakfast on Tuesday in Los Angeles with my wife and daughter. In the midst of marveling at how she’s able to eat pancakes intended for fully grown humans while weighing less than 25 pounds… An incredibly famous young woman came in with her sort of (not really) famous boyfriend. I immediately tensed because I consider this person – as the father of a young girl – to be nothing short of an emotional terrorist. My wife senses this and asks me what’s wrong. I respond that we need to leave immediately for fear my kid and this overly sexualized velociraptor make eye contact even for the briefest of instances. I was dead serious. This is what it’s like to have a daughter.
Even though he said “overly sexualized velociraptor” and not “overly sexualized hillbilly chipmunk,” I’m going to guess Miley Cyrus and Patrick Schwarzenegger?
Overreact: This is how you do it. Dude needs to be fitted for a crown, because he’s the fragile dramatic queen of fragile dramatic queens. I don’t think his 1-year-old even know who Miley Cyrus is. Besides, it’s not like Miley was on top of a table fucking herself with a rolled-up pancake as Patrick poured maple syrup all over her naked body. (Or was she? You never know with Miley.) Nothing is really worth abandoning delicious pancakes for.
I mean, if Billy Ray was with Miley, then I’d totally understand Stephen’s reaction. Because no child should have to look at the possum carcass on Billy Ray’s head.
And “overly sexualized velociraptor” is my new favorite dinosaur. I hope it’s in the next Jurassic Park movie.
Sometime actor and whoop-a-trick grand champion Olivier Martinez may find his ass being investigated by the LAPD again after he attacked a dude with an empty car seat at LAX yesterday afternoon. I know, this is so out of character for Olivier Martinez, because he’s always been known to be a sweet, serene and calm soul who could tame a rabid hyena with his soothing touch. Olivier is practically human Valerian and medical professionals have said that if you’re having a severe panic attack and don’t have any meds on you, just suck on Olivier’s peen because he cums liquid Valium. He’s that calm.
While looking like a hitchhiker-murdering serial killer from the 70s, Olivier went through LAX yesterday with Halle Berry, their son Maceo and her daughter Nahla. Halle held onto Maceo and Olivier held onto a car seat as they walked passed a bunch a paparazzi. LAX Airport Police tell TMZ that at one point the paps got really close to Olivier and his family and so he responded by using the car seat as a battering ram to knock a trick over. TMZ has video of Olivier shoving what looks like an airport employee to the floor. The airport employee complained about stomach pain, so the paramedics were called and he was treated at the scene before he was shuffled off to the hospital. On a scale from Kristen Stewart to Bjork, Olivier Martinez’s act of airport rage falls somewhere in the middle.
In Olivier’s defense (I hate myself for typing that), the airport employee he attacked was trying to take pictures of the baby. TMZ has a different video of the airport employee joining the pack of paps by recording video of Halle and her family with his phone. When I saw the first video, I let out a “Bitch is gonna get sued.” When I saw the second video, I really let out a “Bitch is gonna get sued,” because that airport employee might need some cash since he’ll probably be out of a job soon.
And since Halle and Olivier are getting some bad press, expect TMZ to post a story from an “inside source” who claims that Gabriel Aubry is a member of West Hollywood’s KKK chapter and once murdered an LAX employee and used bones from the dead body to make a car seat which he made Nahla sit in several times.
Today is a good day for me, because I found out that I no longer have to smuggle Cuban cigars from Mexico in my asshole. (Actually, maybe that’s not such a good thing since that’s the only time I really get any action.) But Madge is not having a good day, because today she found out that she leaked all over the Internet.
Madge’s new album, which is supposedly title Unapologetic Bitch, isn’t scheduled to come out until next year, but this morning someone spread the tracks all over the Internet. When one of Madge’s unreleased (and possibly unfinished) songs “Rebel Heart” leaked into ears last month, she screamed some shit about how she had been violated as a human and artist. She Hulk’d out on Instagram. So when a bunch of tracks got dropped on the Internet today, I expected her veins to pop and her skin to turn green before she overturned cars and ripped out electrical lines. At first, Madge kept calm and told her fans that the leaked songs are unfinished demos that were stolen a long time ago and thanked them for not listening to the tracks. But I guess Madge realized that being calm and reasonable isn’t going to get her as much attention as possible, so she later freaked out on Instagram in a Kanye-style rant (sans ALL-CAPS) which she later deleted.
Madge pretty much thinks that Olivia Benson and the FBI need to get involved, because this is an act of rape and terrorism. Every government division needs to stop EVERYTHING they’re doing (examples: investigating real rape and investigating real terrorism) and devote all their time to finding out who leaked old demos that Madge isn’t putting on her album anyway. This is a priority!
Madge’s current boy toy really needs to take a Valium so the next time she sucks his blood, she’ll chill the hell out. This seems to happen to Madge a lot. So either she needs to get a new STUNT QUEEN stunt to keep her name out there or she needs to strap an industrial-strength pair of Depends over her hard drive to stop the leaks.
Shades of Jennifer Lawrence’s mob of crazy fans were painted outside of The Daily Show in NYC last night when autograph seekers and Brangeloonies lost their minds over being close to Dame St. Angie Jolie. It’s like they were Black Friday shoppers and she was a 20% flat-screen TV.
If you really want your ear holes to be stabbed with the sound of paps and Brangeloonies screaming for their idol, click here to see and hear the video. Jesus has postponed his second coming, because he know he won’t ever get a reaction like that and that would be really embarrassing for him. St. Angie’s four bodyguards tried to keep the craziness back, but at one point the craziness got event crazier and one of her fans complained about having a panic attack. TMZ says that St. Angie heard her loyal subject’s cries of panic and commanded her bodyguards to save the woman. Once the disciple in a wolf hat was pulled to safety, St. Angie soothed her nerves, signed an autograph and took a selfie with her. The woman in the wolf hat was later heard telling her friends, “Now I know how Peter felt when Jesus saved him!”
I know most of you shameless hussy whores don’t go to church, but if you do go to church this weekend for some reason and wonder why all the bibles are missing from the pew pockets, there’s a good explanation. Every bible from every church has been removed and will be put back once this story of St. Angie’s tale of saintly selflessness is added to it.
Before St. Angie rescued one of her fans from the pits of crazy, she sat down with Jon Stewart. Jon Stewart, who was in Playing By Heart with her, pretty much revealed himself as the captain of the Manhattan chapter of Brangeloonies by slobbering out words of praise about her and flirting with her hard. Jon ended their interview by saying, “I gotta tell you from the moment I met you, it’s got to be 20 years ago, [I said to myself] ‘This person has talent coming out of all different areas.‘” St. Angie just giggled and batted her eyes at him.
Well, there goes Jon Stewart’s marriage of 14 years. St. Angie can wreck a home just with the bat of an eye. That legendary home wrecker.
You know that somewhere in Hollywood a studio executive is looking at that picture and thinking to themselves, “And there’s our cast for The Bodyguard remake!” And you probably didn’t read that line, because as soon as you stared into the eyes of the soul siphoner in the red Mickey Mouse sweater, her glare knocked your eyeballs out of your face before crawling into your head through your sockets to eat your soul. It’s a weird feeling, but you get used to it. I have that feeling every time I watch Are You The One? on MTV.
Fart aficionado Jennifer Lawrence, did The Late Show with David Letterman last night to promote that Hunger Games shit. Sometimes celebrity types stop to sign autographs and take pictures before and after the show. JLaw didn’t stop beforehand because she was running late. After the show, JLaw walked out to a sea of crazies who lost their minds for her. Those crazy bitches. It’s just Jennifer Lawrence, America’s cooler older cousin who is one of the guys and loves farts and weed. It’s not like it was Richard Simmons making his long-awaited grand return to the spotlight. That crowd acted like cats in heat. Get the Q-Tip and get it together.
When JLaw started signing autographs, her fans, autograph seekers and the paps turned up the crazy and knocked down a barricade. JLaw ran from that scene faster than an ex runs from me when he sees me at Target (yes, this has happened recently and the wound is still raw). The messiness is below (with a bonus appearance from Golden Voice!):
If you open up your ears wide at around the 0:55 mark, you can hear someone scream something like “Fucking cunt!” I guess Goopy Paltrow is in NYC right now.
Or maybe they booed JLaw because they heard her singing.
Here’s JLaw running for her life outside of Letterman and at Good Morning America today with the dudes from Hongray Games.
If I could, I’d make a green bean and French’s onion casserole for all of you Cumberbitches out there as an offer of my condolences, because I know it’s a heartbreaking and sad-filled day for you and your vagina (who is probably wearing a black lace coochie veil right now). As you already know from the loud sound of the Cumberbitches wails mixed in with the sound of the lizard kingdom letting out a million celebratory chirps for their king, Bonnebell Combover is one hundred percent engaged to his girlfriend Sophie Hunter (or as some of the Cumberbitches call her: That Ostrich-Faced Homely Harlot Trollop Whore Who’s Lucky That Benny Needs A Stunt For His Oscar Campaign Ugh I Hate That Bitch Tramp!!!!####121!!!!!).
38-year-old B. Cum and 36-year-old Sophie announced their engagement in the “Forthcoming Marriages” section of the Times and that might seem like some posh Downton Abbey shit, but I expected their engagement to be announced by a messenger reading from a scroll in the middle of town square. Here’s their little announcement (which some Cumberbitches have already written in black mascara tears on their pillows before punching it repeatedly while screaming):
The engagement is announced between Benedict, son of Wanda and Timothy Cumberbatch of London, and Sophie, daughter of Katharine Hunter of Edinburgh and Charles Hunter of London.
Benihana Cameraphone and Sophie Hunty, who’s an actress and theater director, met for the first time when she was eating a salad in a garden and he crawled onto her leg to beg her for a piece of wet lettuce. It’s been true love ever since. No, they’ve been friends for years and started having hot alien lizard human sex ever since. This is what Sophie Hunter looks like if you need to put a face to the object of the Cumberbitches’ RAGE!
B. Cums and Sophie Hunty didn’t say when they’re getting married, but I’m sure it’ll be right after molting season so his skin can look extra fresh and shiny. And don’t feel too bad, Cumberbitches. Once the wedding pictures come out, you can paste your face over Sophie Hunty’s face and put the picture next to her voodoo doll on your mantel.
Phoebe Price must’ve spent the night in and didn’t grace the paps’ lenses with her star presence, because they had to settle for taking pictures of the rapping Double Trouble action figure Iggy Azalea buying eggs at a grocery store in L.A.Iggy wasn’t having it.
The YouTube description says that Iggy and her sidekick/assistant/friend were buying eggs and frozen turkeys to stuff her ass with when they caught a paparazzo taking pictures of them. The pap claims that Iggy and her yappy Yorkie of a friend put him in a chokehold and spit on him. Iggy shouldn’t do that shit for free, because I’m sure some sucio freak out there would pay top dollar for an Australian lady rapper with a stress ball ass to choke and spit on them.
When they got to the parking lot, the pap screamed, “Do you have AIDS? Maybe I got Ebola,” because Iggy spit on him. Iggy and her friend, Scrappy Doo, screamed back at the pap and told him that they hope he has Ebola and dies. Basically, Iggy and the pap blew sweet words of love at each other.
The equally-as-crazy pap screamed at Iggy to go live in Nebraska if she doesn’t want to deal with paps. That’s my new go to response for ho’s who complain about living in L.A. “Ugh, do you know how long it took me to get from Sunset to Wilshire?” Bitch, go live in Nebraska! “Ugh, can you believe that Trader Joe’s was all out of peppermint bark?” Bitch, go live in Nebraska!
Iggy and her shrieking hyena of a friend went after the pap some more before disappearing into the night. Iggy later threw up some shit on Instagram about how she’s the Britney Spears of 2014.
You know, Iggy could’ve easily made that pap scat. She should’ve put on her “rap accent” and screamed at him, “AH’M DA RILLEST! AH’M DA BADDESS BITCH!” He would’ve dropped his camera and ran for his mommy, because Iggy is that hard.
Here’s Iggy looking like a Cirque du Soleil reject at the ACL Music Festival in Austin on Saturday.
Seen above looking frazzled, worn out and tired after spending 10 long minutes telling the weekday morning chef how to properly make a quinoa, flaxseed and cloudberry breakfast tart for Apple and Moses (the plight of a working mother), Goopy Paltrow hosted a Democratic National Committee Fundraiser in the backyard of the Haus of GOOP in Brentwood last night. When she wasn’t GOOPing in her $900 French silk chonies over President Obama, she continued to be the Norma Rae of our time by fighting for the working class!
Buzzfeed says that 250 guests, including Julia Roberts and Bradley Whitford, paid anywhere from $1,000 to $32,400 to watch President Obama speak. Actually, I don’t think anybody “watched” him speak since their eyeballs rolled onto their freshly baked wood-burned pizzalets when Goopy Paltrow mouth farted out her usual shit while introducing him. Ever since Goopy got an ocean full of diarrhea dropped on her for saying that she, a famous millionaire, has it so much harder than regular 9 to 5 working moms, she’s been pedaling hard on the damage control cycle. While introducing Obama last night, Goopy pulled a Goopy. via the NYDN
“Paltrow cited sustainable energy efforts as well as Obama’s push for equal pay, which she called ‘Very important to me as a working mother.’”
Bitch always has to find a way to GOOP it up. She was fine until she threw in “as a working mother.” Goopy really knows the trials and tribulations of your average working mother. I mean, Goopy has to shoot one whole film a year to pay all the au pairs, chefs, chauffeurs, tutors, nutritionists, acupuncturists and butlers who take care of her two children. The other day, Goopy had to tell her contractor to do the pool in Capri in Carrara marble instead of crushed diamond tiles because she has to cut the budget. Goopy is barely making ends meet! Do something about this, Obama!
Goopy then gushed from every orifice as she flirted with Obama. Buzzfeed says these words came out of her mouth:
- “I am one of your biggest fans, if not the biggest.”
- “It would be wonderful if we were able to give this man all of the power that he needs to pass the things that he needs to pass.”
- “You’re so handsome that I can’t speak properly.”
Um, but does she ever speak properly? Since the sight of Obama makes Goopy almost speechless, we now know that the quickest way to get her to shut the fuck up is to show her a picture of Obama.