Jamie Dornan Will Get An Oscar For Playing Christian Grey, So Says Fifty Shades Of Grey’s Screenwriter
Fifty Shades of Grey is going to win Oscars in the same universe where Parasite Hilton is going to sweep the Grammys, Tori Spelling is going to sweet the Emmys, Meryl Streep is going to sweep the Razzies, I’m going to win a Pulitzer for my dedication to writing about dick cheese and Lindsay Lohan is going to win something besides another court date. But Fifty Shades of Shit’s screenwriter, Kelly Marcel, thinks that at the 2016 Oscars, 2015′s Best Actress Oscar winner, January Jones for The Mother Theresa Story, will say the words, “And the Oscar goes to JAMIE DORNAN,” as
hell freezes over it starts snowing at Coachella and pigs fly the Kardashians sprout wings. Either Kelly Marcel was just joking or she’s been in the Fifty Shades of Shit world for so long that she’s gone crazy.
E! News says that Kelly took part in a Q&A for DBA’s “An Evening in the Writer’s Room” series in Hollywood last week and she talked about how hard (I bet) it was writing sex scenes for Fifty Shades. Kelly says that she had to describe everything and had to get Anastasia Aluminum Foil to say, “You are my popsicle,” to Christian Grey. I don’t know what that means, but if Christian’s dick melts in Ana’s cooch when he sticks it in, she shouldn’t admit that out loud, because it’s not a compliment. Kelly says that they played that scene really well and Jamie Dornan is really good at playing it hard and soft. I don’t know if she means that he’s really good at being vulnerable and rough or if she means that his dick emotes emotion when it’s hard and when it’s asleep.
Marcel laughed and said, “She says that, ‘You are my popsicle.’ That line went in, it’s genius. They apparently did that scene great. Apparently Jamie is great at being soft and hard at the same time. Which is hard to do for an actor! He’s going to get an Oscar!”
But how does someone translate a “Christian Grey popsicle” on-screen? Marcel explained that scenes had to be very specific and descriptive in the script, adding that she couldn’t just write, “They made love” and move on, making things awkward sometimes.
“I had to actually describe everything! It was really embarrassing when you’re doing studio notes around the table with 12 people,” she said.
If anybody’s going to get an Oscar for Fifty Shades of Mom Jizz it better be the tampon, because it probably gives the most multi-layered performance in that shit.
And if Jamie Dornan does win an Oscar for Fifty Shades, all cameras should focus on Leonard DiCaprio as he deflates when the last bubble of hope slips out of his ass.
I’m not sure why, but I just pictured that floppy tit speaking in a charming Cockney accent. “Allo luv! Fancy meeting you ‘ere! Don’t mind me, just ‘avin a wee snooze in the sun before Coronation Street.”
Mermaids everywhere officially hung up their seashell bras and retired today after Lindsay Lohan was spotted strolling a beach in Ibiza looking like a sloppy-titted sea siren. And by sea siren, I mean she set off the siren that alerts beach visitors that the sea has been contaminated by toxic self-tanner sludge and random clumps of orange hair and the beach will be closed until further notice. No! She really does look like a mermaid; like Ariel, if Ariel sold her voice to Ursula for two baggies of coke instead of two legs.
Seeing the Apricot Ashtray slithering around the beaches of Ibiza with her floppy freckled pancakes hanging out makes me feel a lot of things (queasy, nauseous, dry heave-y) but mostly it makes me feel sorry for Ibiza. First Orlando Bloom gets into a dramatic douche fight Justin Bieber in a nightclub, and now Lindsay Lohan is assaulting eyes by serving up a heaping helping of sloppy side boob in one of White Oprah’s trashy old stretched-out Body Glove bathing suits from the 80s. Poor Ibiza; when did you become the Florida of Europe?
And speaking of Florida, apparently there are people in Ibiza who are dumb enough to let Lindsay operate a jet ski. It probably took her all of 10 minutes before she whipped out her phone, started texting her dealer, and rear-ended a dolphin. Then when the cops came to arrest her, she tried to blame it on a starfish. Wait, can you get a DUI on a jet ski? I’m sure Lindsay will find a way.
Pics: Fame Flynet
Arya Stark From Game Of Thrones Slaps At British Airways For Not Letting Her Into The Business Class Lounge
Teenagers really have it the worst and rich, famous teenagers have it worser than worse, because they’re used to hearing “yes” most of the time, but every now and again some evil torturer has to tell them “no” and being told “no” when you’re a famous teenager is worse than getting shot at during war (that line is sponsored by a teenage Goopy Paltrow). 17-year-old Maisie Williams from Game of Thrones knows what I’m talking about, because over the weekend she suffered through some real struggle when she tried to sashay into British Airways’ business class lounge and was denied at the door because she’s under the age of 18. British Airways told The Daily Mail that kids under the age of 18 aren’t allowed into the business class lounge without a parent, because there’s a beautiful, unattended, self-serve open bar in there and we all know that teenagers would guzzle all of it down if they could, because they’re greedy.
Maisie and her luxurious Woolly Bear Caterpillar brows didn’t take their plight to the United Nations since their human rights were obviously violated. But Maisie did jump onto Twitter and yelled at British Airways, because she, a Business Class-paying Business Class citizen, should be able to stand on Business Class soil.
So Maisie Williams, a celebrity, was denied entrance into the British Airways business class lounge and nothing was done about it? I take back everything I said about Kanye West. He was absolutely, one hundred percent right as usual! Celebrities are treated exactly the way black people were in 1960s America!
Jason Segel and Cameron Diaz’s new movie Sex Tape has 33% on Rotten Tomatoes and critics said in so many words that watching Verne Troyer’s sex tape during the day while sober is a less painful and more exciting experience. So Jason and Cameron should probably be out there selling the shit out of their turkey turd of a movie by smiling, hugging, signing stuff and giving out quick handies and rim jobs. But Radar says that at a screening in NYC on Monday night (pictures below), Jason and Cameron treated their fans like pieces of trash and ran out of there without signing autographs. I was going to say that maybe Jason and Cameron are embarrassed by their crap movie and wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but she showed her face publicly after making What Happens In Vegas and he showed his face after making Gulliver’s Travels, so shame is not something they know.
Radar’s “eyewitness” says that before the screening at the Regal Union Square Theater, a handful of fans asked Jason and Cameron for pictures and autographs. Cameron and Jason treated their fans the same way Kate Gosselin treats her kids. Cameron and Jason told their fans to get the hell away and leave them alone.
“It’s not like the fans were following them at a hotel or restaurant, it was a film premiere with fans. Both of their attitudes were disgusting. When a 20-something fan asked Jason for a photo as he left the premiere he said, ‘No’ and literally slammed the car door right in the fan’s face. People gasped, that’s how bad it was.
And when Cameron was spotted, she also refused the fans telling them, ‘If I did it for you I’d have have to do it for everyone’ before storming off. “Cameron was as unfriendly as can be and it was really disappointing. And Jason was downright nasty to his fans. There were literally only four of five fans waiting and asking for them when they left. It was not a huge crowd and would have taken less time for them to sign an autograph or take a picture rather than giving a lecture about not doing it.”
People gasped? Jason slapped a car door in a fan’s face? They should’ve filmed that and released it instead of Sex Tape, because that scene sounds more thrilling and hilarious than any scene in their movie. I’d pay a slice of my weekly weed money to see Jason Segel dramatically scream, “STOP SWARMING ME! LET ME BREATHE! LEAVE ME ALONE! LARGAAAAAAAAAAATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” in front of two people who are looking at him like, “What?”
If anybody at that screening deserved to be yelled at it’s Cameron Diaz for thinking it’s okay to dress like the Too Close For Comfort wall:
And the Too Close For Comfort wall wore it better, bitch. Like I even had to say that.
Seen above with four friends he really relates to on an intellectual level, the mutated dirty tampon Adam Levine was on Howard Stern yesterday and Howard brought up Adam’s appearance on Lindsay Lohan’s list of famous and famous-ish slam pieces. The first rule of The Lindsay Lohan Fuck Piece Club is that you NEVER EVER admit to being in The Lindsay Lohan Fuck Piece Club. Because if you ever say the words, “I boned Lindsay Lohan,” the CDC will drop from the sky, drag you into a quarantine tent and boil your skin in hot ammonia for 30 days before tagging you and releasing you back into the wild. If you screw LiLo, you keep that between you, her and the new STD you two made while rubbing your skank bodies together. James Franco keeps denying that he ever stuck his douche stick in LiLo’s freckled plate of Hamburger Helper and now Adam Levine is denying the same thing.
“That’s not true. I did not have sexual intercourse with Lindsay Lohan.
When Howard asked Adam why dudes won’t admit to screwing LiLo, he dribbled out this nonsensical dingle:
That’s because I think we’re being truthful about that very specific thing. I can fucking see it on the paper, I’m getting much better at this!”
I don’t know what that means and I don’t think Adam Levine knows what that means. The burning sensation in his peen lips reminding him that he probably did screw Lindsay Lohan messed with his brains and he shat out a word salad without the dressing. You know, if a jar of old kitchen grease had tits, Adam Levine would fuck that jar full of old kitchen grease. He’d probably do it if it didn’t have tits, so I’m sure he did bone LiLo. But like every dude who bones LiLo, he’s never going to admit it unless he runs out of money, needs medical attention and wants to get to the front of the line at the free clinic.
Adam also did an interview with GQ where he was asked how he feels about being called a douchebag:
“Would it be really easy to assume that I was a douchebag? Definitely. One hundred percent. But that doesn’t mean that I am. Or maybe I am, I don’t know. Okay. So I’m gonna get really intricately self-reflective right now and ask myself the hard questions, to find out, once and for all, definitively, whether or not I’m a douchebag.”
All together now, “SPOILER ALERT, YES, you’re a douchebag!”
GQ also asked him why does it seem like he only dates models. Adam let out another stream of rambling foolery:
“Preference should never be looked down upon. Unless it’s based on something really shitty. I’m not saying I have a preference, but like, I want to date someone. Listen, there are a lot of women in this country, in many countries, who date men for their money. Okay? That’s despicable. Right? That’s not what we’re talking about here. Whatever does it for you, man. I don’t like feet. You know what I mean? But some people do. Some people have fucking foot fetishes. And it’s weird to me. But I don’t have to deal with it, because I don’t have that. You know?”
Listening to Adam on Howard Stern and reading his GQ interview made me like him for a split, quick millisecond. He is a mess. Listening to and reading his thought process is like watching a drunk bitch with physical Tourettes speed down the freeway in a car with a stuck shifter. He goes all over the place and I keep waiting for him to crash and get to the point. He’s like a Woody Allen character if Woody Allen wrote a movie for the Vice crowd.
And here’s the living and breathing positive gonorrhea test outside of Letterman yesterday.
Gary Oldman has a lot of burning feelings about everyone coming at Mel Gibson and Alec Baldwin, and during an interview with Playboy, the lid on those feelings was pulled off and he exploded. Sirius Black squatted and shat on the PC Police and ranted about Hollywood hypocrites blacklisting Mad Mel and he also had some thoughts about 12 Years a Slave winning the Oscar for Best Picture. Gary goes off.
Gary’s Playboy interview doesn’t come out until Friday, but The Daily Mail threw up the greatest hits from his messy, messy rant. Gary says that the world needs to pull the PC stick out of its ass and learn how to take a joke. When Mel Gibson said that “Jews were responsible for all the wars in the world,” we should’ve laughed and given him his own HBO comedy special since he’s a real comedian. Gary says that all those Hollywood Jews who refused to work with Mad Mel are hypocrite whores since he’s sure they’ve told Germans to fuck off and the cops who arrested Mad Mel are probably not so innocent since he’s sure they’ve spit out a racial slur or two. Take it away, Gary:
I just think political correctness is crap. That’s what I think about it. I think it’s like, take a fucking joke. Get over it.
I don’t know about Mel. He got drunk and said a few things, but we’ve all said those things. We’re all fucking hypocrites. That’s what I think about it. The policeman who arrested him has never used the word nigger or that fucking Jew? I’m being brutally honest here. It’s the hypocrisy of it that drives me crazy. Or maybe I should just strike that and say “the N word” and “the F word.
Mel Gibson is in a town that’s run by Jews and he said the wrong thing because he’s actually bitten the hand that I guess has fed him – and doesn’t need to feed him anymore because he’s got enough dough.He’s like an outcast, a leper, you know? But some Jewish guy in his office somewhere hasn’t turned and said, “That fucking kraut” or “Fuck those Germans,” whatever it is? We all hide and try to be so politically correct. That’s what gets me.
As Playboy’s interviewer got the drips and tried to contain their excitement over how many hits this messy, messy rant is going to get, Gary kept going and defended Alec Baldwin.
Alec calling someone an F-A-G in the street while he’s pissed off coming out of his building because they won’t leave him alone. I don’t blame him. So they persecute.
And he kept going:
Well, if I called Nancy Pelosi a cunt — and I’ll go one better, a fucking useless cunt— I can’t really say that. But Bill Maher and Jon Stewart can, and nobody’s going to stop them from working because of it. Bill Maher could call someone a fag and get away with it. He said to Seth MacFarlane this year, “I thought you were going to do the Oscars again. Instead they got a lesbian.” He can say something like that. Is that more or less offensive than Alec Baldwin saying to someone in the street, “You fag”? I don’t get it.
At the Oscars, if you didn’t vote for 12 Years a Slave you were a racist. You have to be very careful about what you say. I do have particular views and opinions that most of this town doesn’t share, but it’s not like I’m a fascist or a racist. There’s nothing like that in my history.
Finally, Gary said that just because he’s defending two throbbing ass warts who are known for spewing out slurs doesn’t make him a bigot or a racist. Gary is just sick of all the hypocrisy and if someone screams “faggot nigger cunt” in the streets, none of us should say shit since we all say it.
No, but I’m defending all the wrong people. I’m saying Mel’s all right, Alec’s a good guy. So how do I come across? Angry? It’s dishonesty that frustrates me most. I can’t bear double standards. It gets under my skin more than anything.
Insert approximately one billion YouMad.jpegs here.
What in the fuck? Batman, come and get your bitch. I tried to see what Gary Oldman was saying, but then he completely lost me when he said that Mel Gibson’s all right. Anyone that says Mel Gibson is all right is not all right in the head and their family members should look into a 5150 situation. Oh, Gary Oldman, living up to your last name, I see. Gary Oldman is that old, crusty drunk white grandpa ranting about how he misses the good old days when we could slap anyone with a slur without the goddamn PC Police getting on our asses.
And Gary’s seriously method, so maybe when he did this interview he was in the middle of preparing for his role in Lifetime’s Sugar Tits & Jacuzzi Blow Jobs: The Mel Gibson Story.
It seems like reporters and writers just keep asking famous people to brain burp up their thoughts about feminism, because those reporters and writers know that the answer could give birth to a million blog posts (see: the Diva Cup-wearing, pit fur-flaunting woodland leaf fairy Shailene Woodley). Channel 4 News asked Pharrell Williams if he considers himself a feminist and the smooth rat of NIMH looked down at his dick, shrugged and then said that he’s not even sure if he can be a feminist since he doesn’t have a pussy. Feminismismism: How Does It Work? By Pharrell Williams.
“I’ve been asked if I’m a feminist. I don’t think it’s possible for me to be that. I’m a man. I mean… it makes sense up until a certain point, you know?”
Elle UK asked Keira Knightley about feminism and she’s a card carrying feminist:
“There is an under-representation of our stories, just as there is an under-representation of us in politics and in business and everywhere. That’s what feminism is [to me] right now – the recognition that we are still not equal.”
And then there’s the lazy-faced, intergalactic space nymph Lana Del Rey who sprains an eye rolling muscle every time someone spurts out the word “feminism” into her ear. The subject of feminism puts Lana Del Taco to sleep and that’s saying a lot since bitch is already in a waking coma. Talking to Lana Del Rey about feminism is like pouring NyQuil on an Ambien pill. During a talk with Fader, they asked her about it and she said she’d much rather use her time talking about Saturn and shit:
“For me, the issue of feminism is just not an interesting concept,” she says. “I’m more interested in, you know, SpaceX and Tesla, what’s going to happen with our intergalactic possibilities. Whenever people bring up feminism, I’m like, god. I’m just not really that interested.” Fortunately, her ambivalence about politics doesn’t undo any subversiveness that may be embedded in her work (though, nor does it excuse any ill it may cause). When pressed, she adds, more illuminatingly, “My idea of a true feminist is a woman who feels free enough to do whatever she wants.”
Anybody who’s listened to the lyrics of Lana’s songs know that she’s practically the Gloria Steinem of music (served in pill form with a glass of warm sarcasm). I’m with Lana, though. I don’t want to hear Lana dribble about feminism either. I’d much rather her take me up, up and away by filling my head with the acid and weed-infused words that come out of her mouth when she talks about space travel. You know that shit is fucked up.
And let’s see, Lana’s 5’7″, isn’t really into feminism, is really into aliens and she’s naturally got robotic facial expressions. Tommy Girl, come get your beard wife #4!
50 Cent (or “Fiddy Cents” as the announcer call him) joined Tara the Badass Bitch of Bakersfield, Carly Rae Jepsen, The Elusive Chanteuse and Baba Booey in The Famous Bitches Who Can’t Throw A Ball Worth Shit Club yesterday. At the Mets vs. Pirates game, the Basement Baby brawl narrator threw out the first pitch and it was a pathetic mess. It’s as if Two Quarters had a sudden case of temporary Andy Cohen eyes and thought the catcher was squatting on two apple crates all the way to the left. That throw was a straight-up Willie Nelson: high and way left.
How does that even happen?
Since this twat skipped out on his son’s graduation, he could’ve at least used that extra free time to practice throwing a ball. I could throw a better first pitch and I suck at throwing balls since nothing is harder for me than letting go of balls.
Of Mice And Men starring STUNT QUEEN and douche of all trades James Franco opened on Broadway last night and this morning, in the same Instagram breath, he posted a link to the thumbs up review from Variety and then slapped at theater critic Ben Brantley of The New York Times for panning the show. The scattered hairs on James’ b-hole nearly burned off when he channeled the asshole spirits of Kanye West and Alec Baldwin to punch out this little love note to Ben Brantley (which he later deleted). via @rilaws (via Vulture)
How rude and mean! If I was Ben Brantley, I would be highly offended. I mean, a “little bitch“? Who wants to be a “little bitch.” Everyone should strive to be a mega bitch at least. Ben Brantley needs to step up his bitchiness so no asshole ever calls him a “little bitch” again.
Ben’s review of James’ performance wasn’t even that bad. It’s not like he said that James is as bad at theater acting as he is at trying to pick up barely legal ass on Instagram. Early in the review, Ben said James has a “brooding beautiful” face and you’d think that’d make his ego cum, but he was stuck on this instead:
Though he sports a Yosemite Sam accent, Mr. Franco is often understated to the point of near invisibility. It’s a tight, internal performance begging for a camera’s close-up. And only in the play’s second scene — in a bunkhouse, where Lennie retells George about the dream farm they’ll someday own together — did I sense a warming current of affection between the characters.
“It’s a tight, internal performance begging for a camera’s close-up….” When James Franco does gay porn, which he will in the name of HIGH ART, a porn reviewer will say the exact same thing about his asshole.
The best part of Ben’s review is this:
Though Mr. Franco musters a single, perfect tear for the play’s tragic climax, I only came close to shedding one. That was in the first act, when a dog (a real one) is led offstage to be shot because it stinks. That dog seemed to have true fear and bewilderment in its eyes. It felt, well, human, in a way none of the people did, and my heart sank when I knew it wouldn’t be coming back.
AHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! The dog got a better review than James Franco. I almost want to fly to NYC just to see this, because I’m sure I would get high off of the smoke coming out of James’ ears when during curtain call, the crowd stands up and throws bouquets of milk bones at the dog.
Here’s James Franco, Chris O’Dowd and Blair Waldorf at the Of Mice And Men after-party and they really kept themselves together as the photographers screamed, “But where’s THE DOG?!”
I made the mistake of watching some of the live-feed of Lady CaCa’s performance at SXSW last night and I closed my laptop after about 15 minutes and watched House Hunters International instead, because if I wanted to see a dirty crackhead flail around while incoherently spewing shit about art and the death of pop music, I’d take the subway in NYC at 4am. Actually, at any time of the day. Yes, CaCa is stealing from subway crackies now.
During “Swine,” CaCa played the drums while professional barfist Millie Brown, who’s been called the barfing Jackson Pollock, drank soy milk dyed bright green from a plastic bottle. This is Millie’s thing. She’s known for spewing colored vomit on canvases. So while looking like Brooke Candy as one of the Matrix Twins, CaCa leaned back and let Millie puke out Slimer’s piss all over her. CaCa has said before that she was bulimic as a teenager, so getting barfed on for the sake of shocking hos was a really good idea. (“Choke on your own rotting shit, you diseased old cow, she’s obviously using art to work through the issues and demons that have haunted her!” – every Little Monster to me)
Because CaCa and Millie weren’t done grossing everyone out, they took their raver exorcism act to a mechanical bull and kept the puke antics coming. ART!
Well, it could’ve been worse. CaCa could’ve sang “Do What U Want” while her best friend Uncle Terry jacked off on her face and her former collaborator R. Kelly pissed on her stomach. But I guess that would’ve been reductive.
And Doritos, who sponsored CaCa’s set, should really ask for their money back. That barf should’ve been burnt orange instead of bright green. Totally off brand.