Reese Witherspoon And Ryan Phillippe’s Kids Don’t Want To Watch Their Parents Do It In “Cruel Intentions”
You can file this under: Duh, No Shit, and Oh Lord Where’s The Bleach I Need To Wipe This Mental Image From My Brain, because really – I can’t think of anyone who would want to watch their parents hump on each other, even if it’s just for pretend. In the eyes of a person watching their parents do sex, a pretend hump is just as unsettling as the real thing.
During a recent appearance on Watch What Happens Live, Reese Witherspoon admitted that Ava and Deacon Phillippe, the kids she made with her former husband Ryan Phillippe, have no interest in watching any movie starring Oscar-winning AMERICAN CITIZEN Reese Witherspoon. But they especially have no interest in watching their mom lose her pretend virginity to their dad in Cruel Intentions.
“They don’t have any interest in seeing me in movies. It’s weird for them. They’re like, ‘This is so weird!’ And especially seeing me and their dad having sex. It’s so weird. Not interested. They have this Cruel Intentions play in L.A. that’s like a musical. So I was going to take them to that. But they haven’t seen [the movie].”
Reese and Ryan’s kids are 15 and 11-years-old now (this just in: all our bones simultaneously turned to dust, because we are OLD), which means Netflix is bound to suggest that delicious piece of trash to them eventually. And it’s sad they’ll never watch it, because watching Sarah Michelle Gellar serving up 8 layers of bitchy slut for two hours is truly an experience. Maybe someone could re-cut Cruel Intentions in a way that makes it seem like Reese and Ryan are just friends? Or just delete their scenes entirely and make it exclusively about SMG. Where’s the Kickstarter for that? I have $10 and I would like to see that happen!
The sky is blue, water is wet, Kanye West’s b-hole gets moist whenever Riccardo Tisci adds the thumb up emoji to one of his texts and Kylie Jenner’s lips are full of fillers. Expect that shocking development to be added to the Book of Revelation.
17-year-old Kylie Jenner has said time and time again that her enormous Bratz lips were made with make-up and not Kardashian blood (aka fillers) and every time she said that most of us threw her a side-eye as though she said, “I swear, my mother has a soul.” But after months of denials and after a bunch of stupid kids almost killed their lips from doing the #KylieJennerChallenge, Pimp Mama Kris’ youngest employee has admitted that her neck pillow lips are fake.
In a preview for the next episode of Keeping Up with the Kartrashians, a reporter tries to be slick by asking Kylie what’s the secret to getting “amazing” lips like hers. The secret of course is found at the end of a plastic surgeon’s syringe needle, but Kylie awkwardly tiptoes around the question and instead talks about lipstick colors or something. Kylie then admits during one of those reality TV confessionals that she had “temporary fillers” injected into her lips. Those of you (read: none of you) who believed Kylie and thought her lips just had a growth spurt are probably crying into the deed for the bridge you bought from a friend, because you can’t believe that she deceived you.
Kylie really didn’t have to say anything. It would be shocking if she didn’t have any fillers or anything. I mean, she’s PMK’s child. You’re not officially PMK’s child until you’ve been khristened with a syringe full of filler. If Kylie didn’t want any kind of plastic surgery, it would break PMK’s cold, dead demon heart and she’d clutch at the rubbery skin on her flesh while screaming, “Why do you hate me?!”
And here’s another klip where Khlozilla says that Kylie should just tell the truth about her lips. This coming from a trick whose probably got two giant stress balls shoved under her ass skin:
Why did I watch that first part more than once? All of my future Thanksgivings are ruined now. I’ll have to run out of the kitchen screaming every time I see my mom slathering oil all over a turkey.
And here’s the only all-natural member of the Kartrashians whoring out her toilet book at Barnes & Noble in NYC yesterday.
And guess what? None of them have to do with him being a good fashion designer. Shocking, I know. People asked Kelly Cutrone, aka Lauren and Whitney’s bitchy boss on The Hills who seriously looked completely over it 99.9% of the time, what she thought of Kanye West’s latest attempt at being a fashion designer, and she blew this beautiful slap-scented air kiss to Kim Kardashian’s kurrent husband:
“I’m not into his fashion thing. I think he’s fine as a rapper. I think he’s a joke as a fashion designer.”
Be still my beating heart. But Cunty Cuntrone wasn’t done dragging Kanye just yet; when asked if she liked the shoes he did, Kelly hissed:
“I mean, it’s not, he’s not legit. Have you seen the product? Didn’t he have his own line in London, which was a disaster that he spent $10 million to do, that no one wore?”
Then like a true bitch, Kelly yanked the wig right off Kanye’s head by telling that no-talent trick to go back to rapping, while also throwing a little shade in Diddy’s direction:
“I just think that you should stay focused at what you’re good at. Just because you’re a good rapper doesn’t mean you’re going to be a good fashion designer. I mean, we’ve seen that over and over. Sean John is a really successful line, but you know, no one in the fashion industry is waking up and going, ‘Hey did you get that … did you like, trade up your Moncler for your Sean John?’ No. Nobody’s saying that.
I’m sure at this very moment, Amber Rose is thinking: “Yaaaassss bitch, do Khloe Kardashian next! Open the library and read her to filth!”
But even though Kelly’s review of Kanye’s stupid fashion show killed me, buried me, and brought me back to life, it’s still nowhere near as perfect as one he got from his own daughter.
The Internet has Lindsay Lohan’d us again. Next you’re going to tell me that Charlo Greene is an actress from L.A., her real name is Kimberly Brown, she’s never smoked weed in her life and that station in Alaska hired her to pull that scripted stunt so they’d beat their rivals in the Anchorage local news ratings war! Then you’re going to tell me that the Frankenstein helmet on The Long Island Medium’s head isn’t a communication device for the dead. What to believe?!
When the story of the 21-year-old demure Florida daisy with a third tit implant made the rounds yesterday, some of us squinted at it the same way I squint at a picture from a Grindr trick that looks like his head pasted on Zac Efron’s body. I wanted to believe, but deep down I knew it was made of one hundred percent pure lies. Something in the third tit wasn’t clean about Jasmine Tridevil’s story. Jasmine wouldn’t give up the name of the back alley plastic surgeon who did it, because she claims they made her sign a confidentiality agreement and her trio of tits situation looked a little too perfect. Well, those truth sniffers at Snopes got to the bottom of it and exposed Jasmine Tridevil and her tres chichi as frauds.
Chris Brown, the famous person equivalent to that kid from your 1st grade class who got kicked out of school because he wouldn’t stop biting everyone, gave his first official interview since leaving jail in June to Billboard and for the first time in a very, very long time he actually sounds…not like a raging asshole? HEAR ME OUT! I know you probably read that last part and considered calling super-sleuth Courtney Love to see if she could locate my damn mind, since I CLEARLY lost it, but you need to trust me on this one. »
File directly under: DUH and DUH.
TMZ says that the FBI has opened up an investigation and working on tracking down the hacker or hackers who leaked the hundreds of naked celebrity pictures that took over the Internet’s Labor Day and are the sole reasons for why thousands of mothers are cleaning their teenage son’s bedrooms today and shaking their heads over all the “cream of mushroom stains” on the carpet. The FBI didn’t get into details, but they did tell TMZ that they’re working on it and I’m taking that to mean that they’ve put Special Agent Courtney Love and Detective La Toya on the case.
“The FBI is aware of the allegations concerning computer intrusions and the unlawful release of material involving high profile individuals, and is addressing the matter. Any further comment would be inappropriate at this time.”
If the hacker is American, they’re probably thinking about fleeing to Edward Snowden’s pied-à-terre in Moscow, because ScarJo’s hacker got a decade in the clink.
Reddit thinks they found the dude responsible for releasing the flood of celebrity nipples to the masses, but he told Buzzfeed that he’s innocent and a stupid plan to use the pictures to get bitcoins backfired on his ass.
It was reported that a crack in THE CLOUD might’ve made it easy for the hackers to get in and snatch up all those pictures, but Apple said today that after spending 40 hours investigating this shit, they determined that they’re not to blame (of course) and there was no breach in their security system.
“After more than 40 hours of investigation, we have discovered that certain celebrity accounts were compromised by a very targeted attack on user names, passwords and security questions, a practice that has become all too common on the Internet”
I knew this before, but now I really know that anything I throw up into THE CLOUD can be potentially exposed. Nearly all of my iTunes playlists are on THE CLOUD and all of my iTunes playlists are a trillion times more embarrassing than a picture of a Downton Abbey actress getting poked in the eye with a hard peen. I may or may not have that annoying ass “All About That Bass” song on one of my playlists and that song may or may not have been played at least 90 times. SANTO DIOS! Shoot down THE CLOUD now!
Congratulations to Canadian American daisy petal Pamela Anderson! When she married her third ex-husband Rick Salomon for the second time in January, we all thought they’d annul the hell out of that marriage as soon as the coke buzz wore off. But she somehow managed to make it to 6 months before she thought to herself, “Eh, I’m bored of this peen again, NEXT!”
TMZ says that Pamela is getting one failed marriage closer to taking down Elizabeth Taylor’s record, because last Thursday she filed papers to legally kill her marriage to Parasite Hilton’s sex tape partner. Pamela checked the box next to “irreconcilable differences” as the reason why she’s done with this marriage, because “craving new dick” wasn’t listed as a reason. TMZ also says that Rick Salomon won $2.8 million in a poker tournament last Tuesday, two days before she filed to quit his ass, and if they don’t have a prenup, she might be able to get her hands around half of that money. Holding out on divorcing her husband until after his big poker tournament has earned Pamela Anderson a bright shining star on The Gold Digger Walk of Fame, because that is a genius move.
Let’s go over Pamela’s marriage history… Pamela first put on a wedding ring when she married Tommy Lee in 1995 and they divorced three years later. Pamela jumped on and off Tommy Lee’s Wienermobile dick for a few years before marrying Kid Pebble in 2006. Pamela kicked the sanctity of marriage in the anus hole a year later when she made Kid Pebble her second ex-husband. The same year that Pamela quit Kid Pebble, she married Rick Soloman for the first time. They lasted for four months before they annulled their marriage due to FRAUD. They forgot about the whole FRAUD thing and married again last January and now they’re over again.
You know how some hos say that break-up sex is the best kind of sex? Maybe Pamela Anderson is way past that and she can only bust a nut if she’s freshly divorced from the dude. So I’m sure as soon as their divorce is final, these marriage-abusing sluts are going to start having hot divorce fuck times and then when she gets bored with that, she’ll marry him a third time, and then divorce him a third time so she can have more hot divorce fuck times. They’ll keep doing that over and over again. Divorce is totally Pamela’s fetish of choice. That sick bitch.
You didn’t need Beyonce to tell you through one of her songs that Jay-Z has probably spit his camel saliva on his side piece’s crotch before riding that trick raw, but she’s going to tell you anyway, because she’s got a tour to sell. Rumors of Jay-Z’s wandering dick antics have been around since the beginning of Bey-Z time, but ever since Basement Baby tried to commit camel slaughter (call PETA!) in an elevator, more rumors have popped up. If anyone can take a rumor and stretch it out for maximum attention, it’s Beyonce. So during her and Jay-Z’s show in Cincinnati, OH on Saturday night, Beyonce perked up the ears of the BumbleBeys when she changed a few lyrics in her song “Resentment” (video below, starts at around the 3:25 mark). The Mirror says that Beyonce changed the lyrics “been riding with you for 6 years” to “been riding with you for 12 years” which is how long she’s been riding the camel. The STUNT QUEEN of Dereon also changed this lyric:
I gotta look at her in her eyes and see she’s had half of me.
To this lyric:
I gotta look at her in her eyes and see she’s had half of me. She ain’t even half of me. That bitch will never be.
Beyonce can fuck herself in the ass with that “half of me” shit. She has a lot of nerve singing that when “Resentment” was originally sung by Posh Spice. And Beyonce doesn’t even have half of the nightingale vocal skills that Posh Spice has and she never will.
BUT WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!
Well, it could be one of two things. This could be another calculated move from Beyonce and Jay-Z and they’ll keep dropping hints like this throughout the tour and during the final show, she’ll serve him divorce papers while singing “Irreplaceable.” Or Beyonce is letting Jay-Z know that he better keep his sluttin’ ways on the down low or she’ll leave a trail of hay from his dressing room to the bottom of the basement stairs where a whoopin’ ass-ready Basement Baby will be waiting for him.
But in more important news, why the hell is Beyonce wearing a wedding outfit? Bitch, you ain’t Miss Havisham.
The second Prince William slipped that giant Heart of the Ocean-looking ring on Kate Middleton’s skinny finger and asked her to make him the happiest future King in all the land by marrying his ass, the Universe erupted into a giant ball of British screams, The Queen’s smartest corgi booked England’s fanciest choorch, and Prince Hot Ginge started cutting back to chugging one bottle of whiskey a night, because it was time to start planning the WEDDING OF THE CENTURY!!!1!
The only one who didn’t get the memo that it was time to drop everything and start preparing for the DEFCON-1 of weddings was Pippa Middleton. Kate’s sister told sleazy high school math teacher Matt Lauer on Today (via Page Six) that her ass isn’t the only thing that’s thick as a brick by confessing that she didn’t think the royal wedding was going to be such a big deal:
“It sounds funny to say, we saw it, as a family, as just a family wedding. I didn’t realize, perhaps, the scale of it, until afterwards. I had to make sure I helped my sister where I should, and look after the bridesmaids and pageboys. But we really saw it as a family getting together and doing their bit. It was when we saw crowds rushing around, towards the balcony, and I suddenly was like, ‘Wow, this is pretty special.’”
It was my understanding that marshmallow tycoon James Middleton was the DERP-iest of the Middleton siblings, but now I’m not so sure. Just a family wedding?!? The Hell? Her sister hit the Powerball MegaMillions Jackpot of life and Pippa assumed they were going to celebrate in the banquet hall at the Crowne Plaza with soggy beef wellingtons and a Craigslist DJ named Spyder?
And if Pippa knows what’s good for her, she should have followed up that quote by saying: “Of course, there was no question as to how special it was when Baby Prince George was born. It was the most special day. And every day afterwards. Baby Prince George is the most special baby in the world. I am truly blessed to be his aunt.” (“That’s right bitch. Now get me a handful of Goldfish crackers and a bilby“ - Baby Prince George).
It was just a quick second ago when America’s deep fried sweetheart was just a sketti sauce-covered cornish game hen of cuteness who made fart jokes and gave her heart to a drag queen pig. But now Honey Boo Boo is slowly entering that constant eye roll phase of life, and one audience member who watched her taping of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon last week said she has turned into a “dimpled monster.” It really isn’t right calling Honey Boo Boo a “dimpled monster.” That’s the copyrighted nickname for John Travolta’s butt.
Salon published an article from Christy O’Shoney who writes that she sat in the audience for Mama June and Honey Boo Boo’s appearance on The Tonight Show and she thought she was going to get some light-hearted, artery-clogging fun, but instead she got Honey Boo Boo not wanting to be there. After this generation’s Shirley Temple came out in an exquisitely elegant leopard and bedazzled ensemble, she sat down and wasn’t into any of it. Christy writes that Mama June had to either answer the questions for her or mumble the answers to her. Christy says that a lot of awkwardness was cut out of the television broadcast including a moment that would make the veins in every abuelita’s forehead throb and explode:
But the most notable moment to be left out of Honey Boo Boo’s appearance on “The Tonight Show” was when she became so fed up that she actually struck Mama June. Up until this point, Fallon had been doing a great job of navigating Alana’s weird behavior, but it was at this moment when he became positively awesome. “NEVER hit your mother!” he exclaimed, in a voice that was serious with just a hint of a joke, and the studio audience erupted in applause. Finally, we thought, someone is addressing this child’s attitude.
But really, it’s television, so instead of getting a timeout for hitting her mom, Alana was handed pompoms and asked to lead the audience in a cheer. We reluctantly played along for Jimmy’s sake, but it felt strange, like we were giving her some kind of reward for her behavior.
When I watched the episode that night and I saw how much had been cut out, it made me wonder how much of Alana’s life is itself left on the cutting-room floor. Where do the producers of “Toddlers & Tiaras” or “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” have to draw the line? There must come a point where they say: This is not good TV, it’s just sad. Let’s cut it
If I was on TV with my abuelita and I slapped her, it would be game over for everyone involved. A curtain, that wasn’t there before, would magically fall in front of the audience, the camera people would unplug their cameras and my abuelita would calmly ask a producer to call the nearest mortuary home and tell them to prepare two tiny coffins that can fit two tiny 8-year-old hands, because we will be having a funeral for my hands later that day. I’m surprised Mama June’s Jabba the Hutt chins didn’t immediately wrap its mouth (yes, her chins have a mouth) around Honey Boo Boo and swallow her whole.
Christy ends her piece with a shocking revelation: the Honey Boo Boo we see on TV might be an act.
So this edited version of Honey Boo Boo becomes what we celebrate. We laugh at this kid with the funny catchphrases, the quirky dances, the affinity for go-go juice, but I suspect that she might not actually exist. The Honey Boo Boo we know is a compilation of shticky moments in what has clearly been a strange, tough childhood. The Alana I saw on “The Tonight Show” set was visibly troubled: disrespectful, defiant, entitled. Of course, with a bit of editing, “disrespectful” becomes “precocious,” “defiant” becomes “sassy,” and “entitled” becomes “confident.”
Who knew that when you take a little child, push them out onto a stage and tell them to dance, monkey, sing, monkey, be cute, monkey, that one day when they get a little older they’ll get tired of that shit and rebel. This has never happened before! But really, besides the hitting your mom foolery, aren’t most 8-year-olds like that? That’s why I say when they turn 6, we drop them all on some isolated island where they can roll their eyes and sass each other all day long. We can bring them back when they’re 16, but only because we need a teenager to buy tickets to Fault In Our Stars for us so we don’t look truly pathetic. I’ve done a lot of shameful things in my life, but nothing is more shameful than me going up to a movie theater box office and saying, “I’d like one ticket to Fault In Our Stars please.”