Celebitchy had a post today about how the owner of an ever-changing face, Ellie Goulding, sometimes doesn’t shower after she sweats her pores off while working out. I don’t work out, but I’ve been around people after they’ve worked out and some of them reek like over-worn socks boiling in onion and cumin broth. But Ellie Goulding says she doesn’t stank. I don’t believe her. Look at that picture. She obviously looks woozy in the face and cross-eyed because she got a giant whiff of the moist clouds of armpit gravy wafting up into her nostrils. Ellie being a little dizzy from her own stank would also explain why she agreed to wear that dress.
At the Omega ‘Lost in Space’ 60th Anniversary of Speedmaster event (I don’t know what those words mean either) in London last night, Ellie showed up wearing a dress that looks like a mash-up of prom looks from throughout the years. That black lace part is from a prom dress from the 80s. That black fishnet part is from a prom dress from the 90s. And that black cloth part is from a prom dress that was worn to a prom last week. It also looks like she was invited to a Madonna-themed cocktail party where the dress code is “Dress like your favorite Madonna” and she didn’t know if she should do “Lucky Star Madonna” or “Desperately Seeking Susan Madonna,” so she went as both. But really, that is the perfect dress to wear to a Lost in Space party, because it looks like Ellie’s head and her stylist’s head were floating through the universe when they went with that look.
And here’s more pictures from last night’s event including some of Panty Creamer Hall of Famer David Gandy and George Clooney hamming it up like he’s working the vaudeville circuit or some shit.
This picture of Prince Hot Ginge and Ellie Goulding was taken all the way in 2014, but I can completely tell that she’s thinking to herself, “YES! The tabloids can use this picture of us when my publicist eventually leaks a fake story about how I’m getting with Harry.” Looking like a damn house painter in that outfit. Bitch, go paint a house and let PHG be!
The Sun EXCLUSIVELY reported yesterday that PHG is trying to woo English pop singer Ellie Goulding and that the two have been flirting through text messages the past few weeks. They’ve been friends for a while and got close when Ellie was the wedding singer at Duchess Kate and Prince William’s royal nuptials. And at the Audi Polo Challenge last month, Ellie and PHG supposedly got caught by an onlooker kissing under a blanket. Presenting this work of fiction:
“It turned into a real party late into the night and there was a complete ban on taking pictures so Harry and the other celebrities there could feel comfortable. Harry was really going for it after the polo – he was drinking and dancing. They were part of a wider group including Tom Hardy. But Harry and Ellie only had eyes for each other all night – they spent a lot of time sitting together under blankets. They were seen having a kiss before Harry had to go because he was playing polo the next day. Ellie left about five minutes later.
Harry was overheard on the way out telling some friends how much he liked her. But there’s already a lot of talk amongst friends that the palace wouldn’t allow her as a serious girlfriend because of her celebrity background.”
Let me guess… The blanket was made out of unicorn fur, PHG gave Ellie a promise ring made out of fairy hair and they left together in an invisible carriage pulled by Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and a baby T-Rex in a tutu. But really, who hasn’t been caught by an “onlooker” humping on PHG under a blanket? I know I have, only the “onlooker” turned out to be my dog and I wasn’t humping on PHG under a blanket. I was just crying about my loneliness under a duvet.
And here’s PHG practicing his fisting skills at the Double Jab Boxing Club in London two days ago:
Pics: Getty, Splash
Page Six claims that Courtney Love was kicked out of the Neon Carnival on Saturday night for being “too” wasted. They could be right. I mean, look at that picture of Courtney Love. She must be on something if she’s standing there doing nothing as Ellie Goulding’s mouth is being attacked by two mutated silicone leeches! Do something, Courtney! Throw a compact at those evil things!
Courtney Love declared last year that she was Cracked Out Courtney no more and was sitting on the wagon with her seatbelt firmly attached. Courtney claimed that she was done with the sweet nectar, the good shit, the bad shit and the prescribed shit. She said that her current drug of choice is some “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo” stuff because she’s a Buddhist now. But Page Six seems to think that Courtney fell face first off of the wagon and landed directly on a pile of hipster piss at a Coachella party.
After Courtney went to see fellow mess and one-time arch rival Axl Rose play with Guns ‘N Roses at Coachella, she went to the Neon Carnival held at a nearby airport. Page Six’s source says that Courtney got so wasted that they kicked her out of there.
“She went to Neon Carnival and got kicked out for being too drunk in the VIP area,” we’re told.
Another source at the party, which is held on an airport tarmac — and was attended by celebs including Leo DiCaprio, Rihanna and Kesha — said, “She was literally falling over. It just became a little too sloppy, and she was removed. She wasn’t coherent at all.”
Are they sure Courtney was boozing it up, because isn’t she incoherent and sloppy when she’s sober too? But honestly, I didn’t think it was possible to get kicked out of a Coochella event for being “too plastered.” That’s like being kicked out of the Gathering of the Juggalos for sucking dirty dick in a Port-A-Potty while butt chugging Faygo and moonshine. If this is true and you really can get kicked out of a Coachella party for being drunk, then that’s just cruel and unusual punishment. How else do the evil doers of that event expect you to deal with messes dressed like assholes. Case in point: Bella Thorne.
Oh, don’t mind Russell Wilson; he’s just been trying so hard not to stare into Ciara’s front no no hole that he’s fallen into some kind of catatonic state. I’m sure he’s fine.
If there’s one night of the year when a famous type can throw out everything they know about class, taste, style, common sense, and Spanx, it’s the Grammys. I’m pretty sure if you look on your invitation, the dress code is simply a picture of Toni Braxton from the 43rd Grammy Awards. Unfortunately, only a handful of people observed the dress code and came barely-draped in their tacky finest. The most elegant of which was Ciara, who showed up in a table runner held together with a bunch of ribbons and damn near flashed everyone her panty goodies.
I’m not sure why Ciara and Russell Wilson were at the Grammys, since she hasn’t been nominated for one in six years and he doesn’t sing, but I’m really glad they did. Otherwise, we might have missed out on Ciara’s gorgeously trampy formal nightgown thing. Ciara looks like a slutty Miami dancer (I’ll let you decide what kind of dancer) named Porquoi? who works for diamonds and really really wants to fuck Scarface, and I’m into it.
With that being said, if this is how Ciara dresses now, I can’t wait to see what kind of high-end classiness $15 million lawsuit winner Ciara shows up in next year.
Of course, there were a few close seconds in terms of pure class and elegance, like Joy Villa and the always stunning Z LaLa (who came dressed like an IKEA As-Is section version of Cher). On the other end of the spectrum was Dancia, who said “Fuck it” to sexy and covered herself in whatever she could grab from Nicki Minaj’s storage locker from 2010 and glue to her pink onesie.
“Oooooh, you bitches are so dead” is probably what all the 9th graders said as Lorde and Ellie Goulding nervously shuffled through the cafeteria with green trays in hand toward Taylor Swift who told them that they can’t sit with her and they better go and sit with the other losers at the round orange table in the corner. Lorde and Ellie Goulding dun goofed.
Since Tay Tay is a bitchy 15-year-old girl trapped in the body of a vintage Barbie doll, she wrote that Bad Blood (working title: Period Cramps) song about how Katy Perry stole one of her back-up dancers or some shit. I heard that Tay Tay also got revenge by carving the words “Katy Perry Iz A Cum Guzzling Skankosaur“ into a stall in the girl’s locker room bathroom and also told everyone that Katy Perry took a dump once and didn’t wash her hands afterward. Eww! A million members of Taylor Swift’s Girl Squad are in the Bad Blood video including Ellie Goulding. (Side note: A piece of me dies inside whenever I type “Taylor Swift’s Girl Squad” and that’s surprising since I thought I was completely dead inside.)
But well, over the weekend, Ellie Goulding and another member of Taylor Swift’s Girl Squad, Lorde, showed their traitor asses when they hung out and took a picture with that dancer-stealing hose beast tramp skeeza whore Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson! Lorde’s mom and Ellie Goulding both Instagrammed the above picture. In case you couldn’t tell since she doesn’t look like Emily the Strange’s stranger cousin who lives in a tree trunk in the dark part of the forest, Lorde is in the red dress in the middle. Ellie Goulding is the blonde getting strangled on the right and Katy Perry’s head is floating next to Lorde.
Ellie Goulding later deleted the picture from her Instagram and I’m guessing that had something to do with Taylor texting her with this:
That’s Emoji for: “Bitch, you dead and tell Lorde that she looks like shit as the Salsa Dancer Emoji.”
Taylor is totally going to get those traitor bitches for this. She’ll put them on clean-up crew after her Easy Bake Oven cupcake parties. Or maybe that picture proves that this Katy vs. Taylor feud is made up by their publicists and tween gossiping girls trapped in the bodies of 30-something gay bloggers are falling for it. No, that can’t be it.
Here’s Katy’s arch rival with Girl Squad members (there goes a piece of me into a coffin) Gigi Hadid and Martha Hunt in NYC this past weekend.
And that, my friends, is the exact face one should make when they’re in the presence of one of Pimp Mama Kris’s Krotch Droppings. “I don’t care how much we paid for admission, we need to leave. Now. Seeing one of the babies means that the mother isn’t far behind.”
Friday marked the kick-off of the world’s largest hipster costume party, the Coachella Jorts and Selfies Festival in Indio, CA, and I guess all those $20,000 cheques cleared, because celebrities have started swarming Coachella like rats to an open dumpster behind KFC. Now, technically Coachella doesn’t officially begin until the arrival of the First Lady of Fauxhemia, Vanessa Hudgens. But since it usually takes her hours, even days, to get ready (it takes time to dry hump the 70s), she usually let’s them go ahead and start without her.
I know we’re less than 24-hours into this weekend-long Urban Outfitters commercial, but already Aaron Paul has won my heart by embracing the true spirit of Coachella. It’s not about $200 custom jorts or having the longest gauzy vest or the widest hat; it’s about dancing like nobody’s watching while rolling hard on shrooms:
Either Aaron Paul is higher than Jesse Pinkman after snorting a pound of blue crystal meth, or he’s working hard for that $15,000. Either way, I’ll be right back: I need to pray to a giant piece of New Age quartz that there’s a video somewhere of Aaron Paul dancing to Ellie Goulding all by himself in a little circle, because I need that in my life.
Here’s more hookers clickety-clacking along the Coachella stroll on Friday, including Selena Gomez (sans King Joffrey Bieber), Marla Hooch and The Model One (that sounds like an 80s cop show: Hooch & The Model) Joe Jonas and his girlfriend Basic Bitch Blanda, a rotten leftover from the refrigerator of 2005 and her sister Nicky Hilton, and Kellan Lutz, who if I had to guess, got paid $200 and a voucher to a taco stand: