You’re probably saying to me, “Bitch, must be a slow news LIFE if you’re posting about Paz de la Huerta twice in two days.” It’s actually the opposite of that, thankyouverymuch. New pictures of Spaz de la Huerta are always TOP STORY BREAKING NEWS material and they’re extra special, because the paparazzi have to work hard to get them since she’s a reclusive artist of Greta Garbo proportions who shuns the spotlight and only comes out to accept awards…..or to go to parties with an open bar. (Yes, it’s a slow day.)
Here’s the mantequilla beauty going to Chateau Marmont with a camera-shy friend last night. Spaz always looks like she’s been through some serious shit. She looks like she just spent the past 48 hours giving birth to 16 pound triplets in a wet sauna while detoxing from a heroin addiction. But even though it looks her face is going through something, her lipstick game stays stellar. That’s how a true beauty does it.
Some say that the Christmas season doesn’t officially start until someone gets stabbed while fighting over a $100 DVD at Walmart on Thanksgiving night. But I’ve always felt that the Christmas season doesn’t really begin until three pairs of Spanx on Mimi’s body are screaming for mercy as she yodels out high notes during some tree lighting somewhere. The festivities (read: getting drunk on peppermint schnapps and switching your regular lube to egg nog-scented) leading up to Baby Jesus’ born day can really begin now that Mimi has sung out “All I Want For Christmas Is You” (what fucking else?) while wrapped in a bedazzled Spandex cocoon at the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree lighting.
Those singing children are braver than me, because there’s no way I’d stand that close to Mimi. There’s a 99% chance those pairs of Spanx and that three-sizes-too-small dress will let go and let God, and rip apart sending rhinestones and pieces of Spandex flying everywhere. One of those flying rhinestones could blind a kid. But thankfully that didn’t happen and if it did, I’m sure they’ll edit it out of the final broadcast so it won’t ruin your holiday. Happy Mimimas!
Last night, the premiere of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (a word I’ve been pronouncing as ‘smoog’) was held in Hollywood and it brought out lots of handsome older-types in suits, including the most handsome and suit-y of them all, Benedict Cumberbatch. It couldn’t possibly have gotten any more swoony at The Hobbit premiere after Benedict (they don’t call his eyes ‘The panty droppers‘ for nothing. Yeah, I know, no one calls them that) but then – BAM – James Maslow walked in and done changed the motherfuckin’ game:
TAKE A LAP, CUMBERBATCH. What I’ve gleaned from his IMDB is that he played “James Diamond” (that is THE HOTTEST name in the game) on a Nickelodeon show called Big Time Rush, he used to have serious Justin Bieber hair, aaaaand that’s about it. James Maslow doesn’t play a character in The Hobbit and he didn’t write or sing a song for The Hobbit, so there is literally no reason for him to be at this premiere, but I DO NOT CARE; as long as he brings that Maybe it’s Maybelline face, he can show up at whatever damn premiere he likes. That stunning hair and perfect nose makes him look like a come-to-life Ken doll. Actually, he looks exactly like a doll I named “Brock Lockheart”; he was the ‘special friend’ my Ken doll would bring to dinner at Barbie’s house (and yes, Brock was a model/marine biologist).
Here’s more of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug premiere. I know a handful of big-time nerds and they would be pissed if I didn’t mention everyone’s name (“ALL THE HOBBITS ARE AS IMPORTANT AS FRODO!!” – said as cosplay tights are being pulled up under an Aragorn costume). So here is Benedict Cumberbatch (he voices a dragon named “Smaug”, which sounds like something a stoner came up with), Martin Freeman (Tim from The Office), Orlando Bloom (still hot, would do), Stephen Fry (same), James Maslow, Sean Astin, Manu Bennet (who looks like if John Stamos had a younger half-brother who was really into UFC) Evangeline Lilly (who’s hair has looked better), Peter Jackson, Luke Evans, and Ed Sheeran (Ed looks sleepy because he probably just came from a PJs n’ Popcorn Party at Tay-tay’s house).
(Pics via Splash)
When it comes to looking at dude’s bodies, you’re pretty much in one of two camps: hard and ripped or soft and doughy. Personally? I like a guy to feel like a frat house couch; lumpy, dumpy, and smelling vaguely of Dorito dust. What I’m trying to say is…out of the way High School Musical, you’re blocking my view of Seth Rogen! Daaaaayum, dat patchy shoulder hair got me weak in the knees! Oooh-wee, werk those man titties. Who’s with me?! No one? HATERS.
Whether you’re a #KanyeWest fan or not, fans are #Bound2 get a kick out of this new still from #ZacEfron and #SethRogen’s film #NeighborsMovie Check out all the neighborly shenanigans when the comedy hits theaters next May! #uhhuhhoney
Bound 4? More like Bound 4 the spank-bank. Oh, that’s just fucking crude. But for serious, if Seth Rogen wanted to do another Bound 2 parody with other members of the Neighbors cast, say Bobby Moynihan and/or Jason Mantzoukas, I have a…uh…friend…who’d be happy to thank you by sending a waffle basket over to your home (and now you know what kind of weird shit I’m into. Happy Thanksgiving!)
(Pic via Instagram)
“And the Academy Award for Most Creative Way to Market Drugstore Perfume That Smells Like Cat Urine goes to…”
Cancel your trip to MoMA and throw out that Banksy coffee table book you stole from your dentist’s office, because Justin Bieber’s short film for his new perfume The Key is all you need to know about art, film, culture, hair, and pacing so slow you’ll convince yourself you’ve had a stoke.
If you can get past the blinding lens flares and high art birds (“Don’t drag us into this” – those birds) you’ll get to the slow-roasted meat of this WTF sandwich. What the hell is going on at the 1:12 mark? It looks like a little boy waking his mommy up from a nap (“SpongeBob is over, I’m ready for my juice now.”) 2:09 isn’t any better; I’m not sure who’s lips those are, the random girl’s or Justin’s (just kidding, they’re obviously Bieber’s). And don’t get me started on 3:o1, where Justin feeds that poor girl a macaron; I got the creeps so hard, I felt like I was being ghost-molested. And to whomever was assigned to sexing-up Bieber into a fiery ball of testosterone: you failed. Justin Bieber looks about as butch as a delicate porcelain rose petal; after a while I thought I was watching a trailer for Blue Is The Warmest Color 2: Fancy Lesbians in Paris.
I don’t totally regret missing panty pudding-inducing sex vegetable, Carrot Top, on Oprah: Where Are They Now? (via HuffPo) last night, because I spent my Sunday night getting drunk on light beer (which is an impossible feat and requires A LOT of work) while watching the Golden Girls Marathon Channel known as TVLand for hours. But I do regret not programming my DVR to record all things Carrot Top-related, because it’s embarrassing that I, a self-proclaimed Carrotarian who gets the drips from staring at his Doritos-crusted abs, missed a Carrot Top event! For shame!
Anyway, on last night’s Oprah: Where Are They Now?, Carrot Versatile Bottom talked about how he did a Comedy Central Roast once and one of the comics said that he looks like Eric Stoltz as Rocky Dennis. CT was offended by this, because he doesn’t think he looks that different from when he first started doing comedy. CT told his funniest joke of all time when he said that he hasn’t really had any plastic surgery:
“People think I’ve had plastic surgery — no, it just takes a lot of makeup to make me look good…. I’m sorry that I look good. I don’t think I look anything different than I did when I started [in comedy].”
It’s obvious that hating whores are only throwing shit bombs at Carrot Top, because they’re jealous that they don’t have a face that looks like that of a beautiful woman sculpted out of a sausage cheese log and a body that looks like that of a freckled He-Man doll. I believe CT when he says that he’s never been touched by a plastic surgeon’s scalpel (no, I don’t) and his beauty comes from nature and a bottle of foundation, but let’s compare a picture of him from 1999 and a picture of him from last month anyway.
You know what’s going on here, right? It’s the power of an exquisite eyebrow situation! A stunning pair of eyebrows took Carrot Top from “normal-looking person” to a ginger god who looks like Pennywise in Jackie Stallone drag. So don’t hate Carrot Top for being beautiful, hate his eyebrow threader.
There’s not a lot I know about middle-aged men, but one thing I do know is that once a man in his 50s separates from his wife and makes the conscious decision to grow out a ponytail, it’s the first step in the suburban male version of How Stella Got Her Groove Back. It’s like a late-in-life Bar Mitzvah: “Congratulations, you’re now a free man desperate to reclaim the youth you lost to your wife! Take this earring and Ed Hardy t-shirt and celebrate with your friends and family.”
Bruce Jenner debuted this beautiful symbol of freedom at a charity yard sale in Woodland Hills, CA and luckily photographers were there to catch it in all it’s stunning glory. Look at the sun bouncing off that ‘tail; Jesus himself must have sent a sunbeam down to Bruce’s head as if to say: “Lookin’ good Bruce! Oh, and can you pass on a message to Kris? Satan says Hi.”
I know that Kris is trying really hard to save the reveal of her and Bruce’s separation for the season premiere of Konstant Koverage Of The Kardashians (or a magazine cover or an E! News special report or a DASH fire sale or something), but Bruce’s choice of hairstyle is sending a pretty clear message: Once you go ‘tail, you never bail…on your plan to escape the suffocating clutches of your viper-faced wife and the fame-hungry Chimera creature she calls ‘her daughters’.
The power and the glory of Bruce’s Freedom Whip was upstaged only once during the yard sale when Kim Kardashian’s ego fell into her ass and the excess weight caused her to fall down onto a pile of trash (OH, THE IRONY). Of course, TMZ caught the fall on camera because – DUH – nothing says humility and generosity like inviting a camera crew to your charity yard sale to film your selfless volunteerism.
Here’s more of Bruce, Bruce’s follicular ‘fuck you’ to Kris, the former host of Fox’s Kris, Khloe Lamar-Odom-Jenner-Kardashian (or whatever the hell she’s going by these days), Kim’s too-heavy ass, and some poor girl who’s giving serious morse code with her eyes after being cornered by Bruce (H-E-L-P…M-E…).
(Pics via Splash)
Yeah, I’ll look straight into your eyes and lie to your faces this early in the morning. I’m on my third cup of coffee, have the house to myself and have slightly less than half a fuck to give. “Good taste” and anything related to the Jackass franchise go together about as good as a shot of Jägermeister thrown into a Purple Nurple (DON’T DO IT! That shit is potent and will get you and your boss kicked out of Bennigan’s- trust) and last night’s offerings by Bad Grandpa‘s director Jeff Tremaine and star Georgina Cates offer more proof than that Jäger shot.
Jeff‘s suit is made of the same material that haunts the dreams of every bridesmaid and looks like something Harvey “Two Face” Dent would cut in half and wear when pledging a fraternity. It’s so distracting I almost missed Johnny Knoxville’s deliberate fashion choice of only wearing one glove in case he had to duck behind a curtain somewhere and jack off a stallion. I still would, though. Twice.
Those two pale in comparison to the real star of this shitshow- Georgina Cates. I’m getting some serious Hooker Smurf vibes from the beanie, straight down the flare legged denim jumpsuit to the platform heels. She copped a squat on the red carpet, probably to save her strength in case Gargamel comes by later and offers $20 for a blowie. All I know is that nothing screams class and elegance like a chest tattoo on a woman, especially if it’s written en français in a font I can only imagine is called “Ah, fuck it, second one down I guess” on the list hanging on the wall of her tattoo parlor.
Also pictured are Spike Jonze, Tony Hawk, and Jackson Nicoll (obviously making his parents proud by making faces and trying to junk-punch Johnny in his Knoxvilles).
Madge really needs to get her in-house, full-time personal plastic surgeon to let out the skins of fetuses on her face, because it’s pulled tighter than rubber pants on Nicki Minaj’s ass. Madge gave everyone subtle shades of Jocelyn Wildenstein (which is the biggest compliment you can give a bitch) at the opening of her gym Hard Candy in Berlin today. That face is pulled to infinity and beyond and it’s only a matter of time before she’s got nipples on her cheeks. When she smiles, I can practically hear the invisible pins around her face popping off one by one and it’s a scientific miracle that her face hasn’t popped off and flown across the room before getting stuck on a wall.
And I don’t know why Madge is calling a bitch an enslaver since she’s been enslaving her face with all kinds of chemical shit for years.
Just when I was about to declare today the Backdoor Farrah of gossip days (slow as fuck), these newsworthy and highly important pictures of the bright shiny rhinestone ring hanging off of America’s left nipple came out. Today in West Hollywood, Richard Simmons strut strut strutted his ass while looking like a gorgeous purple wildflower in a blue butterfly sanctuary. If a Q-Tip was used in a purple swan’s ear and a magical blue fairy turned it into a human because she felt it was too fabulous to be thrown out, that human would look like Richard Simmons.
Everybody should celebrate Coming Out Day by dying their hair purple and wearing some 70s shirt from Out of the Closet! Technically, Richard Simmons hasn’t officially come out, but he doesn’t really need to and besides, that outfit is coming out for him. Happy National Coming Out Day!
And here’s more of Richard today and pictures of Richard being a bathing beauty with Diana Nyad in NYC the other day. Commence the puckering!