Tom Ford’s Etiquette And Style Tips For The Modern Gentleman

If you’re an unemployed man who wears shorts outside of the tennis court and doesn’t lift a hand when a lady takes off her coat, Tom Ford is sneering at you. Tom Ford looks like a well-groomed badger sniffing on a magnolia blossom when he sneers, but don’t mistake it as a good thing. Tom Ford is covering you with judgement. Tom tells AnOther magazine what he thinks are 5 tips for today’s refined gentleman:

1. You should put on the best version of yourself when you go out in the world because that is a show of respect to the other people around you.

2. A gentleman today has to work. People who do not work are so boring and are usually bored. You have to be passionate, you have to be engaged and you have to be contributing to the world.

3. Manners are very important and actually knowing when things are appropriate. I always open doors for women, I carry their coat, I make sure that they’re walking on the inside of the street. Stand up when people arrive at and leave the dinner table.

4. Don’t be pretentious or racist or sexist or judge people by their background.

5. A man should never wear shorts in the city. Flip-flops and shorts in the city are never appropriate. Shorts should only be worn on the tennis court or on the beach.

It’s a good thing I only surround myself with drunk hos who don’t wear coats, because they’re always leaving them in coat check or the bathroom of a McDonald’s. It’s also a good thing I only wear Culottes and shoelace gladiator sandals when I’m in the city. I’m alright by Tom Ford. Yay.

The real truth is, though, #4 cancels most of these out. So stuff your shit into your shortest shorty shorts and twirl your lady friend on the OUTSIDE of the street. All bets are off!

Pax’s 7th Birthday Party Was Better Than Yours

Hmm. On second thought, let me rethink that title. For my 7th birthday party, my abuelita slapped my hands for kicking one of my cousins down the slide (Well, bitch wouldn’t move her ass!), one of my gifts was She-Ra’s Castle and I spent most of the day wondering why I didn’t get all Donald Duck-ey in the voice after sucking the air out of my balloons (CHILD GENIUS ALERT: the balloons weren’t blown up with helium). So that was my 7th birthday party.

Pax spent his on a boat in Paris watching St. Angie slurp on a goblet filled with warm sacrificial blood while listening to his dad yammer for hours about buildings, or some shit. Maddox and Zahara already chewed up all the Dramamine, so Pax had to go it sober. Yeah, maybe the point goes to me after all.

BUT WAIT, are those NILLA WAFERS around Pax’s cake?! Okay, let me pass the point back to Pax. Damn. Damn. Damn.

What In The Hell Kind Of GD Outfit Is This?

Liza Minnelli has a pair of priceless eyebrows that make me want to lounge on them while smoking skinny cigars and mouthing the words to a Judy Garland song, so she can pretty much do no wrong. BUT I cannot ignore the full-blown fuggery she wrapped herself in last night for the Sixty in the City 2 premiere in New York City. Bitch. What.

Liza looks like a honey glazed ham wrapped in an oven bag and ready for roasting! Just sprinkle some pineapple rings and cloves on her ass. And I’d never thought I’d ever write this sentence, but what in the name of David Gest’s cunt plug is going on with her chichi area? Did Phoebe Price’s chicken cutlets hug on to Liza’s titties so that they could get their picture taken at the SATC2 premiere? If so, those bitches are good.

The rest of the hos at last night’s premiere were almost as messy as Liza’s Party City ensemble. In order: Suzanne Somers, Johnny Weir (still in 1960s serious lesbian wear), Mrs. Rojo, Kristin Davis, JLove, Dayglo My Little Pony, Kim Cattrall, Chaz Bono’s puckering no-no, and Bo Derek.

The Villainess Always Wins!

Johnny Weir’s arch rival Evan Lysacek (that’s Licecheck if you wiggle for Weir) snatched the Ice King crown from former reigning Olympic champion Evgeni Plushenko last night. American Licecheck took gold, Russian Plushie took silver and the Japanese doll with the exquisite eyebrows known as Daisuke Takahashi took bronze. Johnny Weir took shit (aka 6th place). First, let’s queef about Johnny.

To my amateur eyes, Johnny skated almost perfectly, as though he was gliding along the luscious mane of a silver unicorn. When he flailed his arms, the starts twinkled. When he landed his jumps, Lady CaCa’s ass lips puckered. When the crystal enchantress of the ice twirled, Peta kicked a kitten. It was beautiful….but the judges did not co-sign this. The audience booed at his scores, and just when I was about to BOOOOO my figure skating obsessed friend (bitch even has a Torvill & Dean IM icon) checked me. According to that know-it-all bitch slut ho, even though Johnny has the gracefulness of a swan curtsying before the queen in the middle of a Spaghetti Factory (that shit is nice), his jumps just aren’t as complicated as the other skaters. So the best Johnny could hope for was bronze. Way to break my boner.

As for Licecheck, while watching him masturbating his chest all over the ice, I thought to myself, “Tilda Swinton should wear that snake onesie as a gown to the Oscars. Actually, Evan should wear that onesie as a gown to the Oscars.” And I bet he wears a maxi-pad on his pits, because dude sweats like Kirstie Alley when she hears the words, “We’re out of donuts.” Seriously, I thought the hot grease streaming out of his pores was going to melt the ice and turn that figure skating competition into a synchronized swimming competition. And Evan still would’ve won, because let’s face it, the evil queen is good (that hurts).

Now for Plushenko! Wasn’t that bitch mad?! HA! Plushie was throwing cuntfaces left and right during the medal ceremony. At one point, I thought he was going to leap towards the American flag and tear it to pieces with his bare teeth! Plushie did show his teeth backstage when he punched Evan in the crotch bone with his words. Plushie thinks he should’ve gotten the gold, because he did a quad and Evan did not. Plushie said, “It’s not men’s figure skating. Now, it’s dancing.”

Wow. Why haven’t we been introduced, Plushie? Come sit next to me, I like the way you enunciate your cuntiness.

Look At These Fancy Fancy Gays

Marc Jacobs and his husband Lorenzo Martone are here to wish you a Happy Holigay from the fancy island of fanciness known as St. Barts. Could these two get any fancier? My ass uses a Rite-Aid plastic bag to carry my beach necessities and this ho is using a $5,000+ Birkin bag! I’d have to pass a credit check to even touch that bag! And here’s Marc casually dragging it around the beach like it’s the canvas tote bag you get for free when purchasing an Estee Lauder perfume gift set at Macy’s.

I feel like I should lift my pinky when looking at these pictures. They are probably wearing matching canary diamond cock rings. I’m jealous.

Liza Settles The Sexual Harassment Suit Against Her

In 2004, Liza Minnelli’s former chauffeur M’Hammed Soumayah sued her for $100 million, because he claimed she forced him to cum up her roses. M’Hammed said that Liza not only sexually harassed him, but she spit on him during drunken rampages. According to M’H, Liza threatened to send him to the back of the unemployment line if he didn’t wipe the spit off of his face, rub it on her pussy and make it ziiiiiiing.

Well, the New York Post brings the news that Liza and M’Hammed have settled the $100 million lawsuit for an undisclosed sum. M’Hammed was making around $283,000 as her chauffeur.

The image of Liza playing with her nipples while saying, “It’s M’Hammed Time! You CAN touch this,” is going to get me through the day. Or it might be the death of me.

If they ever made a horror version of My Chauffeur, they can use this story as inspiration.