Okay maybe just a few comments: Fuck you, Disney! Fuck you right in Mickey Mouse’s asshole!
Chris Brown continued to make wonderful decisions by getting a gigantic tattoo on his head. Well, at least he’s abusing his own head instead of someone else’s. So there’s that. Chris threw up evidence of his new work of art on Instagram, but quickly snatched it down. But by the time he yanked it down, it had already been saved and passed around.
Complex says Chris’ head tattoo is supposed to be Venus de Milo and it sort of looks like Venus de Milo as seen through the eyes of that amazing court room artiste who captured Tom Brady as his true self. That tattoo looks more like a nauseous Lena Dunham with a plastic bag covering her hair. But seriously, after looking at it up close, I love it!
Just like Justin Bieber’s Sassy Jesus tattoo, Chris’ Venus de Side-Eye tattoo is judging him for all of his bad decisions so we don’t have to. It’s the greatest thing he’s ever done!
When the reanimated zombie corpse of leggings, aka “stretch pants” (as was their alias back in the day) dug themselves out of the fashion graveyard several years ago, I thought nothing of it, because leggings are comfortable as hell and serve a very important purpose: acting as pants when you do not want to wear pants. Then when crop tops did the same thing, I started to get a little worried, because who the hell wanted crop tops back besides the Kardashian family? Now it appears Rihanna has summoned the fugliest of the undead to walk among us once again: STIRRUP PANTS.
Dior’s newest whore made an appearance on GMA this morning to promote the animated movie Home, and she showed up working some Cookie Lyon-meets-Mary Kay Lady couture. Everything about her look was great until my eyes hit those nasty-ass while elastic straps humping her heels. NO, RIRI, NO!
I have a real problem with stirrup pants for two reasons. One, they always make you look like you can’t handle real pants; they’re the mittens-on-a-string of the pant world. Two, I have always been a tall person, so stirrup pants never worked on my legs. The stirrup part would always pull the crotch part down too low, and when I went to yank them up, the stirrup would snap off my foot and dangle around my ankle like a piece of loose skin. It was all kinds of busted.
However, I will forgive RiRi for wearing stirrup pants if she claims they’re a part of her rich alien culture. I don’t know how fashion works on the sexy planet she comes from.
As with most pictures of Kim Kartrashian, my first reaction to this is:
My second reaction is to slow clap for Kanye West, because just when I think there’s no way he can make his dress-up silicone mannequin doll look more ridiculous, he proves me wrong. Kanye really has a gift for turning nearly everything he touches into busted fuckery. I see him throwing a side-eye that says, “I can’t believe this bitch believed me when I said that bleaching her hair with Sally Hansen creme bleach is high fash-un.”
Kim showed up to the Balmain show in Paris today looking like what you’d get if you mashed up a picture of a drowned, malnourished Afghan hound and a picture of one of the Matrix twins in MorphThing.com. She looks like the least popular and cheapest Rita Ora impersonator (and Rita Ora is already the least popular and cheapest RiRi impersonator). The look is very “piss on Kum.”
In short: I love it!
Here’s Ansel Elgort, the dude from Fault of Stars whose name sounds like a Captcha you’d have to enter to get into the World of Warcraft forums, at the AMAs looking like a straight high school boy who was given an ambush makeover by Antoine Meriweather and Blaine Edwards. He looks like a Rockabilly bullfighter. It’s as if someone pushed him into a mom’s closet and told him to use the clothes in there to dress like a member of One Direction. That shorty blazer does remind me…
When I was 18 and 19, my friends and I would go to the same 18 and over gay night at a club every single week. We got friendly with some of the regulars and one of the regulars was this tall drink of YES who pulverized hos with his style by always wearing b-hole-hugging tight jeans and either a shorty blazer or a shorty vest with no shirt on underneath. We called him “Oh Girl,” because every time he walked in wearing a shorty blazer with no shirt on, we’d say to ourselves, “Oh, girl.” Take that white shirt away and Oh Girl would’ve worked the seams out of that outfit.
Ansel looks a mess, but I can’t blame him for smiling. It’s probably slightly satisfying knowing you can still fit into the Sears tuxedo blazer you wore to a wedding when you were 12.
Here’s more of Ansel and his moldy pants as well as One Erection dressed like hipster power lesbians at a funeral.
Robert Pattinson finally unveiled what’s been lurking underneath his hat and it’s more terrifying and ridiculous than we could have ever imagined. The enchanted unicorn forest is now a symbol for a hipster nightmare.
At the Go Campaign’s 7th Annual Go Go Gala in Beverly Hills last night (Side note: “GO! GO!” is what I screamed after looking at the shit that Peaky Blinders threw up on RPattz’s head), RPattz made everyone’s brain explode with the puzzle on his head. I’m going to need Dan Brown to explain this shit to me. The front is giving me “errrr” and the back is giving me “aaaaaaaah.”
RPattz’s head is like a game of Classic Concentration. I see three things on his head: a long-haired guinea pig in a wind storm, Moe Howard and an extra chunky landing strip. Hmm… What do you get when you add those things together? Oh I know. You get this word:
I hate to sound like one of those Robsten4Eva crazies who haven’t had their meds yet, but that is all FKA Twigs on his head. Sure, RPattz could be earning extra coins by advertising Dumber and Dumber To on his head or it could be for a movie where he plays a man who was savagely attacked by a Flowbee, but I’m guessing it was FKA Twigs’ idea. One night while she was dancing naked in a cloud of incense, she looked down at the double lane landing strip on her crotch and thought to herself that it would be really hot if her man had a matching one on the back of his head. RPattz better watch it, though. Because Michelle Rodriguez and Gerard Butler are going to try to lick and bump crotches with the cooch strip on his head.
It could’ve been a work of art, though. All RPattz had to do was leave a circle patch underneath that strip and he would’ve paid tribute to one of the most iconic perfumes of the late 80s and 90s.
It would’ve made a statement without saying a word.
Pics: Getty, Splash
Once again, Anne Hathaway is causing my brain to hurt the special kind of hurt that comes from trying to figure out what the fuck she’s wearing. I should have seen this coming; fashion disasters always come in threes. First it was that next-level tragic DIY-looking star chain glove thing. Then it was that grandmother of the robo-bride dress. Now it’s…I’m not actually sure what this is. A busted two-faced tuna net fungus cover? Sure, that works!
Anne rolled up to the New York City premiere of Interstellar last night looking like she took a spray adhesive shower and rolled around in the LAST CHANCE box thrown into the dumpster behind a Jo-Ann fabrics, but MK tells me she’s actually wearing a very fancy dress by Rodarte. Regardless of whether her dress looks like it cost $1,200 or $12 (that one), here is every thought circling the toilet drain that is my brain while looking at Anne Hathaway’s dress:
1. Anne Hathaway looks like an exquisite corpse drawn by two fishermen, then it came to life The Fly-style
2. Anne Hathaway looks like two casual scarves from Chico’s got into a fight, then fell in love, then started fucking
3. Anne Hathaway looks like Fantine from Les Mis, if Les Mis took place in a post-apocalyptic wasteland run by a gang of fugitive throw pillows
And even though Anne looks like the definition of fug, I can still appreciate that she was brave enough to dress like a damn mess. I will always slow-clap for those who have the courage to say “Fuck it, I’m going to dress like I’ve been snorting bath salts and watching cable access TV all day!”
Here’s more of Jo-Anne Hathaway last night, as well as Jessica Chastain (who always looks like a come-to-life Midge doll) and the Texas T-Rex:
The Los Angeles premiere of Interstellar (aka Gravity 2: Electric Space-aloo) was held last night, and for some reason, Anne Hathaway decided to decorate her right hand with a bunch of jagged metal Krusty Os. NO! I know they’re supposed to be stars, but they seriously look like something that could do a shit-ton of damage. I’m sure many people at the after-party spent the entire night terrified that the DJ would yell “Wave your hands in the air if you just don’t care!“, and prompt her drunk ass to start whipping that thing around like a mace. Wait, do Hollywood premieres even have DJs? I don’t think it would matter; Anne Hathaway strikes me as the type who lives by the mantra “dance like no one is watching, sing like no one asked.”
Then again, Anne could be wearing that angry net of pewter star barnacles (starnacles?) to deter any more journalists from trying to shake her hand. Just because she loves you doesn’t mean she wants your dirty Ebola germs, people!
But as much shade as I’m throwing Annie H for that diamond-encrusted disaster, I legit love it for two reasons:
1. It reminds me of when Charlotte’s 1 million spider babies are born at the end of Charlotte’s Web
2. It’s giving me flashbacks to the mountains of busted-looking Jazzy Jewelry I made as a kid. In fact, I’m pretty sure I made something similar to what’s on Anne’s hand, except it was a necklace and it was covered in glitter glue. And to answer your question, yes, it looked STUNNING paired with my Northern Getaway turtlenecks.
Here’s more of Anne and her low-budget Dr. Claw hand at the Interstellar premiere last night, as well as stoned armadillo Matthew McConaughey and his wife (who sort of looks like a sexy puddle, if that makes any sense?), Jessica Chastain, and Renesmee from Twilight:
Kanye West is a spiked anal bead shoved up humanity’s culo, but we can still count on him to bring the HAHAHAs by making his waxed mannequin dress up doll Kim Kartrashians look like 10 pounds of messiness in a 2 pound sack by doing her up like a day-shift She-Hulk hooker. Thank you, Kanye!
Kuntye and Kummy Cakes went to a movie in Calabasas, CA today and nothing says “casual movie matinee” like a tight, backless bib shirt, dad jorts and suede heels. Since Kim’s mirror is covered with a thick layer of delusion and it constantly lies to her, she probably looked at it before leaving the house and saw this:
Kim wishes her jorts game was as piping hot and sexy as this beauty’s. Kim, leave jorts wearing to the true professionals who really know how to work it.
You know, if you took the Kartrashian out of that outfit, it would actually be kind of elegant, demure and sophisticated. A Kartrashian cheapens everything. If Shauna Sand was wearing that outfit it would like Coco Chanel designed it and sewed it onto Shauna’s body herself.
Behold, St. Angie Jolie’s Wedding Dress Which Is Now The Most Important Religious Artifact Of All-Time
Before pictures of St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt’s holy wedding grace the first pages of the Holy Bible, they were gracious enough to lease the pictures to People and Hello! for their final issues. I say “final issues,” because People and Hello! are going out of business since they spent all their money on this shit.
Because St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt are HIGHLY protective of their personal lives and are the epitome of private, they sold their wedding pictures to People and Hello! and spit out details about the dress that has surpassed Jan Crouch’s soft-serve cotton candy dump hair as history’s greatest religious artifact. St. Angie Jolie tells People that her wedding dress was designed by family friend Luigi Massi, the head tailor at Atelier Versace. If St. Angie wanted a dress that looked like it was marked “irregular” and came from the “take it, just take it for free” bin at a David’s Bridal, then it’s absolutely perfect. To make the dress even more personal, Luigi sewed drawings made by the child army into the dress and veil.
“Luigi is like family to me and I couldn’t imagine anyone else making this dress,” says Jolie. “He knows and cares for the children and it was great fun putting it together.”
She looks like she’s wearing a tablecloth from Romano’s Macaroni Grill after a bunch of kids doodled all over it with crayons. I just want to pull up a chair next to her dress and order some house wine and fettuccine alfredo. With that being said, I’m sure workers are currently removing Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, because they’re going to replace it with St. Angie’s dress.
And here’s Brad and St. Angie sucking face on Hello!
All I see is HAAAAAAAAAAAND.