After their marriage bit and swallowed the dust, Kaley Cuoco and her husband of a second Ryan Sweeting learned a lesson many of us hos already knew: It’s probably not the best idea to marry a trick and honor your “love” with a tattoo minutes after you touched genitals for the first time. Kaley got their wedding date inked into her back and Ryan got her name tattooed on his arm. As soon as I saw Kaley’s tattoo, my cynical ass figured that in the future she’d either have to laser it off or she’d have to marry her next husband on New Year’s or she’d have to cover that mess up with another tattoo. Kaley did the latter and today, she Instagrammed a picture of what she covered it up with. Her back now looks like an unfinished Silence of the Lambs poster. Buffalo Bill’s going to think that Kaley is flirting with him.
Kaley thanked the tattoo artiste who erased her wedding date from her back and also added that she got a moth tattoo because it got the job done:
Thank you @nero_sct @studiocitytattoo for helping me right my wrongs.. note to self- do not mark your body with any future wedding dates #under30mistakes #donttakeyourselftooseriouslykids
the deep, meaningful, larger than life meaning behind this beautiful piece of ink, is….. It covered the last one.
Moths are annoying and are attention whores who are always trying to hog up the light, so that tattoo is perfect! But really, I actually like it for 3 reasons. If you look at the bottom of the moth, it looks like a short dick with two wart-covered nuts. The best kind of tattoo is a tattoo that has a peen on it.
And here’s Kaley in Colonel Sanders cosplay at a dog charity event a few days ago:
You know, I was really hoping that break-up Gwen Stefani would really show out and hit the American Music Awards red carpet in nothing but nipples pasties, a pussy patch, exquisite Lucite heels and the words “Fuck That Cheating Slut Gavin Rossdale” scribbled onto her body in glitter marker. But instead of doing that, Gwen disappointed us all by showing up looking like a rejected Valley of the Dolls extra who got tangled up in the curtains while working a day shift at a goth-themed whore house. This is not the “I’M SINGLE NOW” outfit I was hoping she’d wear.
Warning: This is what happens when you bone Blake Shelton regularly. You dress like Kanye West styled you. This is like the look-for-less version of Barbra Streisand’s 1960s Oscar ensemble.
Gwen also performed her new song Used To Love You and she traded in her “fembot at a funeral” look for “albino predator caught in a fishnet.”
I said in my first sentence that I wish Gwen would’ve slapped Gavin down with her outfit, but I think she did that in her performance. I don’t know sign language, but I’m pretty sure the interpretive background dancers are signing the words,“Eat shit Gavin Rossdale,” with their bodies.
When Duchess Kate wore a homely dress made out of dusty old curtains to the Spectre premiere in London, I joked that not even Dame St. Angie Jolie, the reigning empress of grandma dresses, would wear that matronly mess. Well, I sit corrected, because here’s St. Angie Jolie last night wearing a dowdy ass dress that could be directly related to Duchess Kate’s dowdy ass dress.
Last night, St. Angie and Brad Pitt blessed a City Cinemas theater in NYC by doing a Q&A after a screening of By The Sea. St. Angie looks like a 1970s cult leader’s wife going to the daytime wedding of someone she doesn’t really like and Brad Pitt looks like a standby in an all-grown-ups community theater production of Newsies who is always told to lighten up on the pancake makeup. I would do a “Who Wore It Better?” between St. Angie and Duchess Kate, but doing so would go against God and THE QUEEN, so I’ll just say that Tootsie wore it better since I’m sure she wore both dresses at one point.
And in other St. Angie stuff, she did an interview with The New York Times and the subject of Scott Rudin calling her a “minimally-talented spoiled brat” in those hacked Sony emails came up. St. Angie has refused to talk about that mess before, but she talked about it a little with the Times. She claims she didn’t read the e-mails (uh huh), but someone told her about them and it didn’t bother her that Scott Rudin trashed her. Sure, she called up heaven and told them to scratch his name off of the entrance list (and heaven let her know that they scratched his name off a long time ago for remaking The Stepford Wives), but she mostly cared about how Amy Pascal felt:
“Someone told me. There are certain things that bother me and certain things that don’t. Personal attacks on me? I think I’m just so used to it. Honestly, my first instinct was that I was worried about Amy. I had someone call her and ask if she was O.K. Not because I’m a saint, but because I think we have to look at the bigger picture. She’s got kids. I knew it was going to unravel for her.”
“Not because I’m a saint” is such a saint thing to say!
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: