Last night, Olivia Benson had her paws firmly shoved into her pussy ear holes, because her human Taylor Swift probably shrieked, screamed and squirted (smells like that Victoria’s Secret fruit spray shit from the late 90s) when “Out of the Woods,” a diary entry set to a Tears For Fears instrumental, went #1 on iTunes and trended on Twatter just 4 seconds after she queefed it out. YouTube keeps yanking the song down, so you can listen to it here.
The country-yodeling Holly Hobbie doll turned cheerleader going through an Emo phase wrote the song with Jack Antonoff of Fun (and the boyfriend of Tay Tay’s BFFFFFFFF4EVA Lena Dunham). If you filled your ears with it already, then the sound of Tay Tay saying “Are we out of the woods yet are we out of the woods yet” over and over again has probably squirmed its way into your head and is refusing to leave. It’s the worst kind of mind control. I want to go to North Woods (aka the Christmas restaurant) just so I can walk out of there while saying to myself “Are we out of the woods yet are we out of the woods yet” on a loop. That North Woods reference will only make sense to you if you’ve thrown peanut shells on the floor like an old-timey cowboy while dining at my favorite San Gabriel Valley gourmet emporium.
Taylor said on Twatter last night that “Out of the Woods” is not her next single. She released it because the song best represents her album “1989.” So expect her album to be filled with songs that sound like something Savage Garden wrote for the musical theater adaptation of a young adult romance novel. Tay told Rolling Stone in that ridiculous cover interview that “Out of the Woods” is about a relationship she struggled to get through. It’s obviously about Harry Styles and I’m guessing that Taylor struggled through that shit, because every time they did kissing stuff, his pucker was extra weak since all of his focus was on the screen of his phone as he texted his BFF Nick Grimshaw about the latest Topman collection. And this lyric:
Remember when you hit the brakes too soon/Twenty stitches in a hospital room.
That’s about a snowmobile accident Taylor and the dude were in. Damn you, paparazzi. You take approximately 2,345,678 pictures daily of Taylor Swift walking from her apartment building to an SUV and yet you fail to take 1 picture of her flying off of a snowmobile after Harry Styles “accidentally” hit the brakes too fast. You failed yourself. You failed us all.
And in totally related news, Harry Styles had the barfs in a major way the other day and he had to pull over on the 101 in L.A. to let it go. This picture was taken minutes after he found out that Taylor’s song about him was about to come out:
— Daily Mail Celebrity (@DailyMailCeleb) October 13, 2014
The good thing is that nobody had to hold Harry’s locks for him, because he already had his hair pulled by like you before doing your nightly beauty regimen.
Last night, Kristen Wiig took a break from doing whatever it is Kristen Wiig does in her spare time (please let it be practicing her impersonation of Kris Jenner for fun) to stop by The Tonight Show and do an interview with Jimmy Fallon in character as Taylor Swift’s former Easy Bake Oven sous-chef Harry Styles. Well, sort of. She doesn’t have an accent, barely knows what band Harry Styles is in, and answers questions like your 90-year-old Pepaw would answer questions regarding Harry Styles. Which is to say, it’s perfect. Nobody should know anything about Harry Styles. Every night I go to sleep and pray that my brain donates a box of all my Harry Styles knowledge to the thrift store, but then the next day someone will ask me “Is Harry Styles still dating Taylor Swift?” and I shamefully answer that I believe he’s showmancing a Kardashian. Then I excuse myself to the bathroom and have a private argument with my brain: “I asked you to get rid of that useless shit days ago because I wanted to make room for more Magic Mike gifs! COME ON.”
Thank you, Harry Styles! My job is easier when the jokes write themselves; an Egg McMuffin basket is coming your way.
Harry Styles (a name that always sounds like a character from an Austin Powers movie) has another album to promote, which means his high-profile showmance with a Jenner is still going strong! Do I even need to specify which Jenner? They’re the same fucking person; dark shiny hair, drowsy-ass eyes, and about as much personality as the busted handle on a shopping bag. But of you MUST know, it’s still Kendall (aka not the one that looks like a dead ringer for Marla Hooch).
E! Online reports that Harry and Kendall (Karry? Hendall? Whocares? Yes, that one!) followed up their dinner date in LA last month with a date at the Gansevoort Hotel in NYC on Saturday. Chill out, moms across America, I can guarantee you they weren’t fucking. Harry and Kendall probably watched Clueless on Netflix while Kendall’s agents, Kris Jenner and Beelzebub, finalized contract specifics (“For the last time, Ms. Jenner, there will be no sex tape released. Please stop setting up the tripod for your Sony Handycam” - Harry’s agent).
After leaving the hotel, Us Weekly reports that Harry and Kendall’s snore-show (I’d call it Ambien! The Musical) made it’s way to Therapy, a gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen. According to bargoers, the two never got up to dance because – DUH – spontaneous natural movement doesn’t run in Kendall’s family. Kendall, stop being lazy; do you want to put “bearding” as a skill on your resume or not? Just remember: what would the Patron Saint of Hired Girlfriends, Taylor Swift do? She’d dance, call the paps, brush her hair 1000 strokes, AND hold a baby at the same time to convince us her and Harry were the real deal.
Fans are reacting about as predictably crazy One Direction fans would (ie. crazy, supportive, happy, crazy) but the best reaction to Harry and Kendall’s coupling I found comes from a commenter known simply as Me:
Don’t you just want to hug her? Oh, you dear, sweet, clueless little thing; you have so much to learn about
strategic marketing and PR romance.
A couple of weeks ago, Kris Jenner dusted off her signature move, polished up another one of her turds (sorry, kturds) and flung it at a high-profile musician hoping it would stick in the form of setting Kendall up with One Direction’s Harry Styles. UK tabloids report that Harry has already packed it up and hightailed it the fuck out of Jentrashian shitstorm and is now dating Gavin Rossdale’s spawn Daisy Lowe.
Kris is supposedly pissed that Daisy fucked up her Kim/Kanye 2.0 plan and stole Harry away. If Daisy is smart, she’ll become fast friends with Leah Remini to get some tips on how to handle the wrath of religious zealots knowing that the High Priestess of The Church of Latter Day Taints is going to come for her ass. Nobody fucks with Kris Jenner or her ilk without doing it on camera for publicity, especially since ratings for their show are down. The last thing Daisy will see before her coffin slides shut is Kris’s face, who will be so pissed her face will ALMOST move.
If it wasn’t against the fame whore way, I’d guess Kendall is in a basement somewhere trading stories with Solange Knowles about failing the family, but this is PMK we’re talking about. Kris probably just dragged Kendall to their lip injection doctor as punishment, then smacked her upside the head and threw her out of the car at The Grove and told her not to come home until she had at least two dozen pap shots in the bank.
Here are some pics of One Direction at the airport after flying in for an SNL appearance. I can’t figure out if the guy hanging all over Zayne is helping him walk because he’s drunk or high or if the guy is just angling for an unsolicited piggy back ride. Fangirls come in all shapes and sizes!
Well, here’s something that will make your eyeballs fax the message: “Can you help me process this??” to your brain (don’t count on your brain to respond with anything helpful; mine just faxed a Flaming Hot Cheetos bag in return). Everything about this picture of Harry Styles is confusing me, because up top says ‘Hot wig mess‘ but down low says ‘I’m 19 and you can talk about my legs without being put on some kind of internet watch-list‘. It’s problematic to say the least.
Harry Styles and Nick Grimshaw (Google that if you want an extra shot of hot in your day-drink) put on their best Amanda Bynes court-wigs to crash Poppy Delevingne’s ”hen party” in London last night. Later, Harry removed his wig and replaced it with a creepy elephant head, because those weird One Direction-themed nightmares you’ve been having aren’t terrifying enough.
I’m pretty sure that a “hen party” is just a fancy British way of saying bachelorette party; but it’s England, so I doubt it’s the same. Can you imagine fancies like Poppy Delevigne and Alexa Chung slurping slippery nipples out of penis-shaped shot-glasses and drunkenly screaming Salt-N-Pepa’s Push It over a busted karaoke machine? Unless they do that sort of thing over there. In which case, I hope they saved Harry a piece of penis cake.
(Pics via Splash)
The whoring of the one who showed her nipples on Instagram is right on schedule!
Since Kim Kardashian’s expiration date as Pimp Mama Kris’ highest-earning prized pig is coming up, PMK is working overtime to groom KendallKylieKukaWhatever Jenner and get her ready to take over as the family’s new headlining ho. 18-year-old Kendall went to dinner in West Hollywood with one of Taylor Swift’s leftovers, 19-year-old Harry Styles, last night. The sound of PMK squirting over all the attention these pics are getting is drowning out the sound of all the Directioners bawling while punching their eyeballs out in their playpens. But you know, Kendall has a long way to go before she completely transforms into Kim Kartrashian 2.0.
The Daily Mail has a few pictures of Kendall’s face, but in the pictures from the photo agency I get shit from, she has her head down and is covering her mug. She could be that demon girl from The Grudge (no disrespect to that demon girl from The Grudge) or Steven Tyler for all we know. I wouldn’t know she was one of those Jenner things if the photo agency didn’t tell me. Once PMK finishes celebrating these staged photos by cackling while dancing on the bones her sacrifices, she’s going to punish this girl.
The second a Kardashian or a Jenner or a whatever (see: Khloe) is pulled out of PMK’s body, the first thing she asks the doctor is, “Who cares about that healthy stuff, did it find the light with its face and smile at the camera?” The first rule of being a Kartrashian is: always make sure the goddamn camera gets your face. Hiding your face from the camera is a serious Kardashi-sin. It’s as sinful as the time that I was playing with the remote in my abuelita’s room and accidentally hit the off button while she was watching her novelas. The Jesus hanging on a crucifix above the TV pulled his hands off of the cross so that he could cover his eyes. He knew something serious was about to go down.
So I’m sure that sometime today, PMK is going to drag Kendall down to the plastic surgery clinic in their basement and get a rod permanently installed below her chin so she can never drop her head again. That’ll teach that trick!
I always thought Taylor Swift was a “been there, done that, wrote a hit song about it” kind of trick, so I figured that when she and Maggie Gyllenhaal’s hair twin Harry Styles didn’t re-negotiate their contract in January, she’d troll the playrooms at award shows for the next barely legal white twink pop star to write songs about for her next album. But Ninemsn’s TheFIX says that Harry is once again squirting glaze on Taylor’s heart-shaped strawberry tart. That is not a euphemism. Taylor’s idea of a sexy Saturday night is making heart-shaped strawberry tarts. If she’s really into it, she’ll let her piece sprinkle his sugar on her pound cake donut.
Some source says that Taylor and Harry started talking again after running into each other at the VMAs. Taylor is house hunting in London (because you can never have too many houses that look a fancy Red Robin) and Harry offered to help her. The source burped this up:
“When Taylor confided in Harry during a phone conversation how she wanted to live somewhere close to him in North London whilst she was in Europe working, Harry quickly was on hand to help.They still have feelings for each other. She’s definitely still in love with him and he’s got a massive soft spot for her. They’ll see how it works at Christmas and make it official in the New Year.”
I really, really hope that Taylor’s search for the perfect house to stalk Harry Styles from is filmed for an episode of House Hunters International, because that would be the best episode ever. “I really like this balcony. I can see myself sipping my morning cup of scorned boy tears here.” “I really hate the color of these walls, but that’s okay, because I’m going to cover them with the blood of my next victim anyway.” “I really like the ceiling height. I can hang my full-size replica of Captain Hook’s pirate ship in here.” “This kitchen doesn’t have a wall mounted Easy Bake Oven?! I told you that was at the top of my list!”
And as for Harry and Taylor getting back together, I’ll believe it when I see another picture of them doing the Dirty Dancing lift on Twitter. Harry’s a slut and Taylor’s not going to give up the coochie again. She might let him stick the tip in her b-hole, but the v is for serious boyfriends only!
Speaking of Taylor’s dudes, in their cover story on how Taylor is the BIGGEST POP STAH IN DA WORLD, New York Magazine asked her how her past boyfriends have reacted to her writing songs about them.
“I heard from the guy that most of Red is about. He was like, ‘I just listened to the album, and that was a really bittersweet experience for me. It was like going through a photo album.’ That was nice. Nicer than, like, the ranting, crazy e-mails I got from this one dude. It’s a lot more mature way of looking at a love that was wonderful until it was terrible, and both people got hurt from it—but one of those people happened to be a songwriter.”
The crazy, ranting bitch was obviously John Mayer. I bet he also e-mailed her a few viruses to go with the viruses he probably gave her twat.
While the singing band of twinks in jeggings we all know as One Erection were presenting Best Pop Video at the MTV VMAs last night, the camera cut to Taylor Swift and it looked like she was saying “shut the fuck up” to her former Easy Bake Oven sous chef and cuddle partner Harry Styles. Both MTV and HuffPo think she was telling Harry to shut the mouth that she once kissed through her hand during a game of spin the bottle in her stuffed animal room. But I studied this highly important GIF and it doesn’t look like the fuck word is coming out of her mouth hole. Side note: I do not recommend spending the first part of your Monday morning watching Taylor Swift’s mouth move over and over again, because I think she hypnotized me and now I really have the urge to make jam out of tears and the blood of my ex-boyfriends.
You know, I’m all for a trick telling any member of One Direction to “shut the fuck up,” but to me it looks like Taylor is saying, “Sorry my arm.” Let’s watch the video, because this is extremely important and none of us will be able to move on with our lives if we don’t know what Taylor said.
I’m sure the country’s most esteemed lip readers will clear their schedule and study this for hours, if not days, before telling us that she’s really saying, “John Mayer gave me herpes.” That makes the most sense. And Taylor may or may not have brought the bitchery when Harry Styles was one stage, but she brought it when she won Best Female Video for “I Knew You Were Trouble.” Taylor said:
“Thank you. Wow. I want to thank the fans because I tweeted about this a lot, I really really wanted this. I also want to thank the person that inspired this song, and he knows exactly who he is, because I got one of these!”
There she is! There’s the 8th grade bitchy mean girl we all know.
And here’s Taylor done up like a middle-aged, drunk cabaret singer from the 1930s.
Somebody please give me the number to Child Services and Animal Services in Britain, because somebody needs to report the motherfucker who did that to this child and the tortured animal on his head. And yes, I’m typing this while my own hair looks like a pile of hacked-up fur balls that was dried in an oven, teased with a broken fork and electrocuted, but we’re not talking about me here!
99% of the population in London is temporarily deaf right now, because thousands of Directioners screamed their tonsils off at the premiere of One Direction: This Is Us 3D tonight. The screams obviously scared Harry Styles’ hair, because that thing looks spooked as fuck. It looks traumatized. I don’t even know what’s going on with his hair. The top of his hair wants to be a pompadour, the back wants to be the party section of a mullet and the sides are giving me Dorothy Dandridge. It’s like three different people worked on that shit.
When you look at him from the front, you think to yourself, “That’s a whack ass Zac Efron impersonator!” When you look at him from the back, you think to yourself, “That’s a whack ass Billy Ray Cyrus impersonator!” And when you look at him from the side, you think to yourself, “Bless that Hasidic toddler for trying and failing to grow a pair of majestic side curls.”
And Harry might’ve looked a mess at tonight’s premiere, but at least one of his fans kept it one hundred percent sexy. Presenting…the hottest Directioner of them all!
Work that towel, girl! Just don’t tell us what you do with that towel when the lights go off and the One Direction songs come on.
Since crazy Directions will buy anything with One Direction’s name on it, the band of yodeling English and Irish twinkies are putting out a perfume called “Our Moment.” (The full title is: “It’s Our Moment So We’re Going To Make As Many Millions As We Can Before A New Group of Singing Fetuses Hatches And Takes Away Out Thunder.”) “Our Moment” could smell like the sewage system under a colonic clinic mixed with the scent a cokehead’s tonsil stones and those Directioners would still bathe in it, douche with it and gargle with it. So it makes sense that they’re putting out a bottle of stank, and to get their fans pre-creaming over its release in August, they put out a commercial.
Millions of Directions are currently numb from the waist down and flopping around on the floor and it’s all because about five seconds into the commercial, Harry Styles kisses the skinny one Zayn on the cheek. Those bitches know what they’re doing. Even though my heart doesn’t feel anything, that kiss is sort of sweet and it’s all because Harry Styles still looks like a quirky silent movie ingenue to me. And really, there’s so much twinkie homoeroticism in that commercial that it looks like a trailer for XY: THE MOVIE.
And hopefully for Harry Styles’ sake scientists discover that there’s so much acid in “Our Moment” that it can also be used to burn off tattoos you regret getting.