If you Google “Helen Mirren naked,” you’ll get dozens of real pictures of her magnificent chichis and nipples (and you’ll also get a bunch of not-so-real pictures of her getting boned by a twink). But well, those real pictures of Helen Mirren’s majestic tits are the last images we’ll have of her nipple knobs, because she says she’s officially done with on-screen nakedness. Helen Mirren’s nipples are now retired from performing in front of the cameras and they’re looking forward to spending their days getting day drunk on the front porch while yelling at brats on the lawn. Dame Helen tells Alan Cumming in the CBS interview series Remember That Time? (via Vanity Fair) that she never really wanted to show her chichis on camera, but she did it, because it’s not that big of a deal. But she’s done with that now and is letting her nipples live that retiree life:
I never wanted to do that, but I thought, “Pfft, does it really matter?” I don’t know, it seemed to be not a thing to get your knickers in a twist about. I was doing nude scenes from the first moment I started doing movies. It was the era. I guess it’s even more so now. When I did Caligula it was ‘shock horror,’ ‘triple X,’ ‘only in porn cinemas’ – now Game of Thrones is on at 8 o’clock at night, there it is, it is exactly what I did in Caligula. Basically every scene is sex, upfront.
That’s the good thing about getting old. You don’t have to do that sort of thing anymore. My pleasure pillows are purely for my husband now.
Well, the good news is that Tom Hiddleston is baring his ass in movies now, so that may help a little to fill the void left by Dame Helen’s glorious nipples. And the Oscars are shit and don’t do anything right, but hopefully they do something right next year by airing a special In Mammariam tribute to Dame Helen’s legendary (and retired) nips.
Pic: New York Magazine
Almost three years ago, human jewel Tim Curry had a major stroke that left him in a bad way. Since then, humanity has been asking “Where the hell is Tim Curry to show these bitches how it’s really done?” and I think I asked that question out loud while watching Christopher Walken in NBC’s Peter Pan Live! Tim Curry has been laying low and recovering with the help of physical therapy. At last night’s Actors Fund Tony Awards Viewing Party in Los Angeles, Tim Curry rolled onto the red carpet to receive a lifetime achievement award for his contributions to making ass lips pucker by swishing, swaying and serving pure talent in Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Worst Witch, etc… etc…
Tim, who’s my favorite age (69), still has to use a wheelchair to get around, but he told Los Angeles Magazine during an interview about his lifetime achievement award from the Actors Fund that he’s doing okay.
Since your stroke you have made limited public appearances. How are you doing and are you looking forward to the Actors Fund event?
I’m doing well and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve done a few benefits for the Actors Fund and I think it’s a marvelous organization. I hope not to have to use it.
How important is your sense of humor to you?
Vital. Absolutely vital. It’s not tough to maintain. It is just part of my DNA.
When I woke up this morning, I saw all these headlines about how Tim Curry was honored at the Tonys. I drunkenly watched every single second of the Tonys (because as a gay dude who once lived in NYC I like to play a game of “Oh Shit, My Friend Totally Blew That One Chorus Boy In A Gay Bar Bathroom” while watching it) and I didn’t remember Tim Curry showing up at all. I almost looked up information for the nearest AA group, because I obviously have a problem if booze ate my memory of seeing a legend like Tim Curry at the Tonys. But after injecting coffee directly into my brain, I realized he was at a Tony viewing party. Tim should’ve been at the actual Tonys, though. They should’ve cut that ship wreck of a Finding Neverland performance and let Tim sing a Rocky Horror/Annie/The Worst Witch/Spamalot medley as he descended from above in his wheelchair. That’s what the Tonys needed.
Here’s a few more pictures of Tim Curry at the Actors Fund Tony Viewing Party. I also threw in a million pictures from the actual Tonys of Bernadette Peters, Chita Rivera and other Broadway legends like Gigi Hadid, Ashley Greene and that model who got naked in a Robin Thicke video.
Even though the word ‘twerk’ and the act of twerking are as dead to me as a bloated #YOLO washing up on the banks of the River Swag, I can still find some room in my heart to let in one last display of a white person trying to ass-bump an invisible ghost. Immediately after watching this video of Helen Mirren getting her twerk-on, I’m boarding up the coffin lid with nails and lowering it into the grave plot reserved for the Dutty Wine (because for some reason, that dance move is resurrected nightly in my kitchen after my 2nd glass of Baileys).
Because Dame Helen Mirren is the best at pretty fucking much everything, she was FINALLY given the Harvard Hasty Pudding award for Woman of the Year. I’m sure a meaningless award given by an American college might mean nothing to you, but for some of us, receiving a gold-plated snack bowl and getting to ride around in a convertible beside a dude dressed like Miss Chi-Chi Rodriguez is the pinnacle of success. Plus, their award ceremony is more fun than the Oscars drunk booty calling the Golden Globes. During the ceremony, Helen was asked to play a game of charades and one of the words she got was TWERKING. After doing some weird shovelling gesture (is that what twerking is in England? “Just ‘avin a twerk in the garden with a fag”) she finally lets the DGAF wash over her and squats down for a rump pump.
Now, it’s not the best twerk game I’ve ever seen (I once saw a dude twerking at McDonalds for a McChicken sandwich) but it’s pretty damn good for an old one who’s been put on the spot and doesn’t even really want to do it. Plus, she didn’t have any music! If they knew they had a card in that pile that said TWERKING, then it’s their responsibility to also provide her with a couple of songs to pop dat pussy to. And maybe a shirtless dude to twerk on.
Here’s more of Dame Helen playing charades (I’m sure calling someone an Owl of Ga Hoole in an insult in one of the nerdier cosplay communities) and riding the Excuse My Beauty Express through town:
The Ghost of Jennifer Lawrence’s future Julia Roberts showed up to the Golden Globes yesterday wearing an ensemble that made some whores applaud and made other whores, including this whore, wonder where her serving tray full of champagne flutes was since she looked like an overdressed cater waiter. Julia made some best dressed lists (and I’m guessing one of those lists is from the American Foundation For The Blind) and she made a lot of worst dressed lists. This applies to almost everything in life, but I looked at Julia and thought to myself, “Sharon Stone did it first and did it better, bitch.”
Julia’s look made me want to roll up my jeans and dab a little Dior Poison on my b-hole, because bitch was giving me 90s all the way. If you traveled back to 1993 and strolled into a Charlotte Russe with an Orange Julius (aka the Frappuccino of the 90s) in your hand and walked to the prom section, you’d find that dress hanging there. It’s like Mimi’s beehive from the Can’t Let Go video and one of the P.E. outfits from Clueless crashed into Julia at the same time. She looks like the least charismatic member of an all-white En Vogue cover group.
If Julia wore a black velvet choker and smelled like Primo, this would’ve been the look.
Because I really don’t want to throw up 100 more Golden Globes posts (cut to Allison, Megan and I throwing up 100 more Golden Globes posts in the next 3 hours), here’s tons of looks from last night including Hermione Granger giving us a reverse mullet and Zoe Saldana looking like an old snobby lady’s fabric scrap bin.
Helen Mirren doesn’t have any kids, but she tells the Mail on Sunday Event Magazine that if she did have kids and one of them was a girl, she’d teach her to throw the fuck word at any dude who messes with her. Helen says that over the years, she got a lot of shit from men in the entertainment industry and she wishes she would’ve told them all to fuck off.
Add this to long list of reasons why Dame Helen Fucking Mirren is the best:
“If I’d had children and had a girl, the first words I would have taught her would have been ‘fuck off’ because we weren’t brought up ever to say that to anyone, were we? And it’s quite valuable to have the courage and the confidence to say, ‘No, fuck off, leave me alone, thank you very much. You see, I couldn’t help saying ‘Thank you very much’, I just couldn’t help myself.”
So, Teen Moms are dropping kids from their coochies every three minutes to extend their 15 seconds of fame and yet Helen Mirren, who would’ve taught her chirrun a million important life lessons, never had any kids. The world is not fair. And I’m mad at Helen for not giving the world a girl who would’ve grown up to appreciate the subtle elegance of exquisite lucite heels and who would’ve told all the assholes to fuck off. Helen is so selfish!
Dame Helen Mirren floated into the premiere of Red 2 at the Village Theater in L.A. last night and everyone asked themselves, “Why does it look like Dame Helen Mirren is gliding on a sky cloud of angel farts?” (Side note: I know, that’s a dumb question for them to ask themselves since clouds ARE angel farts.) Their question was answered when Helen Mirren pulled up her homely green sack of a dress and showed off her exquisite lucite heel. It’s a good thing that the angels are always hovered around Shauna Sand, because they caught her when she fell back. LUCITE SHOTS FIRED!
This isn’t the first time that Helen Mirren has let the Empress of Lucite know that her throne is in danger. Helen used to wear exquisite lucite heels all the time and she told Jay Leno a couple of years ago that they were her secret weapon of elegance.
“I used to buy [stripper shoes] on Hollywood Blvd. $39, they cost me. I always used to wear them to red carpet events when I was nominated for things, because they give you an immediate seven inches. You’re on the red carpet and there’s Nicole Kidman, who’s like up here, Christine Lahti’s up here and you’re this little midget running around in between them. So I had to have my secret weapon and now everyone’s got them.”
Yeah, whatever. Helen Mirren can pretend she’s a lucite heel vanguard, but can she wear them while walking on sand? That’s the true test of a lucite empress. (Cut to Helen Mirren walking across the Pacific Ocean in lucite heels) DAMN HER!
Helen Mirren left her home in London today wearing a t-shirt promoting As One In The Park, a huge LGBT festival, but the other day she was slapping those loud bitches down outside of the theater where she’s currently performing as THE QUEEN in a play called The Audience. And Helen did it in costume. So until now, I didn’t know that one of my goals in life is to get bitched out by Helen Mirren dragged up as THE QUEEN!
The Daily Telegraph says that during Saturday night’s performance of The Audience, a troupe of drummers from As One In The Park were right outside of the theater loudly beating their shit to promote the festival. Helen tells the Telegraph that toward the end of the first half, the loud drumming pounded its way into her ear holes and it made it hard for her to perform. Helen went on and finished the first act, but during intermission, she came outside and verbally cunt punted (copyright: that crazy sorority chick) the drummers while still in costume as Queen Elizabeth II. You really haven’t lived until you’ve seen a queen curse out a bunch of queens on the streets.
One witness said that Helen told them to fuck off and continued to slap their ears with beautiful curse word after beautiful curse word. Helen explained it like this:
“I’m afraid there were a few ‘thespian’ words used. They got a very stern royal ticking off but I have to say they were very sweet and they stopped immediately. I felt rotten but on the other hand they were destroying our performance so something had to be done. The drumming just slowly got louder and louder and then settled right outside the stage door. There was just a thin wall between drumming and the theatre so it was unbelievably loud on stage. Paul Ritter and I could hardly hear each other speak and the audience couldn’t hear us speak at all.
We were doing this last scene of the first act where the Queen is being told she is going to lose Britannia [the royal yacht], it’s quite an emotional scene. I thought, we can’t carry on like this, they have to stop. I was so upset from struggling through the scene with Paul that I literally walked straight off stage, straight up the stairs and straight out the stage door and banged my way through the crowd who were watching and said ‘stop, you’ve got to stop right now’ only I might have used stronger language than that. They were very sweet and stopped the minute they knew I wasn’t just a batty old woman haranguing them on the streets of Soho on a Saturday night.”
Helen also said that she’s going to find the drummers and give them free tickets to the show.
Why in the hell would those drummers want free tickets when they already watched a private sidewalk performance that was probably better and more theatrical than anything in that play? But really, Helen Mirren should be stripped of her Olivier Award. If you’re going to tell bitches what’s what while dressed as THE QUEEN, then you need to bitch them out as THE QUEEN too. Helen should’ve made Prince Philip hold them down as she beat them with her pocketbook while yelling at her Corgis to bite the skin off their ankles. That’s what the real Queen would’ve done.
Not since Mrs. Slocombe has a British goddess worked a glorious cotton candy mop like this. At the BAFTAs in London tonight, hos of all ages dropped to their knees when Dame Helen Mirren twirled onto the red carpet like the magical nymph she is. Helen Mirren didn’t care that the rain drops were threatening to wash away the strawberry Kool-Aid hair dye from her locks. Helen laughed at the rain, twirled, laughed at the rain, posed and then twirled again. Helen is just at the BAFTAs to get drunk on free champagne, make out with her husband in the hallway and dance in the aisles during the commercial breaks. Helen Mirren is like a human ecstasy pill. If I licked her, I’d probably get a sudden craving for orange juice and glow sticks.
“I saw it on America’s Next Top Model, so I decided to have a go. I know I won’t win tonight, but I’m going to have lots of fun and celebrate anyway.”
SPOILER ALERT: Helen Mirren didn’t win tonight (Emmanuel Riva did!), but I’m sure she just twirled in the audience as Paloma Faith, Thandie Newton, Jennifer Garner, Ann Hathaway, Amy Adams, Jessica Chastain and Jennifer Lawrence watched and secretly wished they could be a 1/100th as hot as she is.
And take cover, because the ego balloon on Tyra Banks’ head is going to expand and blow up after she hears that Helen Mirren is taking beauty tips from her.
I knew there was a good reason for not trusting that shifty My Week With Marilyn movie and this is the reason why. Variety says that director Sacha Gervasi has cast ScarJo to play Jamie Lee Curtis’ mom in a movie about the making of the movie Psycho. Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho was probably inspired by My Week With Marilyn (it was) and it will also star Anthony Hopkins as Hitchcock, Helen Mirren as Hitchock’s wife and James D’Arcy as Anthony Perkins. Oh, and again, ScarJo is playing Janet Leigh. I had to remind you of this in case you forgot, because you stabbed yourself in the eye with a kitchen knife after reading it the first time. Don’t worry about that eye. You’re going to look so much hotter with an eye patch.
This mess of a movie is going to be about all the problems Hitchcock had making Psycho. I’m sure the silver lining in this for some of you is watching ScarJo slowly bleed out chocolate syrup to death in a cold shower, but I say Hollywood needs to leave Psycho alone. It’s been through enough. It’s still raw from getting butchered in that shitrocious remake starring God’s daughter Anne Heche. Let a bitch breathe for you punch it again.
I guess movies about the making of movies is now a thing and it’ll be a thing again in 50 years when a waterlogged piece of cardboard with two dough balls pasted to it plays ScarJo in a movie about the making of the making of Psycho.
At the Directors Guild of America Awards in L.A. last night, the likes of Jennifer Aniston, Amber Heard, Helen Mirren, Berenice Bejo, Christine Lahti, Clare from 90210, Laura Dern, Missi Pyle, Shailene Woodley, Fred Savage, Hunter “What Happened To Your Face?” Tylo, Jean Dujardin and Gary Oldman all exploded into fine dust when they were photo bombed by an array of glamorously gorgeous scene stealers. For some reason, the organizers of that shit made the right decision by placing the red carpet in front of the cocktail area and the background became the main attraction. Those photo bombers lit that shit up without even trying.
How can Jennifer Aniston and Helen Mirren possibly compete with a “Nice try, but you ain’t wearing a skunk tail boa!” side-eye and a Cheri O’Teri-like “Ewwww bitch, go home!” fart face. Aniston is the oatmeal to the photo bombers’ cinnamon raisin. We’re all pushing around the oatmeal to get to the real stars.
With all that being said, where the hell was Phoebe Price during all of this? The red carpet at an award show cannot be rolled out until the ginger wonder rolls in for seat filler orientation. Chicken Cutlets would’ve been the dollop of whipped cream by photo bombing the photo bombers.