No, you’re not looking at Courtney Stodden’s long-lost half-human, half-whatever-they-make-cheap-dildos-out-of sister; it’s actually the Queen of Halloween herself, Heidi Klum! Heidi Klum’s annual Halloween party happened last night, and obviously Heidi is the only reason to care about that shit. As you probably already know, Heidi Klum loves Halloween. And this year, she decided to define terrifying by rolling up to her Halloween party as a humanized version of Jessica Rabbit.
Heidi posted a bunch of pictures on her Instagram showing her transformation from “Auf Wiedersehen” to “Leiber Gott, meine Augen!” (that’s “Dear God, my eyes!” in German). And basically, all it took was just a shitload of latex. Every part of Heidi is plastic: her lips, her tits, her ass, her ears, her eyes. Heidi Klum got the Heidi Montag special. It’s not so much Jessica Rabbit as it is what you’d get if Jessica Rabbit divorced Roger Rabbit’s annoying ass, but he missed her so much he had a Jessica Rabbit latex mask made and asked every trick he met on Toontown tinder to wear it while they had sex, but he accidentally left it face side down on the radiator beside a pile of purple condoms and it melted. It’s still 10000% more effort than most people put into their Halloween costumes though, so it gets a thumbs up from me.
With all that being said, you know Kim Kardashian just texted this picture of Heidi Klum to all her sisters with the words “Gorgeous, right? So natural. Trying to find out the name of her surgeon right now.”
Here’s more of Heidi Rabbit last night, as well as all the other famous people at her party, including Jennifer Lopez and Casper Smart dressed as Marc Anthony, Emily Ratajowski as Marge Simpson, and Shanina Shaik as “Pour It Up” Rihanna (which is Slutoween commitment, considering it was cold as HELL last night).
Those damn Santa Ana winds (Note: If you’re a weather-themed drag queen looking for a name, consider Santa Ana Winds.) must’ve swept in some serious shit, because my allergies are acting up like Justin Bieber during a Norwegian TV performance. I’ve been overdosing on Benadryl, so when I first saw these pictures of the Today hosts in Peanuts drag for Halloween, I thought the medicine kicked on the “hallucination” switch in my brain. This is what it would look like if those mutant creatures from The Hills Have Eyes disguised themselves as Peanuts characters to lure children into their cave. I have three words for this: MWA MWA MWA?! That’s Peanuts grown-up talk for “WHY, GOD, WHY?!”
Ryan Murphy’s latest show American Crime Story: The People vs. O.J. Simpson isn’t hitting TV screens until February 2016, but FX has been airing ads for it during American Horror Story: Hotel, because they figure that the audience is already in the mood for goriness and terrifying ghouls. And during last night’s episode of AHS: Hotel (which belonged to Angela Bassett and Angela Bassett only), we got to see John Travolta’s face move (sort of) as Robert Shapiro. I’ve already seen pictures of John Travolta in full Shapiro drag, but last night was the first time I saw him speak. It’s safe to say that this show is going to be the most horrifying thing that Ryan Murphy has ever created and that’s saying a lot since Goopy Paltrow once sang “Do You Wanna Touch Me?” on Glee.
In this teaser, Robert Shapiro begins to ask O.J. (played by Cuba Gooding Jr.) a question (the question probably being, “You did it, right?”). Travolta looks like an animatronic wax figure trying to move as it slowly melts in a hot room. I really expected one of the baby weasels above his eyes to fall off and scurry out of the room.
I can’t wait for this. And if you don’t have a Halloween costume yet, you have one now. All you need is a suit, a whole lot of Silly Putty (for your face), a de-stuffed beaver stuffed toy (for your wig), glue and a handful of pubes (for your eyebrows). If people throw a look of confusion back at you when you tell them you’re Travolta as Shapiro, just shrug and tell them that you’re Ray Liotta after getting attacked by a mob of zombies.
I’ll warn you now – there’s a 50/50 chance the words “Poor Chris Brown” will leave your lips after reading this story. TMZ says that around 2:00 this morning, a home invasion and robbery happened at Chris Brown’s new house in the San Fernando Valley. Three armed men forced their way, found his aunt – who I guess lives with him? – and forced her at gunpoint into a closet. They proceeded to grab as much of Chris’ shit as possible, including cash and “other property“, and fled. Chris’s aunt was able to call 911, but the home invaders were gone by the time police arrived.
Chris Brown wasn’t at his house when the home invasion happened. The robbers hit Chris’ house at the exact same time he left a pre-ESPYs party at a club in West Hollywood. This isn’t the first time Chris Brown has come home from partying and discovered that his home had been destroyed. Back in May, Chris returned from a weekend in Las Vegas and found a fan living in his house.
So far, nobody knows who invaded Chris Brown’s house, but TMZ says his mother Mom Breezy thinks it was an inside job done by some of Chris Brown’s “no good-ass friends.” Don’t worry, Justin Bieber – we already know you’ve got an airtight alibi (ie. 2:00 a.m. is at least 6 hours past your bedtime).
I guess this is what can happen if you advertise how your new house is filled with expensive shoes and cars on Instagram and leave said house at the same time every night for the clubs. It’s Chris Brown’s aunt I feel bad for, for two reasons. One, because being woken up at 2:00 in the morning and forced into a closet at gunpoint is terrifying. Two, because she’s related to Chris Brown.
Here’s Chris Brown strolling out of a club at around the same time his house was getting robbed.
At first I was like “Yeah, that’s a bit creepy” but then my brain looked at me like “Girl, you frontin like your jealous ass never threw pins in hastily-constructed voodoo doll you learned how to make by stealing books from the public library”. TRUTH! You could be the sweetest, most kitten cuddling-est person in the world until someone does you dirty, and then the gloves come off and you’re lighting your exes shit on fire and getting suspended for sending nasty letters to that slut Lisa McIntire during work hours. So, I get it, 1992 Mia Farrow. I get it.
Since this is the week that everything is terrible and just reading the words Woody, Mia, Dylan, or Open Letter make you want to crawl inside a tauntaun sleeping bag with a Costco-sized bag of chocolate-dipped Wavy Lays, it should be no surprise that 60 Minutes has unearthed the 1992 interview with Woody Allen where he first defends himself against allegations of child abuse. Ugh, excuse me while I get that sleeping bag.
You won’t really learn anything new from the interview (you already know that creepy turtles be creepin) but he does talk about how after Mia discovered his affair with her daughter, Soon-Yi, she gifted him with a series of angry phone calls and this valentine. If you’re looking at this valentine and wondering where the chocolate is, it has been replaced by a photo of Mia and her children, a knife wrapped in a picture of Soon-Yi, and a small poem to the right that reads: “My child you used and pierced my hearts a hundred times and deep”. That’s pretty controlled for a woman who found out her husband was doing not-right shit with her kids; I feel like the majority of us would have skipped the valentine and sent a hot shit in a paper bag with a note that says “HOPE YOU’RE HUNGRY, FUCKER” instead.
That valentine looks suspicious. Woody says that Mia hand-delivered the valentine to him, but that doesn’t make any sense. Did she insert the knife when she got there? “Hold this for a sec? I still need to stab it”. Also, the knife is through Mia; why would she stab herself? I want to get to the bottom of this; since we’re unearthing everything about Woody Allen this week, can someone try to find out if he signed up for the Valentine’s Crafternoon Class at Michaels in 1992?
Pour out a can of Coors Light for the dirtbags and the dirtbag-adjacent in your life, because today is the day the music of a thousand parking lots and monster truck rallies died. According to TMZ, Poison’s glue-sniffing, pussy-obsessed, good at fixing cars and getting two girls pregnant at the same time younger brother, Mötley Crüe, are getting a divorce. Did you just hear that? It’s the sound of thousands of metal dudes dragging a trash can into the yard so they can throw a book of matches and a bottle of lighter fluid to their acid wash jean jacked with the Theatre of Pain patch on the back. Then, while it’s still burning, they’ll retreat to their Pontiac Fiero to blast Home Sweet Home and cry. I’m sorry Darrell and Steve and Randy; what god giveth, god taketh away.
The band held a press conference today in Hollywood to announce they were hanging up their 30-year-long open penicillin prescriptions to retire to Paradise City (where the grass is green, the girls are pretty, and Axl Rose is the head of the Department of Sanitation). Of course, they’re getting in one last tour before they officially officially retire, because coke and hookers don’t come cheap. So you still have one last time to see Tommy Lee mouth the words ‘do it for the groupies’ over and over again as he clings to life on that drum kit roller coaster.
And the only good thing to come out of their retirement is that Vince Neil will now have enough time to follow his true calling: acting as a cautionary tale/ghost of christmas future for young sluts like Adam Levine. “Trust me kid, that rash won’t go away. By the way, did you know that you can get pink eye from snorting coke out of chick’s asshole?”