Justin Bieber, the tiny tampon that was pulled out of Canada’s cooch and thrown into America, made Kurt Cobain fans scream, “BLASPHEMY,” while clutching their flannel shirts yesterday when he wore a really ugly Nirvana t-shirt to the American Music Awards. Nirvana fans tweeted about how Kurt Cobain’s ashes must be spinning in the air over this because the Biebs stands for everything he was against! Or something like that. The American Music Awards go against everything hardcore Nirvana fans believe in, so I’m sure they didn’t watch, but if they did, they would’ve probably said a prayer for Kurt Cobain’s ghost to electrocute the Biebs by turning on his mic as he danced in the rain during his performance.
Some Nirvana fans think Justin Bieber should be jailed for tainting the image of Kurt Cobain, but Courtney Love is totally cool with it.
You're cool in my book @justinbieber xc
— Courtney Love Cobain (@Courtney) November 23, 2015
Of course Cracked Out Courtney is cool with it. She gets life from inhaling the fumes that waft off of the boiling assholes of mad Nirvana fans. It’s her newest drug of choice.
I don’t think the Biebs wearing a Nirvana shirt is a big deal, but what is a big deal is that his stylists were probably trying to make him look like Christian Slater in Gleaming The Cube. Now that is offensive. I would pull out my pitchfork of rage over that, but I’m too busy shaking my head at myself. On Friday night, I was drunk and vulnerable (like usual) and I found myself downloading Justin Bieber’s new album. My iTunes crashed the next day and probably because it couldn’t look at me anymore. I need to set up
parental controls drunk bitch controls on my computer so my wasted ass won’t make the mistake of downloading a Biebs album again.
Alternate headline: Damn, Rebel Wilson Really Does Hate Kendull And KYJelly!
Gossip Cop says that a Kardashian-hater wanted to turn Kendall and Kylie Jenner into fame whore omelets when they threw eggs and tomatoes at the stage during an appearance at a mall. The new generation of Pimp Mama Kris’ moneymakers were at the Westfield Parramatta mall in Western Sydney today to promote their clothing line or something when someone on the second floor wasted eggs and tomatoes by chucking them at the stage. Kylie and Kendall weren’t hit, but apparently some of the egg shit hit their followers. TMZ says that the police eventually caught and arrested the egg waster, a 30-year-old woman who is definitely Rebel Wilson’s spirit animal. The egg waster also spit at the cops when she was arrested, so that got her another charge.
The event went on while a bodyguard for the Kartrashian Koven scanned the top floors. I’m sure that while he looked up, he also said a little prayer to God, “Dear God, it’s me, big bodyguard, please get my agency to transfer me away from this vapid trash family. I’ll even take Bieber!”
It sounds like the stage getting egged was a zillion times more exciting than meeting Kendall and Kylie. A mother and her children tell The Sydney Morning Herald that they camped out for 36 hours to meet those drips (ALERT THE AUSTRALIAN CPS!) and were disappointed that they had to put their phones away:
“We only had a split second with them. We would have loved a picture. It was disappointing. We camped out here virtually for nothing just to get a signed photo of them, which you can really get anywhere really. We might go to the airport now to meet them, we have a better chance to get a selfie there.”
Doesn’t that mother know that if Kendall and Kylie took a selfie with EVERYONE they wouldn’t have time to do real attention-getting stunts like touch tongues in a SnapChat video? I’m just going to choose to believe that this mother can’t be serious and was planted by Pimp Mama Kris, because I just… If she’s for real, then someone really needs to tell her that she should skip the airport and take a selfie with a Styrofoam peanut instead. That selfie will be way more interesting and will probably get more Instagram likes.
Because I don’t love myself (and also because I misplaced my memory stick containing all 8 episodes of Anchorwoman), I watched Presidential hopeful Donald Trump host Saturday Night Live last night. And I’m sure if you also made the mistake of watching, there’s a 100% chance you’re yelling “Oh my god, that goddamn laser harp sketch” at your screen right now. Because yeah, that goddamn laser harp sketch. I still can’t with that laser harp sketch. I swear to god, about 3 seconds into that laser harp sketch, I started praying that one of those lasers would magically shoot into my brain and wipe away the memory of watching Donald Trump try to act.
To be honest, I was expecting more of a shit-show than what we actually got. Sadly, what we actually got was 12 minutes of Donald Trump squinting at the cue-cards like a near-sighted rotten circus peanut that pretty much everyone hated. We also got Larry David (who came back to do Bernie Sanders better than the real Bernie Sanders does Bernie Sanders) calling Donald Trump a “racist“ from the audience, but because Lorne Michaels is trolling at an expert level (see: having Donald Trump host), there’s a 99.99999999% chance that was a staged bit. But other than that, my brain was hating me every moment I didn’t reach for the remote and search for a rerun of Pick A Puppy.
But in the event you’re not totally over Hotline Bling parodies, then I have some good news: they did parody Drake’s dad-dancing in the Hotline Bling video.
Yes, that was Martin Short as Ed Grimley making an appearance at the 1:13 mark, which honestly was just about the most infuriating part of the whole night. You mean to tell me they had life legend Martin Short there the whole time, and they went with Donald Trump??? If they were really that hard up for a smarmy dude with weird-looking fluffy white hair to host the show, I’m sure Martin Short would have gladly pulled his old Jackie Rogers Jr. wig out of storage and stuck around.
Here’s more of Donald Trump (you’re like “Yeah, nobody asked for more Donald Trump“) leaving the SNL afterparty last night, as well as musical guest Sia, Larry David, Bill O’Reilly, and Donald’s “third wife” (copyright: Ivana Trump) Melania.
Pics: NBC, Splash
During a recent interview with HuffPost Live, perfect human (put down your hands, it’s not up for discussion) Terry Crews admitted that he and his wife Rebecca King-Crews, who is sort of giving me later-in-life Amber Rose vibes above, went on a 90-day sex fast. Yes, by choice. They chose not to hump on each other. For a whole 90 days. I know, I don’t get it either. Terry says that they both put CLOSED signs over their crotches to get closer to each other without secretly wondering if “Hi honey, how was your day?” is code for “I’m ready to bone if you are.”
“90 days – no sex, all relationship, all talk, all cuddle. I found that at the end of that 90 days…I knew who she was, and it wasn’t about ‘Let’s go out because I know I’m gonna get some sex later.’ It was like, ‘Let’s go because I want to talk to you. I want to know you’.”
Awww, that’s actually sweet. One day I hope to get to the point where I’m on a date and the person I’m with says “I want to talk to you” instead of “For the love of god please shut up about Pumpkin Spice Peeps. I DON’T CARE.” And I don’t know if this is a thing that exists, but can we nominate Rebecca King-Crews for a Congressional Medal of Coochie Determination or something? Because I don’t know how she was able to last 90 days. That’s some next-level dedication. If I was married to Terry Crews, I’d be calling that shit off after 36 hours.
Speaking of, here’s Terry Crews looking fine as hell at a charity event last week, because why not. I’ve also included some pictures of him posing on the red carpet with his hero wife. I don’t know how you did it Rebecca! No really, how did you do it. Waitmates? Was it Waitmates?
And everyone gets an F! That’s not how you dress up as a pregnant Kim Kartrashian. What you have to do is buy 5 of the biggest plastic beach balls you can find, fill them with gallons upon gallons of soil jelly and strap 2 to your chest, 2 to your ass cheeks and 1 to your belly. Once you’ve done that, put on 6 pairs of Spanx and wrap your body in several layers of Saran Wrap before you get 4 of your strongest friends and a truck with a trailer hitch to squeeze you into a size 2 Spandex dress in either black or beige. If you’re able to breathe through your mouth while wearing that dress, it’s not tight enough. So get your friends to cut you out of it and put you in a smaller one. You will know if the dress is the right size if it’s so tight that you have to breathe out of your asshole. After you achieve that, slap a rubber trout mask over your face and get someone to spray you down with orange paint. There you go! Knocked Up Kim!
Before fallen butter queen Paula Deen was kicked off of Dancing with the Has-Beens last night, she made retinas shrivel up one last time when she recreated Madonna’s 1990 MTV VMAs performance of “Vogue.” Whoever came up with this idea obviously hates humanity in a major way, because nobody asked for this and nobody wanted it.
Vogueing was created by the black and latin gay men and transgender women of the Harlem ballroom scene and now here’s Paula Deen of all messes trying to do it while done up in Marie AnTWATnette drag. I say “trying,” because that’s not Vogueing at all. She looks more like a mummy on Ambien doing the Macarena. You’d think that Paula was performing it in the middle of an NAACP meeting, because she was the opposite of comfortable. This definitely made Madge roll in her coffin this morning. Yes, she was in a coffin. She’s a vampire! Where else is she supposed to sleep?
My thoughts go out to the two boy dancers who got a face full of Paula Deen’s butterball bosoms. Right after this performance, their faces jumped off of their heads and are now running all over Los Angeles while looking for a pool of bleach to soak in.
The Australian tabloid Woman’s Day was the first to say that Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise’s 22-year-old daughter Isabella Cruise married her non-Scientologist boyfriend Max Parker at a fancy hotel in London on September 18th. The details were about as convoluted as Tommy Girl’s thought process.
Woman’s Day said that Tommy Girl wasn’t at the wedding, but Nicole Kidman was. Radar piped in and also said that Tommy wasn’t there and they added that he had never met his daughter’s new husband. But then a Tommy Girl source (E.T. probably) told TMZ that he wasn’t at the wedding, but it wasn’t a big deal. Isabella wanted to keep the wedding small and so no parents were invited. TMZ’s source also said that Tom paid for the wedding and had met Max Parker before. Well, now Page Six is jumping in with their side. They say that Tommy was at the wedding and Nicole Kidman didn’t even know it was happening.
Last night, a Liberty Counsel lawyer for Kim Davis, noted Kentucky fame whore and proud killer of gay marriage dreams, released a long ass statement claiming that Pope Francis invited her to meet with him during his visit to DC. Kim claims they hugged and he gave her and her husband two blessed rosaries. Kim Davis’ lawyer has lied about shit before. So when I read about her supposed meeting with the pope, I threw a squinty side-eye that said, “Uh huh, bitch, and Pope Francis also did a quick day trip to California to meet with me and we got drunk on Andre, messaged hot guys on Grindr and re-enacted our favorite scenes from Showgirls. I let him be the Cristal this time, because you know, he’s the pope.” Kim Davis’ claim that she met Pope Francis reminded me of when a girl in my 8th grade class told everyone that she met Zachery Ty Bryan from Home Improvement during a family vacation to the Virgin Islands and he asked her out, but she said no, because she had a boyfriend. Well, it turns out she was telling the truth. Kim Davis, not that girl from the 8th grade.
Australia has joined Canada, Britain and New Zealand in closing their front doors to Chris Brown and declaring their land a Difficult Brown-free zone. By the way, “the land down under is a difficult brown-free zone” is also another way to tell your piece that you’re not into ass sex.
Chris Brown is supposed to take his tour to Australia and New Zealand in December, but that’s not going to happen if his name ends up on the Banned Bitch list right under Floyd Mayweather’s name. Floyd Mayweather is banned from Australia because he has pleaded guilty to domestic abuse and Chris Brown may be banned for the same reason. Australia has let it be known that they may take a Vegemite-infused shit on Chris Brown’s visa application because he’s a convicted lady beater. By the way, in my mind, if Chris Brown tries to get into Australia, Ja’mie King will be waiting at the front gate like:
According to CNN, Australia’s Minister for Women, Michaelia Cash (that’s my drag name, by the way), said in a press conference that the country’s immigration minister may deny Chris Brown’s visa and if it was solely up to her, she would’ve rejected it already.
“I’m clearly not going to preempt a decision by the minister, however I can assure you what my strong recommendation would be. People need to understand — if you are going to commit domestic violence and then you want to travel around the world, there are going to be countries that say to you, ‘You cannot come in because you are not of the character that we expect in Australia.”
The community advocacy group GetUp! has also started an online petition telling the government to ban Chris Brown. The petition has almost 13,000 signatures so far.
Okay, wait. So if Australia bans Chris Brown and even more countries follow by also banning him, he won’t be allowed to go anywhere else on the planet, which means us Americans will be stuck with him every single day. THE HELL? I mean, Australia may ban the Difficult Brown, but they’re not going to take back Iggy Azalea? The same goes with Canada. They won’t take Chris Brown, but they won’t take Justin Bieber back either! We should take this as a threat. They’re all trying to destroy us the same way Chris Brown is trying to destroy my retinas by wearing those jorts in public.
When Elton John recently said, “Yeah, I TOTALLY talked to Putin about gay rights in Russia,” Putie Tang responded with, “кто.” (Rosetta Stone’s drunk, dyslexic second cousin Google Translate tell me that’s “who?” in Russian.)
Three days ago, Elton posted an Instagram post where he thanked President Vladimir Putin for calling him on the phone to talk about the awfulness that’s happening to the LGBT community in Russia. The Kremlin sharted up a thousand question marks over Elton’s Instagram post and they denied that Elton talked to the President of Russia. I figured that Crank Yankers was about to launch in Russia and Elton was their first victim. I was right, sort of.