No R-E-S-P-E-C-T: A Johnny Rockets Server Yelled At Queen Aretha For Eating Takeout Inside The Restaurant
I didn’t know this until I put that picture together, but my new dream in life is to see Aretha Franklin perform in a Johnny Rockets. I haven’t truly lived a full life until I’ve listened to Queen Aretha holler out “Chain of Fries” while she pulls up the lid on the straw dispenser for me to pull out a straw to enjoy my strawberry shake with. I have a new life goal.
Sadly, Aretha didn’t perform in a Johnny Rockets, but after a sold out show at the Artpark Outdoor Amphitheater in upstate New York, the Queen of Soul really wanted to fill her mouth hole with some ground beef deliciousness. Aretha ordered a hamburger for takeout from a Johnny Rockets in Niagara Falls, Ontario and when she got her meal, she took it to a table and sat down. Some restaurants have declared it ILLEGAL for hos to eat take out at a table, because there could be others waiting for that table and some people pull that trick so they don’t have to pay a tip. But since Queen Aretha is Queen Aretha and can do whatever the hell she wants, she did it. We all learned at a young age to never interrupt Queen Aretha while she’s eating a hamburger, but some little fuck, who was obviously raised by rocks, didn’t learn that lesson, because they interrupted her eatin’ time and yelled at her.
Aretha’s rep tells AP that a young dumb, uneducated server committed an illegal act when they bitched at Aretha for eating her take out burger at a table:
The spokesman says Franklin ordered a hamburger after performing a sold-out show. But he says the server screamed at Franklin, saying she couldn’t sit down to eat because she ordered takeout.
Franklin says in a statement that the worker was “very rude, unprofessional and nasty.”
A Johnny Rockets spokeswoman says the franchise owner is sorry for the actions of “a new and very young employee.”
She says the owner has spoken with the employee and has clarified his takeout policies.
What’s most surprising about this story is that the employee made it out alive. I’m surprised that Aretha didn’t calmly put down her burger, pull out her magnificent Goodyear blimp tits and pound that server until they were ground human before taking that meat to the kitchen to fry it up and swallow it down. That sever is lucky they caught Queen Aretha on one of her good days.
You didn’t think that Kunty Karl would let his pussy of leisure Choupette Lagerfeld spend her days delicately licking rare mermaid caviar off of her maid’s white glove while lounging on a swan feather-stuffed cashmere pillow as her other maid gently cleans her b-hole with champagne, did you? Choupette has to earn her keep and Kunty Karl has put her to work. WWD says that the cat who proved that it is possible for a soulless, dead-hearted zombie vampire to love a living thing has landed a deal to be the face of Shu Uemura’s holiday collection called Shupette. Leave it to Choupette Lagerfeld to sign a cosmetics deal when bitch doesn’t even wear makeup since she’s a natural beauty. Maybe Choupette signed with Shu Uemura, because she’s trying to get in with the cosmetic industry so she can sneak into animal testing laboratories and free her kind. Yeah, probably not. That luxurious bitch is lazy.
WWD says that Shu Uemura is calling their Choupette-inspired collection “the first tie-up between a beauty name and a house pet” and that’s probably right, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Cover Girl gives Grumpy Cat her own collection called Cover Grump. WWD also said this about Choupette’s new job:
Press materials suggest the Shupette range is likely to include furry false eyelashes, and includes a quote from the cat, calling herself “queen of catnaps” and “social media’s most wanted.”
Lagerfeld already photographed his cat for the Shu Uemura campaign.
And here’s Choupette hard at work:
Sorry, human models, your services are no longer needed. Your jobs are now be snatched away by the pampered pussies of zombie fashion designers. Nepurrtism at its finest!
Take this with a giant handful of salt, since it feels like everyone and their dog has at one time been ‘in talks’ to star in the second season of HBO’s True Detective. TheWrap says that “an individual familiar with the series” (that literally describes anyone with access to the internet, but go on) has told them that whiskey-soaked used condom Colin Farrell is this week’s random actor rumoured to be ‘in talks’ with the casting department of True Detective.
Insiders tell TheWrap that HBO was intent on landing a true movie star, someone who could play rugged and gritty, and they’ve done just that with Farrell, who is nearing a deal for the series’ older male lead.
The source also goes on to say that HBO is also looking at casting either Tron: Legacy actor (and the Don Draper to Kiki Dunst’s Betty) Garrett Hedlund or Friday Night Lights actor Taylor Kitsch, for the younger male lead. If only HBO could go back in time and cast Taylor Kitsch in True Blood instead, they could have made that hot gay sex scene even better by turning it into a three-way with Tim Riggins. So close yet so far.
If Colin Farrell really is going to be in True Detective, then I guess this means the second season will still be set in Louisiana, but instead of hunting for a serial killer along the coast, the detectives will be hunting for drunk pussy along Bourbon Street in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. All 8 episodes will follow a greasy hungover human boner with a vague Irish accent as he attempts to get to the bottom of a case of vodka while fingering as many culprits as he can before his partner hauls his ass off to the drunk tank.
Because Farrah Abraham is an entrepreneurial genius who knows that most people said to themselves, “Hmmm, I could really go for some creamy yogurt right now,” while watching her squirt in her porn, she’s opening up a frozen yogurt place in Austin, TX this October. Backdoor Farrah calls Froco Fresh Frozen a “brand new concept” and since she has dingles for brains, a “brand new concept” to her is a place that sells frozen yogurt and other frozen foods. Froco’s mascot is a terrifying “popping boba” named Coba and Backdoor Farrah probably got the idea for it while watching a string of anal beads go in and out of her b-hole. That’s how Coba the Anal Bead was born!
Backdoor Farrah tells Starcasm that she came up with the concept of Froco (she should’ve called it “Stinkberry“) all by herself. Froco will sell fresh and frozen cuisines in a family atmosphere. Farrah really is a culinary mastermind, because I’ve never heard of a place that sells both fresh AND frozen foods. I’ve never heard of something called a fucking grocery store. The about section of Froco’s website (which I’ll get into in a second) obviously came from the shit-filled mind of Farrah, because it is equal parts frozen delusion and nonsense, and it reads like it was written by a dried ball of poop cum:
The founder of Froco, was set to open a restaurant concept when the now first location and property of Froco was available. Instead of going with the first planned restaurant concept the founder had a better feeling about Froco. There was a lot to be completed with an unplanned great concept, so the founder of Froco thought about the possibilities to buy into another franchise of the similar sort but then realizing after being excepted to the other growing franchises of the similar sort that their values, their brands weren’t as great as what the founder could live up too. So with passion and positivity the founder wanted feedback on her Froco idea. After asking others in salons, playgrounds, stores, and just everywhere the founder was set on Froco and the mascot being Coba the popping boba! …
The founder felt strongly compelled to include Greek yogurt in to as many of the food products at Froco as possible which are found in certain flavors of frozen yogurt and all the freshly made to go food items. The founder after moving to Texas at the age of 22 right before the creation of Froco was told by her doctor to better her health with plain Greek yogurt. Being the foodie that the founder is, the founder put Greek yogurt in everything – sandwiches, pastas, salads, wraps, sushi, desserts and the founder was happy to taste better enhancement of flavors with the Greek yogurt in all the food options. The founder found the balance of taste, health, and quality and wanted to bring this to everyone’s lifestyle all year round. …
The founder Farrah Abraham is recognized nationally for her success in entertainment as well being a wonderful mother to her daughter Sophia who at age 5 has helped every step of the way in creating a lovable, positive, passionate and educational mascot for Froco, “Coba” The popping boba, who you may put on your frozen yogurt and feel a pop of passion and positivity every time you visit Froco.
You know, Backdoor Farrah opening up a gourmet emporium that sells yogurt and bubble tea makes sense. I mean, Greek yogurt is a yeast infection remedy (you know that’s why her doctor told her about it) and boba pearls can be used as disintegrating anal beads.
And as for the website (via Uproxx), this morning, a hacker doing God’s work hacked it and on the front page they put a GIF of James Deen backdooring Farrah. Here’s the censored version co-starring Coba the Anal Bead:
Maybe the site wasn’t hacked. Maybe Farrah’s just showing us how the fresh Greek yogurt is made. Whatever you do, DO NOT order the “one cup” special at Froco.
America’s real-est, down-to-earth and jokey-est best friend Jennifer Lawrence continued to be real, down-to-earth and jokey at the Dior Haute Couture show in Paris yesterday when she fed Hermione Granger a serving of her palm. Nerd boys are going to get semi-soft and disappointed when they land on this picture after Googling “Jennifer Lawrence gives Emma Watson a facial,” but they’ll still find a way to fap to it.
THAT BITCH Jennifer Lawrence. I’d like to see her try that hand mask shit on one of my chola cousins. My chola cousins spend at least one full hour painting up their faces and not since Michelangelo painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel has such intricate work been done. They are serious about giving glamour in the face at all times. They will leave the house in stained sweats and a hole-y Garfield shirt as long as their face says, “Just stepped out of a Glamour Shot.“ From the neck down, they’re giving “People of Walmart,” but from the neck up, they’re giving “MAC Store Assistant Manager.” Because their painted up face is their everything, they’re one step away from walking around with a plexiglass mask on and a taser in each hand. They don’t like anyone getting near their Wet ‘N Wild beauty and if I got a tube of lipstick for every time they said, “No kisses, bitch,” to me while air hugging me from afar, I’d have ten million tubes of lipstick, which would last my cousins about a week.
So if some jokester trick ass bitch with “long-haired guinea pig after getting a body wave” hair came at them with her hand, the Academy would have to put a metal loop on all of Jennifer Lawrence’s future Oscar statues, because bitch would have hooks for hands. You mess with a chola’s beauty, you mess with her emotions.
But I see what sneaky Jennifer Lawrence is really doing here. She’s acting like, “Hahaha, I’m just joking around with Hermione, because I’m real like that,” but she’s really ruining Emma’s make-up on purpose. Hermione’s make-up game is pristine and JLaw looks like she rubbed her face between Tan Mom’s ass cheeks, so she’s trying to even the playing field. Well played, I guess.
And poor Hermione. She gets a JLaw hand to the face AND her stylist made her wear a truly hideous dress that made her look like a toddler going to a funeral in Whoville.
Pics: Wenn.com, Getty
When Lindsay Lohan told The New York Times that she was in London to do a revival of the David Mamet play Speed-The-Plow, I laughed and said, “Yeah, and a naked Alexander Skarsgard is waiting for me in my shower,” and then I weeped because the only thing waiting for me in my shower is a ratty, torn-up shower puff and grout mildew. Well, the FAA better warn pilots about flying
pigs Kardashians in the sky, because truthful words actually came out of Lindsay Lohan’s lie hole. LiLo’s going to be on the stage and I’m not talking about the second stage in a Spearmint Rhino during lunch hour on a Wednesday. She’s going to be on the London stage! LiLo should grab that glass of champagne behind her and celebrate. Did I type champagne? I meant sparkling chamomile tea, of course.
Playbill says that
LiLo’s understudy LiLo will star in Speed-The-Plow at The Playhouse Theater in London from September 24th to November 29th. I know, LiLo would sign up for something with “speed” and “plow” in its title. Lindsay Posner will direct and no other casting has been announced, because producers are still searching masochist sites for any actors who are willing to suffer massive amounts of pain while working with that leathery thorn in the ass. The producers released this synopsis about the play:
“When a hugely bankable star agrees to appear in a sure-fire commercial hit, film producers Bobby Gould and Charlie Fox are convinced this is the break of a lifetime. That is until Karen (played by Lindsay Lohan), a temporary secretary, derails the dream. When she persuades Bobby to dump the blockbuster in favour of a story which can only be described as box-office poison, Charlie is forced to resort to desperate measures….”
In other words, LiLo plays a trick who tries to fuck her way to the top and fails at it. That sums up the last 4 years of her career. She’s perfect for it!
I was going to say that Lindsay Posner should say “RIP!” to the hair on his head, but I looked at a picture of him and he’s bald. So he should say “RIP!” to the skin covering his skull, because he’s going to need to rip out something in frustration when LiLo shows up 6 hours late for the 800th time, suggests a pole dancing scene in the middle of act 1 and tells him that she really feels like her character needs to wear a gold Rolex that may or may not go missing one week into the play’s run.
Fun probably-fact: Dr. Oz’s glum “I’m getting scolded by senators face” is probably the same as his “Darn, my poop isn’t banana-shaped today” face.
Not a conversation with my mom goes by without her saying to me, “Well, honey, Dr. Oz says….” So all those senators who snatched Dr. Oz’s wig yesterday better hold onto their chairs and get ready, because once my mom figures out how to find their email addresses and email them, their eyeballs will never be the same again. Those bitches will be asking Dr. Oz if he knows a supplement they can use to stop the burning they got in their eyes after they read a rage-filled email from a level 10 Ozoholic in California. My mom still asks me how to go to Google.com, so it could be a while before she goes after them, but she will go after them one day!
Dr. Oz thought he was in DC yesterday to testify before the senate about scammers using his image and name to sell weight-loss products (like green coffeebean extract) that he endorsed on his show. But surprise, bitch. Dr. Oz got hit with a banana-shaped log of truth when a bunch of senators shook their heads at him for talking up weight-loss supplements to his legion of devoted followers who would tongue kiss a toad if he told them that toads have enzymes in their mouths that kill belly bulge. NBC News says that Sen. Claire McCaskill of Missouri, who chairs a Senate committee on consumer protection, gave my mom’s God a verbal slap down for overselling weight-loss stuff he knew didn’t work.
“I don’t get why you need to say this stuff because you know it’s not true. So why, when you have this amazing megaphone…why would you cheapen your show by saying things like that? When you feature a product on your show it creates what has become known as the ‘Dr. Oz Effect’ — dramatically boosting sales and driving scam artists to pop up overnight using false and deceptive ads to sell questionable products. While I understand that your message is occasionally focused on basics like healthy eating and exercise, I am concerned that you are melding medical advice, news, and entertainment in a way that harms consumers.”
Senator Claire McCaskill, you dun goofed! Now you’ll never be Assistant of the Day!
After those senators ripped Dr. Oz a new one (which he’s probably into because that means he’s got more places to expel banana-shaped poop from), he tucked his tail in between his legs and said that he really does believe in all the products he pushes and he’ll turn down the “flowery” language from now on.
I would interview Dlisted’s resident Dr. Oz expert, my mom, about this travesty, but I already know what she’s going to say:
WITCH HUNT! WITCH HUNT! WITCH HUNT! WITCH HUNT! That senator probably eats too much sugar!
Witch hunt is right! I mean, in that still above he kind of looks like the Grand High Witch in a toupee.
Every time I watch Dr. Oz, he’s always pushing something. One episode he’ll say that rinsing your butt out with flax seed oil will make your shit come out smoother and the next episode he’ll say that putting butter in your coffee gives you energy (Side note: A side effect of drinking butter in your coffee is that you’ll suddenly want to be served by black men in white suits. It’s the Paula Deen effect). Sometimes I want to try the stupid crap he says to try and I know that if I do try it and it doesn’t work, it’s on me, because I made the decision to try it. When are we, as consumers, going to take responsibility for…… You know, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. I’m too busy bracing my ears for when my mom calls me to say that she heard I said her precious Dr. Oz looks like the Grand High Witch and how could I say that? “You only said that because you eat too much sugar. Dr. Oz says you need to cut down on that sugar. I’ll send you some brown rice syrup” is probably what my mom will say.
And here’s Senator Claire McCaskil being the Uncle Ben to Dr. Oz’s Spider-Man.
Actor, reality show mess and sex tape star (Do not click on that link if you went through weeks upon weeks of hypnotherapy to rid your head of the image of Mini-Me mouth boning a trick with his baby carrot tongue.) Verne Troyer posted this picture on Facebook yesterday of a TSA agent practically performing a prostate exam on him during a search. We should all feel safer knowing that the TSA searched Mini-Me’s mini ass crack for weapons of destruction like knives, guns or a copy of The Love Guru.
Meanwhile, as that TSA agent acted out a scene straight out of John Travolta’s personal massage room, Peter Dinklage whizzed by the security line on a chauffeured airport cart chariot. This would’ve never happened to Peter Dinklage.
And in a shocking twist, Sandra Bullock’s stalker isn’t one of those creepy faces above. Keanu Reeves is making a “my drug is watching you sleep” face, Hugh Grant is making the kind of face a stalker would make when he peeps in on you taking a shower and Matthew McConaughey isn’t making a creepy face at all, actually. He just looks stoned as shit (aka like normal).
Seen above posing with all of the co-stars of her past, Sandra Bullock won the Decade of Hotness Honor (Shauna Sand was ROBBED!) at the Spike TV Awards on Saturday night and the next morning she almost had to use her antler trophy to stab a crazy bitch who went into her house without permission. TMZ says that at around 6:30 on Sunday morning, 39-year-old Joshua Corbett broke into Sandra’s house while she and her 4-year-old son Louis were home. Joshua got into her house through a backdoor that may or may not have been unlocked. Sandra called 911 and the police arrested the crazy fuck. Joshua didn’t steal anything. Sandra is currently trying to get a restraining order against him.
People says that Joshua Corbett is obsessed with Sandra Bullock and he broke into her house to go through her stuff. If that isn’t creepy enough, it’s also believed that he kept a diary about her.
Isn’t Sandra Bullock screwing on Chris Evans right now? So my question is, where the hell was Captain America during all of this? What is the point of doing Captain America if he isn’t going to be around to protect you from insane motherfuckers going through your panties?! And if the police tell you that the stalker who broke into your house keeps a diary about you, that’s your cue to either ask Steven Spielberg if he can build one of those dome things around your house or immediately move to a place where no human being will ever dare to go like Jon Gosselin’s cabin or a theater showing Blended.
At the Hollywood premiere of Disney’s kinder and gentler Maleficent, the Ukrainian “prankster” (read: asshole) who is a stubborn crab on Hollywood’s crotch jumped the barricade and got on Brad Pitt’s Burt-Reynolds-in-Boogie-Nights looking ass. Everyone said that Vitalii Sediuk punched Brad in the face and broke his 70s porn producer glasses. Jennifer Aniston raised a tequila shot and toasted to the Ukraine when she heard that. But in a statement of words to People, Brad says that Vitalii tried to do to him what he did to Bradley Cooper and Leonardo DiCatchAHo. Vitalli tried to get a face full of Pitt crotch. Brad punched that trick in the head, because the only thing that gets close to his dick is St. Angie Jolie’s hypnotic puss and maybe George Clooney’s greased up hand when he’s stoned.
“I was at the end of the line signing autographs, when out the corner of my eye I saw someone stage-diving over the barrier at me. I took a step back; this guy had latched onto my lapels. I looked down and the nutter was trying to bury his face in my crotch, so I cracked him twice in the back of the head – not too hard – but enough to get his attention, because he did let go. I think he was then just grabbing for a hand hold because the guys were on him, and he reached up and caught my glasses.
I don’t mind an exhibitionist, but if this guy keeps it up he’s going to spoil it for the fans who have waited up all night for an autograph or a selfie, because it will make people more wary to approach a crowd. And he should know, if he tries to look up a woman’s dress again, he’s going to get stomped.”
A judge sentenced Vitalli to 20 days of community service, 36 months probation and he has to stay away from the Staples Center, where the Grammys go down, and the Dolby Theater, where the Oscars go down.
What’s really surprising is that when Vitalli put his face on Brad Pitt’s crotch, he didn’t immediately choke and pass out after inhaling a thick, moist cloud of peen cheese. And may the entire child army slap Brad Pitt’s ass for using the word “selfie.”