The world of cinema nearly lost Oscar-nominated Salma Hayek after she gave birth to the daughter she made with billionaire high-fashion mogul Francois-Henri Pinault. Salma tells Allure (via ET) that after their now 7-year-old daughter Valentina Paloma was born, she wanted to turn in her resignation to Hollywood and spend her days taking care of her kid and maybe every now and again she’d use her man’s private jet to travel to a third world country to feed a parched orphan with her world-saving chichis of perfection. That dream was crushed when Salma’s billionaire piece said the words nobody wants to hear from their billionaire piece: “You have to work.” That’s a real “back up and come again, motherfucker” moment.
Send them to the gallows for this!
Poor Princess Charlotte. First, she was forced to wear her brother’s old, used lace gown to her christening and then she was forced to pose in a family portrait without Prince Hot Ginge. I see her “Why me?” head tilt in that picture. I know it well, because I do that when it’s 9pm on a Saturday night and I realize I drank the last bottle of wine in the house. Prince Hot Ginge was in Africa doing charity work, so he wasn’t able to make his royal niece’s induction into the Haus of Jesus, but that’s still no excuse for him not being in the portrait.
Between her hand waving duties and brushing her velvet locks 200 times a day, Duchess Kate could’ve taken a quick graphic design class at the London branch of The Learning Annex (They have that, right?) and Photoshopped PHG into that picture. Like this:
And I don’t even have a certificate in graphic design from the London branch of The Learning Annex. Surprising, I know. If you’re wondering why Jude Law is in that family portrait, that’s not Jude Law. It’s Duchess Kate’s brother. I know, I hardly recognized him without that hot French maid costume on his body.
Here’s more pictures, taken by Mario Testino, from Kensington Palace’s Twitter account of Princess Charlotte’s christening day. I’m slow clapping for Prince George smiling at the camera like, “Haha, I’ve got more hair than my daddy.”
Less than a week after it was announced that she would play a sexy lesbian billionaire on Empire, Variety has confirmed that 50-year-old Marisa Tomei has been cast as Peter Parker’s elderly adoptive Aunt May in Marvel’s upcoming Spider-Man movie. I hope Tina Fey, Patricia Arquette, and Julia Louis-Dreyfus had enough time to celebrate Marisa Tomei’s last fuckable day, because it appears that day is gone. Neither Sony nor Marvel had anything to say about this, but I want to believe they chose Marisa because they’re going for a late-in-life Mona Lisa Vito vibe with this version of Aunt May (both characters are from Brooklyn, so technically that joke makes sense).
In the comics, Aunt May was a frail old lady who looked like she could have given birth to Moses, so casting Marisa Tomei makes sense… not at all. Marisa seems way too young to play Aunt May. Aunt MILF, sure, but not Aunt May. To put it into perspective, the last Aunt May was played by Sally Field. And before her, it was Rosemary Harris.
But I guess Marisa as Aunt May sort of works when you compare her to Tom Holland, the kid who is playing the new Spider-Man. The new Spider-Man looks young enough for me to believe he just discovered his first armpit hair. So I suppose it makes sense that this version of Aunt May should look like she spends her nights getting buzzed on white wine and watching Fifty Shades of Grey with her book club.
Here’s the future Aunt May leaving an Armani show in Paris yesterday.
Ariana Grande Latte is even more diabolical than we thought. The girl Damien in knock-off Charo hair has already wished a painful death upon her fans and she’s responsible for unleashing the poisoned pack of Pop Rocks known as Frankie Grande Latte on humanity. But that 22-year-old demon child has gone way too far this time and she must be stopped. I thought that Grande lattes and donuts went good together but not in this case.
A pro-donut American hero gave TMZ footage from the surveillance cameras inside Woolfee Donuts in Lake Elsinore, CA of Ariana Grande Latte and her equally-as-disgusting boyfriend Ricky Alvarez licking donuts without paying for them. They are the Nick Jr., donut-terrorizing version of Early and Adele from Kalifornia. This is some first degree donut-tainting too. It’s premeditated. In the video, the possessed Steve Madden bobblehead moves her shifty eyes around like a kid who’s about to do bad things before tonguing a donut. (“Ariana Grande tonguing a donut, you say?” – Subway Jared) It looks like Ricky does the same thing, which makes the Satanic hood rat stuff minion cackle with evil glee. Ariana and her dude also touch mouths in front of the donuts, which is just as gross.
It’s obvious that Ariana Grande Latte hates America since she terrorizes the symbol of America, donuts. But she makes it perfectly clear that she’s anti-American after an employee brings out a tray of fresh donuts. Ariana looks at the delicious, innocent donuts and says, “What the fuck is that? I hate Americans. I hate America.” BOYCOTT ARIANA GRANDE NOW!
The donut destroyer has already jumped on her pink Big Wheels and is backpedaling. “A source close to Ariana” tells TMZ that she loves America and didn’t mean to make fun of the obesity problem in this country (HA!):
“She’s a proud American. Especially in light of all the recent progress for equality in our country.”
Too little, too late. Ariana was supposed to headline the Budweiser MLB All-Star Game concert on Saturday, but she dropped out due to getting three wisdom teeth pulled. Please, like there’s any part of Ariana that has wisdom in it. Either she got dropped or the donuts fought back by giving her food poisoning.
UPDATE: The donut-ruining monster issued a longer statement to Buzzfeed about this highly important matter:
I am EXTREMELY proud to be an American and I’ve always made it clear that I love my county*. What I said in a private moment with my friend, who was buying the donuts, was taken out of context and I am sorry for not using more discretion with my choice of words. As an advocate for healthy eating, food is very important to me and I sometimes get upset by how freely we as Americans eat and consume things without giving any thought to the consequences that it has on our health and society as a whole. The fact that the United States has the highest child obesity rate in the world frustrates me. We need to do more to educate ourselves and our children about the dangers of overeating and the poison that we put into our bodies. We need to demand more from our food industry. However I should of* known better in how I expressed myself; and with my new responsibility to others as a public figure I will strive to be better. As for why I cannot be at the MLB show, I have had emergency oral surgery and due to recovery I cannot attend the show. I hope to make it up to all those fans soon. That being said let me once again apologize if I have offended anyone with my poor choice of words.
I guess she was ruining those donuts so that fat kids wouldn’t buy them and get fatter? Okay, yeah, whatever. But what I really want to know is, when is she going to apologize to the donuts and those of us who love donuts and don’t care if they make us fatter?
When you’re trying to rebuild the butter kingdom that crumbled due to the racist dingles that spewed out of your deep fried pie hole, it’s probably not the best idea to tweet a picture of your son in brownface. But since Paula Deen’s brains are made of burned grease and rancid butter mold spores, she (or someone who handles her Twitter account) tweeted a throwback picture of her as Lucy McGillicuddy Ricardo (looking more like a deranged Memaw Annie) and her son Bobby Deen as Ricky Ricardo. It was quickly snatched down, but not before people took screen shots of it and passed it around everywhere. Yahoo! Celebrity says that the picture is actually from an old episode of Paula’s now dead Food Network show.
For the record, the photo itself is not a new one: it’s actually from the 2011 Halloween episode of her Food Network show, Paula’s Best Dishes.
There’s a few things confusing about that picture:
1: What in the hell kind of GD Ricky Ricardo costume is that? Desi Arnaz was never that dark and he never had a Vanilla Ice circa 2015 hairline. Bobby Deen looks more like a suburban dad in a lazy Jersey Shore costume.
2. Why would Paula Deen bring this picture out again? Hasn’t Lucille Ball been through enough?
3. Did that picture ever make the cover of Oedipus Complex Weekly? I mean, a mother and son dressed up like husband and wife. That said, I bet they were the belles of the Motherboy ball.
UPDATE: Paula Deen says that her “social media manager” is to blame and she fired them.
via Page Six
“RUN GIRL, RUUUUUUUN!” just shouted everyone with even the slightest knowledge of who Sean Penn is. Even the crusty sunburnt skin flakes gathering in Sean Penn’s forehead wrinkles are like “Like, sure, we’re close, but real talk – you don’t want any of this.”
According to Radar, Sean Penn is having a tough time letting go of Charlize Theron. Ever since she decided it was time to back away from the perpetually-angry overcooked campfire hotdog that is Sean Penn, a source says that Sean has been desperately trying to weasel his way back into her life. Apparently Sean’s brilliant plan to get Charlize back involved drunk-dialing her after a
Rolling Stones concert (correction: It was actually a U2 concert. I’ve clearly had too much birthday cake-flavoured vodka today). And just like many of us would when we hear the words “Heyyyyy….you awake?” slurred through the phone by an ex, she responded by hanging up on his sloppy ass.
“Sean had been partying with the band, and he decided to call Charlize very late — it was obvious he was feeling no pain,” says the source. “He wanted to go over to Charlize’s house, but she said no way…she refused to be a booty call!”
The source also says that before Sean rang up Charlize, he was “very much acting like a single man on the prowl.” Ew. I just pictured Sean Penn slithering up to women at that U2 after-party and whispering “Hey mama, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for, and that thing is someone willing to fuck me tonight. Wait – where are you going?“
Even after both Kelly Osbourne and Kathy Griffin strapped on life vests and jumped from the sinking ship called the S.S. Fashion Police, E! decided against burying the show with Joan Rivers and decided to bring it back. E! announced today that Fashion Police will come back on August 31st and when it does, Joan’s daughter Melissa Rivers will be sitting in the head bitch chair next to Brad Goreski and elongated ant Giuliana Rancic.
The Hollywood Reporter says that E! will squirt out 6 new episodes and Melissa Rivers will continue to be executive producer. It looks like the format isn’t going to change that much. Melissa, Brad and Giuliana will be regulars and they’ll talk shit with celebrity guests. What I mean by “celebrity guest” is an extra from #Rich Kids of Beverly Hills if they’re lucky. Melissa will also carry a taser which she’ll use on Giuliana if Giuliana says anything even mildly offensive. So basically Melissa will use that taser when Giuliana says, “Hello, I am Giuliana Rancic.”
Even though E! said that Fashion Police was going to come back after Kathy left, I didn’t really think it would come back. I figured that E! would realize that since it didn’t work with Kathy, maybe it won’t work with anybody not named Joan Rivers. But well, I guess Melissa hosting Fashion Police is better than E! “retooling” the entire thing and turning it into a show where the Kartrashians do nothing but rate all of Caitlyn Jenner’s looks of the week. That will probably happen on September 1st.
GOD SAVE THE PRINCE FROM THOSE RUBBER DEVIL MITTS ON HIS FEETS!
Any trick who spits up at the mouth about how the royals never work can eat their peasant words, because they worked two shifts this weekend. Yesterday, Duchess Kate, Prince William and the hardest working baby in the game (sorry, Justin Bieber) Prince George had to smile and wave at THE QUEEN’s annual birthday parade. You’d think that after all that waving they’d have to spend their Sunday resting their wavin’ hands in freshly warmed fine velvet cloths as their servants massage their sore smiling muscles, but nope. They were back at work today at the Festival of Polo at the Beaufort Polo Club in Tetbury, England.
People says that Duchess Kate, Prince George and some other British royal types watched Prince Hot Ginge and Prince William play polo. I guess tiny royal princes care as much about polo as I do, because Prince George spent most of the time playing on some hill. Photographer James Whatling gave this highly riveting and majorly thrilling witness account of Prince George trying to slide down a slope:
“[George] was playing on the bank. He was walking up the steps and then tried sliding down the bank. The older ones like Savannah was doing it so he wanted to do it too. He was sliding down and Kate joined him, trying to support him as he did.”
When a biopic about Prince George’s life is made in the future, I expect that moment to be the most captivating and edge-of-your-seat scene in the movie. But really, who cares about that when we have more important things to talk about like those CROCS!
I know that Duchess Kate and Prince William want their family to be the people’s royal family or whatever, but they have gone too far by making their kid wear CROCS. I’ve said before that it’s only okay to wear CROCS if you’re planting some shit in your garden or if you’re a baby who doesn’t know any better, but I take it back. Because now that Prince George has been photographed in toddler CROCS, I’m sure they’re already sold out and soon my eyes will be terrorized by the sight of kids in CROCS everywhere.
But you know, I bet that Prince George picked out those CROCS himself, because he don’t give a hell and can do whatever he wants. In that picture above, he’s totally thinking to himself, “I will wear CROCS and I will fart on you. I’m the future king!”
Because Cannes is a truly formal and sophisticated event that only lets in the most refined and elegant swans (see: the piece of trash above), they have a seriously strict dress code and will spit on any pair of lady feet that aren’t propped up on a high heel. So if you’ve got medical issues and wearing high heels kills your feet and makes you walk like a constipated penguin, suck it up, trick! Put on those high heels and fake smile through the pain, because you gotta get into Cannes! If you have no legs, strap a high heel to your head or wear them on your hands, because rules are rules and you gotta get into Cannes!