Late last year, news about yet another Beverly Hills, 90210 reboot/revival/whatever was burped up when Jennie Garth, Tori Spelling, Ian Ziering, Jason Priestley, and Brian Austin Green were papped getting coffee in between laughably pitching to networks. I say “laughably,” because I can only imagine how raw the vocal cords of network executives got as they laughed uncontrollably while Jennie and company seriously pitched a 90210 reboot without The Forever Queen of 90210 that is Brenda Walsh. 90210 without Brenda Walsh is like broccoli without mayonnaise. It’s boring, bland, and nobody wants it. And like broccoli with mayonnaise, if you don’t like Brenda Walsh, you obviously have no taste and don’t know what you’re talking about!
But I guess FOX needed a tax write-off, because they bought the 90210 reboot that will be 100% Brenda-less.
Last week, we all threw several black lace mourning veils over our faces to mourn the death of every member of The Supremes, Gladys Knight, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, and literally every singer not named Jennifer Lopez, because that was the only explanation for why the Grammy people chose JLo to headline their tribute to Motown. I thought that maybe after the Grammys were hit with a million and one side-eyes for that decision, they’d make the right decision by replacing her with a hastily-made Marvin Gaye hologram or even Rancho Cucamonga’s third most popular The Temptations tribute group performing to a track blasting out of an iPhone 5. Even Diana Ross’ grandson and fucking Jaden Smith did a better tribute to Motown and it wasn’t even a tribute to Motown.
But the Grammys went through with it and JLo delivered the kind of Motown “tribute” you’d see at 2:30 in the afternoon on a Tuesday at a 2-star casino motel outside of Laughlin, NV. They should’ve went all the way with that vibe by putting a stale potato bar on the stage, along with a chain-smoking gambling addict who’d yell at JLo, doing double duty as his cocktail waitress, to get his G&T already.
No offense to Us Weekly. Their covers are better.
There’s been many rumors about how Conde Nast is looking to push out the Dark High Priestess of Fashion Anna Wintour, but they have always denied that shit. But I wouldn’t label you as a dirty lie-teller if you told me that the rumors are true, and Anna Wintour knows her days of terrorizing Vogue are coming to an end, which is why she’s burning that bitch to the ground by turning it into a third-tier tabloid. See: Justin Bieber and Hailey Baldwin Bieber on March’s cover looking liked a bored dead-inside rich Central Florida housewife humping on her just-released-from-juvi teenage pool boy lover. Honestly, it would be more interesting and edgy if Anna gave the cover of Vogue to an actual bored dead-inside rich Central Florida housewife and her just-released-from-juvi teenage pool boy lover.
I wonder how many people on set had to resist the urge to pluck those pills off of Hailey’s dress, because they needed something to make them forget these two are going to be on the cover of Vogue?
Glenn Close deserves another award for acting like she’s grateful to tie with that lesser!
WTF was redefined twice last night at the Critics’ Choice Awards when two categories saw ties. TIES! There was a tie for Best Actress in a Limited Series or Movie Made for Television when both Amy Adams (for Sharp Objects) and Patricia Arquette (for Escape at Dannemora) won. And the legendary Glenn Close tied for Best Actress in a movie with amateur actress Lady Gaga. Glenn Close is a professional, so she didn’t do what she should’ve done, which is to sashay up to the mic and say, “You hate me. You really fucking hate me!”
The main reason for why I’ve never gotten a woman pregnant is a little thing called “being gayer than a strawberry lube-scented fart out of a power bottom flamingo’s ass.” But now I know that the other reason why I’ve never gotten a woman pregnant is because as soon as she said the words, “Will you give up booze and coffee with me?“, I’d Billy Crudup her by leaving her pregnant ass for another trick, the other trick being hot rum coffee, of course. But not Prince Hot Ginge! PHG’s vodka-snorting days are so long gone that he actually broke up with the sweet nectar. And not only that, but he also temporarily ended things with coffee and tea after Duchess Meghan asked him to. Is PHG trying to give his memaw THE QUEEN a heart attack? Because that’s what might happen if he says “no thanks” to an offer of a gin or some tea.
If you’ve got a SAG member in your life and they offer you a toke from their bong, immediately turn down their offer, because they’re obviously smoking the wrong kind of strain.