Chris Stark, who you may or may not know as the star of that awkwardly charming Mila Kunis interview, once again found himself in the middle of an awkward BBC Radio 1 interview with Jennifer Aniston, except this time it wasn’t so much charming as it was deeply cringeworthy. Us Weekly says Chris’s boss Scott Mills spoke to Jennifer Aniston before the interview and convinced her to help him pull a prank on Chris by reacting to every one of his questions with a face full of NO. And she did it, because if Jenny wants that Horrible Bosses 3 paycheck, she needs to first hustle the hell out of Horrible Bosses 2.
I have to give a slow clap to Jennifer Aniston, because whenever I try to prank someone (ie. every day at 4pm when I call my sister at work pretending to be the IRS) my dumb ass always end up breaking character 3 seconds in. But Jenny kept it together the whole time. It’s like she was pretending that every question he asked her was about Angelina Jolie. Meanwhile, poor Chris Stark is sitting there all confused like “Bloody ‘ell, why is she so pissed? Not once have I asked her about Angelina!”
And if you watch this video for anything, it should be for Chris Stark stuttering over the words “bloke’s parts” at the 4:05 mark. BLOKE’S PARTS! Thanks for the charming new term for dicks and balls, Chris!
In case you want to see what Jennifer Aniston would look like wearing a shirt made out of your mother’s living room sheers, here’s Jenny arriving to Jimmy Kimmel Live! on Monday:
I know, this is just an excuse to once again post a picture of Robert Plant’s sleeping chinchilla bulge.
The Mirror today claimed that the head bitch of Virgin, Richard Branson, offered Led Zeppelin $800 billion to reunite and play 35 dates in 3 cities (London, Berlin and a city in New Jersey). Some source says that Richard has always been a major fan of Led Zeppelin’s and wants to see them play together again. They haven’t played together since 2007. Richard queefed up an offer that would’ve put at least $266 million into the checking accounts of Led Zeppelin’s surviving members. The source said that Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones immediately screamed, “FUCK YEAH,” and were ready to sign their names in blood because $800 million. But Robert Plant didn’t exactly cum out a stream of excitement and he ripped up the offer and fed it to his obese hedgehog bulge:
“Jimmy and John signed up immediately. It was a no-brainer for them but Robert asked for 48 hours to think about it. When he said no and ripped up the paperwork he had been given, there was an enormous sense of shock. There is no way they can go ahead without him.”
Robert Plant’s spokesbitch immediately shat all over The Mirror’s story by calling it “rubbish.” I don’t know which part is rubbish: all of it or the part where Robert Plant lost his brain and ripped up an $800 million offer?
I’m glad that The Mirror’s story is made of lies, because if it wasn’t, Robert Plant’s family would have to force him into a mental hospital since tearing up an $800 million contract is an insane act. Turning down $800 million is like turning down a hug from a puppy. You don’t do it. I’m sure many of us shameless whores would do some dirty, disgusting, unholy things for $800 million like say something nice about Kim Kartrashian or wear UGG CROCs outside.
I was going to ask if that tour would even make that $800 million back, but then I remembered that there’s a lot of old whores out there who’d cash in their 401ks, sell their children and commit some illegal acts to see Robert Plant’s tightly wrapped tamale bulge up close.
In “This Is Some Brand New Information That Has Deleted My Body’s Supply of SHOCK” news, The Daily Mail says that Daddy Spears is a master puppeteer who controls every single piece of Our Lady of Cheetos’ life including who she goes on romantic Cheesecake Factory dates with.
When Normal Guy Dave was pink-slipped for insubordination (read: reportedly passing his peen to another while dating Brit Brit) a couple of months ago, Daddy Spears immediately channeled the Millionaire Matchmaker and started huntin’ for a new contract boyfriend for his hillbilly moneymaker. Some source tells the literary journal of truthful truths, The Daily Mail, that Brit Brit is one of those can’t be without a man types and her papa je’e’ thinks she’s happiest when she’s got a boyfriend. So Daddy Spears went on the hunt and found 31-year-old producer Charlie Ebersol.
TLC’s equally as trashy, outdoorsy brother, the Discovery Channel, announced yesterday that they have filmed and will air a special where naturist Paul Rosolie gets swallowed whole by a giant anaconda. An actual anaconda, by the way. I wish he fed himself to Jon Hamm’s Hammaconda. Now that is a special I’d watch.
Entertainment Weekly says that in the Discovery special titled “Eaten Alive,” which splatters onto TV screens December 7th, Paul puts on a custom snake-proof suit (which I’m guessing is the same kind of suit that Kim Kartrashian’s doctor wears when he examines her b-hole) and then covers himself in pig’s blood before feeding himself to the anaconda. Discovery swears it’s not a hoax, but wouldn’t spit up anymore details like how much of Paul’s body ends up in the snake or how he gets out. Entertainment Weekly thinks that his custom snake-proof suit had a cord attached to it which made it easy-ish for him to be pulled out of the snake. I blame Nicki Minaj for this.
PETA is always on time with their outrage, so a quick minute after Discovery announced this act of pure fuckery, they slapped at the network and Paul with this statement:
“This blatant publicity stunt sounds far-fetched, but if the description is accurate, the snake was tormented and suffered for the sake of ratings—as animals usually do when they’re used for entertainment. Anacondas go days without eating and expend the energy needed to do so selectively. Making this snake use up energy by swallowing this fool and then possibly regurgitating him would have left the poor animal exhausted and deprived of the energy that he or she needs. Shame on this pseudo ‘wildlife expert’ for tormenting this animal, and shame on the Discovery Channel for giving him the incentive to do so. PETA has not heard back after reaching out to the Discovery Channel asking them to pull the show, whether it is a hoax or not.”
Paul tweeted that he doesn’t hurt animals and you’ll just have to watch the special before judging the stunt.
I say this every time I shave my pubes into a seasonal mascot for the holidays: Us humans have really run out of shit to do with ourselves. Paul wrapping himself in a snake-proof suit before shoving himself down an anaconda’s throat is like someone wrapping a delicious In-N-Out Double Double in a human-proof suit before shoving it down my throat. In life, there’s rarely a point to anything, but what is the point of this?
Besides, a grown man getting devoured whole by a snake has been seen on TV before. I mean, hasn’t Paul ever seen old episodes of Jon & Kate Plus 8?
Early this morning, every Cumberbitch woke up and after she used her fingers to chip away the shell of crusty tears that sealed her eyelids shut, she opened her eyes to see her loved one holding an open laptop while saying, “It’s time to face the Internet again.” The glare from her laptop screen blinded her for a second and she screamed, “I’m not ready! I’m not ready to face the truth!” Well, hopefully she ignored the Internet, went back to bed and continued to weep while clutching her otter stuffed animal (it’s the closest thing to a Benedict Cumberbatch Real Doll out there), because this totally truthful rumor will make her rip her own heart out and eat it.
As you all know, the Internet was almost buried alive under a mountain of broken hearts and shattered dreams yesterday when Bendandsnap Culomatches and his fancy theater director girlfriend Sophie Hunter announced in a newspaper that they’re getting married. The Daily Mail says that B. Cums and Sophie Hunter are moving pretty fast, because he only started rubbing his cloaca against her recently. B. Cums and Sophie have been friends for years and years, but they just started dating full-time five months ago, if that. The source says that B. Cums proposed on Monday and they told the newspaper on Tuesday.
“It has moved fast, but when something works, it works. They are very good for each other and are very much in love. They have mutual friends and mutual interests in the theatre. It just works. They have clicked. It is lovely news. They just got engaged this week. He didn’t go up to Edinburgh to ask her mum first. He asked her, I think, on Monday, then they rang to put the advert in on Tuesday.”
Because B. Cums put a ring on it so fast, some are saying that Sophie is pregnant and might hatch out a litter of alien lizard human babies in a few months. But a few Cumberbitches think this is all just a STUNT QUEEN stunt to get him more exposure before he begins his campaign for Oscar! I know, getting married is crazy in itself, but getting married to win an Oscar? Whatever happened to the old-fashioned sane ways of winning an Oscar like pushing your rival down the stairs or anonymously telling the media that your biggest competition is a racist homophobe?
I doubt B. Cums knocked up his fiancee, but if he did, we’ll all save so much money on our heating bills this winter. We’ll be able to warm our ass cheeks on the flames of fiery rage shooting out of the Cumberbitches.
But if this leads to Shauna Sand starring in an NBC show titled Bad Mom, Lorenzo Lamas will be my #1 hero and the maker of my dreams.
In the meantime, the ticketing machine in the Ninth Circle of Hell is printing out a special VIP ticket with Lorenzo Lamas’ name on it, because TMZ says that he’s still trying to get custody of his three daughters with the Empress of Lucite and has accused her of being a shitty role model and mother. Will somebody please rip off Lorenzo Lamas’ too-tight t-shirt, because it’s obviously cutting off the circulation to his brain and is causing him not to think right. How can he think that an earth goddess who educates all of the children in the important subject of elegance is a bad mom?! Lorenzo Lamas is a bad human for slandering the Empress of Lucite like that.
Beyonce has a staff of THOUSANDS and she can’t piss without dozens of diamonds falling out of her pee hole, so when she dresses up as Frida Kahlo I expect her to go all the way out. I don’t expect this half-assed shit. How can you say you’re Frida Kahlo for Halloween when your eyebrow situation does not look like two freshly groomed Woolly Bear Caterpillars delicately kissing each other on the lips? For where is the unibrow? Those eyebrows look more like two electrocuted pubic strips and Frida Kahlo would never ever groom her brows like that. Beyonce looks more like my bushy brow-having uncle in drag as Carmen Miranda.
Beyonce dressed up as Frida Kahlo to watch the Halloween parade in NYC at Charlie Bird’s with Blue Ivy and Jay-Z. Beyonce has so much money that she could’ve easily hired a Frida Kahlo expert to gather donated eyebrow hairs from Frida Kahlo’s relatives so that they could accurately recreate Frida’s glorious eyebrow situation for her costume. If that wasn’t a possibility, she should’ve just dyed her baby bangs black and glued that over her eyes. Even that would’ve looked better than those tragic, painted-on frazzled otter brows.
In other Beyonce news, the track list of her possible second surprise album leaked. It’s supposed to come out in 11 days. So from now until then, the Beyhive will be butt chugging liquid meth while refreshing Beyonce’s iTunes store page over and over again.
I know, everyone already had a good reason to not see Fifty Shades of Grey. The good reason being: everything about it. But now Jamie Dornan has really given me a good reason to not sit in the front row of an IMAX theater with my mouth open on Fifty Shades of Grey’s opening night. There’s no reason to go, because we will not see Christian Grey’s soft dick sway back and forth as he whips that Ana chick. I repeat, Fifty Shades of Grey will have zero shades of peen in it.
Jamie told The Observer (via DS) that his artful todger won’t make an appearance in that future train wreck of a movie, because they want to appeal to the masses and don’t want to be too graphic. Jamie dribbled out this laugh-inducing stream of bull caca:
“There were contracts in place that said that viewers wouldn’t be seeing my, um…todger. You want to appeal to as wide an audience as possible without grossing them out. You don’t want to make something gratuitous, ugly and graphic.”
“Grossed” out by dick? Show me a weirdo that’s grossed out by the sight of a dick and I’ll show you my new sworn enemy! But seriously, do the makers of the Fifty Shades of Shit movie know that it’s based on a book that has this line in it: “He reaches between my legs and pulls on the blue string… what! And… a gently pulls my tampon out and tosses it into the nearby toilet. Holy fuck. Sweet mother of all… Jeez.” “Gratuitous, ugly and graphic” are three words most hos would use to describe that mess of a book and mostly because of the overuse of the word “JEEZ.”
It was reported recently that the Fifty Shades fuck scenes had to be completely reshot, because Jamie and Dakota Johnson had zero chemistry and zero soccer mom panty pudding was made during test screenings. So the fuck scenes are going to suck (but we already knew that) and there’s going to be zero shots of Dornan peen? I know we’ve already seen (NSFWish) it, but I was expecting to see it in motion. This goes without saying, but this movie is going to make Exit To Eden look like a piece of hardcore BDSM erotica.
So far, the only good thing the Fifty Shades of Shit movie has given me is the thought of Jamie Dornan saying the word “todger.”
It really isn’t New York City’s month. First Ebola and now they have to deal with Taylor Swift being the official welcome mat of their city. That’s a title that should’ve gone to absolutely anybody in NYC besides Tay Tay. Dr. Zizmor, the elegant dream makers of Grand Prospect Hall and the glamorous master of Trash and Vaudeville were all ROBBED!
Taylor Swift’s new album “1989,” which will probably sell a million copies in its first week, came out today and since there’s a song called “Welcome to New York” on it, NYC’s tourism board and Taylor’s people have joined forces to queef up a terrible, terrible marketing idea. I guess “Welcome to New York” is the new unofficial welcome anthem of NYC, because Tay Tay has been named NYC’s Global Welcome Ambassador. When I visited NYC for the first time, within two hours of my visit I was welcomed by the sound of a drunken homeless guy saying to me, “Hey, cake boy, give me a dollar will ya?” That is the welcome anthem of NYC. Not a Taylor Swift song!
Taylor, who has lived in NYC for about 6 minutes, made the announcement on Good Morning America today (thrilling pictures below) and also said that she’s going to perform in her new hometown on New Year’s Eve. As part of her new role as NYC’s Global Welcome Ambassador, Tay Tay shot a cringe-inducing NYC orientation video where she educated visitors on what a bodega is, how to say Houston Street correctly and what “NoHo” is. NoHo isn’t only a neighborhood in Manhattan, it’s what I shouted out loud when Taylor announced that she was the new face of NYC. While watching that mess of a video, I kept waiting for Tay Tay to tell visitors what to do if a dude starts jerking off on their leg on the subway, but then I realized that stuff like that probably doesn’t happen in her chauffeured SUV. NYC’s newest mascot also spit this out:
“I’m still learning, but I’m so enthusiastic about this city that when I love something, I’m very vocal about it. New York was a huge landscape for what became this album. It’s affected my life in ways I’m not even aware of fully.”
Maybe Taylor isn’t such a shitty choice after all. It’s hard to live in Manhattan unless you caca money and can easily write a check for your $20 million apartment without blinking. So she’s a fit!
I always knew that if NYC was a human it’d be a gay dude and now that it’s in a contract relationship with Taylor Swift, my suspicion has been confirmed! I can’t wait until NYC rips up its relationship contract with Taylor and she goes back to the Christmas tree farm to write the break-up song titled “I Hate The Way You Say Houston.”
Greta Gerwig Is Probably Going To Play An Adult Wiener-Dog In A Follow-Up To “Welcome To The Dollhouse”
I’ve watched all of Todd Solondz’s fucked-up, weird movies (Happiness, Storytelling, Palindromes, Dark Horse, etc…) several times, but the one that speaks to my soul the most is 1995′s Welcome to the Dollhouse, because it perfectly sums up how awful, awkward and shitty junior high school is. In that ode to 90s preteen awkwardness, Heather Matarazzo played Dawn Wiener, a fashion forward, nerdy 7th grader who’s constantly bullied at school and has a home life that is just as crappy. In Palindromes (SPOILER ALERT), we learn that Dawn Wiener offed herself in college. IMDB says that Todd Solondz wanted Heather Matarazzo to play Dawn again in Palindromes, but she told him, “Drop dead, lesbo.” No, but she didn’t want to play Wiener-Dog anymore for some reason, which makes no sense to me, because why wouldn’t she want to put on that white nutsack hair ponytail again?
The Hollywood Reporter says that Todd is working on another Welcome to the Dollhouse follow-up called Wiener-Dog and indie actress Greta Gerwig, who was in Frances Ha and To Rome With Love, is in talks to play grown up Dawn Wiener. Todd is also talking to Julie Delpy about taking a role. THR explains Wiener-Dog’s plot like this:
The script tells several stories featuring people who find their life inspired or changed by one particular dachshund, who seems to be spreading comfort and joy.
What I’m getting from that HIGHLY detailed plot line is that after Dawn Wiener killed herself, she was reincarnated into an actual wiener dog. They better cast a wiener dog who can work the hell out of a ruffled clown blouse and who will keep the Special People’s Club alive.
What I really want to know is, who in the hell is going to play Dawn’s only friend Ralphie?
Glenn Close in Albert Nobbs kind of looks like Ralphie, so my vote for the grown up Ralphie is Glenn Close in her Albert Nobbs drag.