WARNING: Watching this video of Barbara Walters talking about fucking her dusty babawawa biscuit with a vibrator named Selfie on The View may be harmful to your health. Uncommon but serious side effects of viewing this video may include:
Filing for divorce from the area of the brain that holds memories, a shame erection, thoughts of suicide (following shame erection), anti-arousal (also known as Sahara Syndrome), a written complaint from your gag reflex, the condition known as Nope Face, bargaining with a higher power for the existence of Men in Black mind-erase things. If you experience a sudden loss in vision, do not be alarmed; it is common for parts of your body to peace the fuck out during a traumatic event.
And I’m all for oldies getting theirs, but I’d rather stick to a ‘don’t ask, please for the love of god don’t tell’ policy when it comes to the details of memaws and pawpaws doing the one-armed Charleston. Barbara, I’m happy you’re (shudder) masturbating, but we don’t need to know anymore about Selfie. We don’t need to know what kind it is, where you bought it, where you use it, or who you’re using it to. But if I had to guess, it’s probably an old picture of Calvin Coolidge, right? No, wait, don’t answer that.
Since there was no video of Kanye West going all Million Dollar Baby on that racist 18-year-old who said awful shit to Kim Kardashian at a Beverly Hills chiropractor’s office, I was forced to be creative and imagine what the fight looked like in my head. After my brain hit the snooze button 7 times, it finally rolled out of bed and painted a picture of Kanye busting out his sharpest hood rat moves by handing Kim his daughter and saying “Yo, hold my kid” before bitch-slapping that mouthy motherfucker. Yes, my brain imagined Kanye as Maritza from Orange is the New Black.
But that never happened. According to TMZ, it was actually way more violent and involved little-to-no wig-snatching (is it even considered a fight if a wig doesn’t get snatched?) An eyewitness claims that after Kim identified the kid, Kanye literally took him to downtown pound down 30 times:
The 18-year-old was sitting in a chair as Kanye made a beeline for him and, without saying a word, started slugging him in the face. The kid was covering his face but Kanye was unrelenting. Kim just stood there and silently watched the beating.
Kim stood there silently and watched while Kanye punched someone 30 times? Daaaaamn, Gina; that’s some Goodfellas shit. I knew Kim’s thing was getting a pussy get pounded hard by a black dude, but this is, as Cousin Balki would say, ridiculous.
If you’ve ever punched someone in the face (shout out to all the readers in lock-up!) you know that it feels like your fist is exploding into a million hateful wasps, so even doing it once is an instant regret. But to do it 30 times? 30 punches is marathon-level fisting; who knew Kanye would have the stamina needed to repeatedly pound a dude in the – oh wait, it all makes sense now.
And how did that kid survive 30 blows to the head? Unless Kanye was grabbing his hand and going “stop punching yourself” 30 times, that kid should be, by all accounts, dead, brain dead, or just a body with a mushy pile where his head used to be. Unless he’s some kind of self-healing mutant, like Wolverine; in which case, watch out for Marvel’s newest superhero, the racist loudmouth ‘Captain ‘Murrica’.
(Pic via Wenn)
On the “Twalight Forever: The Complete Saga” DVD set, Nikki Reed and producer Wyck Godfrey talk about and introduce the Renesmee doll that was used during filming until it was replaced with a slightly less terrifying baby made of CGI, because the cast and crew were sick of its face eating their dreams every single night. A real baby was never used, because they wanted Renesmee to look “otherwordly” and I guess the prop department’s definition of “otherwordly” is what sprouts up when you plant the seed of Satan, Bette Davis eyes and a dozen tortured human souls in the red dirt on the Ninth Circle in HAIL. Chuckesmee looks like a meth-addicted, humanized Japanese Chin with FAS.
The crew nicknamed the doll “Chuckesmee” after Chucky from Child’s Play, but Chucky doesn’t have shit on Chuckesmee. If I had to choose between being locked in a room with Chucky and a bunch of knives or Chuckesmee, I’d go with Chucky. At least Chucky would make it quick. Chuckesmee would silently stare into the deepest part of my charred soul and feed off of my fear. It would get stronger with every chatter of my teeth. It would be like being stuck in a dark prison cell with Marie Osmond.
Chuckesmee is even more terrifying when it moves. IT MOVES.
It’s funny that they never say what happened to Chucksmee. Chuckesmee could be hiding at the bottom of your hamper during the day and every night it comes out to eat your exhales as you sleep. Or worse, Chuckesmee could be recording a pop single with Ark Music Factory’s Patrice Wilson right now. For the sake of all of us, I hope it’s the former.
And honestly, the producers made the right decision by dumping Chuckesmee. Nobody would ever believe that Kristen Stewart is Chuckesmee’s mom. Chuckesmee emotes way too many human emotions to be Kristen Stewart’s child.
The lemurs at the Vienna Zoo in Austria will never ever be the same again after this moment. The one on the right is screaming “Ayúdame!!!” with its eyes, because it knows that The Hoff could mistake it for a cheeseburger at any moment. The one on the left has already had a come to Jesus talk with itself and is calm, because it knows its fate. Nothing good happens when The Hoff’s throbbing forehead vein of destruction comes alive.
Why do you do this to me, Internet? WHY? And yes, somebody somewhere is fapping to this. There’s not enough WHYs in the world.
Because everybody is copying Miley, Madge wore a pair of Grillz while visiting her Hard Candy Fitness Club in Rome last night. Madge must be trolling all of us, because there’s no way she didn’t look in the mirror and not see that she looks like a bridge witch who sucks the gold fillings out of her unsuspecting victim’s mouths and smears that shit all over her teefs. But then again, a thick coat of delusion covers her eyeballs, so she probably thinks she looks hot. Those Grillz make her look like Gollum’s really rich and way more terrifying memaw. This is like Teeth of Meth: The 1% Edition. This is like an ad for Fixodent GOLD.
And Baby Brahim probably told Madge to buy those Grillz, because nothing gets him hard like gold on his peen and it’s another thing for him to snatch off the bedside table whens she falls asleep.
If you came home and the entire place was empty and you knew that nobody had been there and you found a children’s book about a doll on your bedside table and you didn’t put it there, you’d immediately start punching yourself in the face or pissing in your panties, because you’d assume that you were in a horrifying nightmare and need to wake the fuck up. That real-life night terror happened to Famke Janssen on Saturday night.
TMZ says that Famke came home on Saturday and on a shelf next to her bed, she found a book called The Lonely Doll by Dare Wright. The book doesn’t belong to Famke and she said nobody else has keys to her penthouse. The New York Post says that Famke called the cops and detectives searched her apartment. It didn’t look like anybody broke in and nothing was missing. They’re currently looking at footage from the security camera in the lobby of her apartment building.
The Lonely Doll is about some creepy ass, straw-haired, side-eye throwing doll named Edith who is really lonely (duh) until two bears, Mr. Bear and Little Bear, randomly show up in her life. Mr. Bear goes out one day and when he comes back, he finds that Edith and Little Bear played dress up, smeared makeup all over themselves and wrote “Mr. Bear is just a silly old thing” in lipstick on the mirror. Mr. Bear gets mad and spanks Edith and Little Bear. Edith gets the sads and worries that Mr. Bear and Little Bear are going to leave her and she’ll be all alone again. Mr. Bear tells Edith that he’ll never ever ever EVER leave her. Fuck that story. That is the scariest story I’ve ever heard.
If I was Famke, I wouldn’t have only screamed for the police. I would’ve called the movers to move all my shit out of there. I would’ve called a Holiday Inn in a different state to ask if they had a room with a quadruple lock available. I would’ve called that hot lady on Small Town Security and told her to send her entire staff to guard my ass. And then I would’ve called Liam Neeson to tell him that I just lived the beginning of the next Taken movie.
There’s a special place in Hell’s special place for crazy bitches who scare people with doll shit.
I don’t know where to start, so I don’t even know if I should….
The porn iguana goddess Courtney Stodden and her human hemorrhoid-looking husband Doug Hutchison made dozens of people dry heave through their eyes last night when they hugged and kissed on each other at Plastic Martyr’s birthday party in Hollywood. Why is Courtney wearing a lipstick in shade: corpse hooker? Why does Doug look like a Garbage Pail Kid version of Shaved Head Britney? Why do her tits look like sea urchins without their spikes caught in a net? Why is this the most terrifyingly elegance thing I’ve ever seen? Why to all of it? These pictures make me want to run to the nearest church and I don’t know whether I want to thank God for giving us an elegant creature like Courtney Stodden or erase these images from my brain by dipping my head in the holy water bowl?
And if you want to add another layer of ICK NAST to your Sunday, click to the 2:40 mark in the video below (via ONTD) to see Courtney kiss her mom on the lips for the paps:
But I will say that her cross necklace really adds a delicate and classy touch to her ensemble.
One Step Closer To The Apocalypse: Chad Kroeger And Avril Lavigne Got Married (UPDATE: No, They Didn’t…Yet)
UPDATE: The unholy union of suck isn’t legal…yet. UsWeekly says that Avril and Chad’s “wedding party” was last night. Their actual wedding is tomorrow July 1st. What a magical Canada Day miracle!
Lucifer showed that he is real and has a real fucked up sense of humor today when the official unholy union of suck that is Chad Kroeger and Avril Lavigne became husband and wife in the South of France today. Yeah, this is why the sky is filled with black clouds, the ground is covered with dead birds and I’m burning my toes off every time I step outside. I’m burning my toes off because it’s at least 6,000 degrees in L.A. and that’s because the flames of the underworld are burning high while Lucifer’s minions celebrate this dark-sidedness.
When Chad and Avril got engaged last year, I figured it was just some viral marketing stunt produced by the Mayans and it was their way of reminding us that the world really is ending on December 21, 2012. When the world didn’t end, I figured Chad and Avril would quietly break up and our international nightmare would be over. But nope, UsWeekly says that Chad and Avril really did get married in an “intimate” (translation: nobody wanted to come) wedding in Cannes. Avril wore a gown by Johanna Johnson and her gay best friend was her maid of honor. Now I know that’s a lie. Avril obviously wore a custom-made fishnet and black latex gown by Hot Topic and her maid of honor was Emily the Strange. Chad wore a tuxedo by Affliction and a jar of AXE hair putty was his best man.
This is the first marriage for 38-year-old Chad and the second for Avril’s 28-year-old ass.
Well, the good news is that since it’s a long weekend in Canada, Canadians have an extra day to celebrate the marriage of their royal couple. And by celebrate, I mean laugh uncontrollably to keep from crying. All hail the Canadian Prince William and Duchess Kate!
2. Let’s just get it out of the way and declare The Hammaconda our new overlord already. It can get up, open doors and go to the bathroom by itself, so it’s only a matter of time before we’re all its slaves. I can’t wait.