Yesterday, my thoughts and prayers were with the president of the West Coast chapter of the Brangeloonies, Chelsea Hander, because I know that Brangelina is her favorite couple in the history of love. Chelsea has said time and time again that Angelina Jolie has a wonderful soul, a kind spirit, is a girl’s girl and she wishes they were best friends. So I just knew that all day yesterday, Chelsea was probably crying out hot vodka tears while she lay in the fetal position on her bathroom floor and punched at the sky as she screamed, “Why, God, why?!” (Side note: I’m jealous of Chelsea’s dog, because I wish I could get drunk for free by licking up her vodka tears.)
I thought that Chelsea would need to take a lengthy sad-bbatical to deal with the break-up of Brangelina, but she somehow pulled her emotions together and was able to shoot an episode of her Netflix show. As her dried and chapped tear ducts quivered (since she already cried out all the liquid in her body), Chelsea gave a heartfelt eulogy for Brangelina. And of course, I mean the opposite of all of that since Chelsea hates St. Angie more than she’d hate getting eaten out by a piranha with an overbite.
I’m glad that after all the unpredictability of yesterday, we can still count on the New York Post to come through with a very New York Post-y cover.
I figured that about 0.6 seconds after one of Angelina Jolie’s minions dropped a copy of those divorce papers off at Brad Pitt’s stoner hovel, there would be a crowd of reporters outside Jennifer Aniston’s house screaming for a statement. “Jen, just how loud did you laugh when you heard the news?” “Jen, will you be celebrating with a huge party or a case of wine at Chelsea Handler’s house?” That didn’t happen, but several sources spilled the details of Jen’s feelings to UsWeekly. And yeah, those Jen reaction memes on Twitter were pretty accurate.
The last ballot I cast was in the election that saw Hottié McStud become Prime Minister of Canada, so I don’t get to vote in this one. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on. I know one of the candidates is a dry Buffalo chicken tender in a suit. I know that the other one is Hillary Clinton. I also know that they’ve got to make a lot of money before the election, so they hold fundraisers. Yesterday, a fancy money-making lunch was held in honor of Hillary at the Los Angeles home of Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel.
Jennifer Aniston received a lifetime achievement award in Italy this weekend, and not for Dealing with a Lifetime of Pregnancy Rumors from the Italian branch of the International Society of Supermarket Tabloids. It was just a plain old lifetime achievement award from Europe’s largest children’s film festival, the Giffoni Film Festival.
Because it would have been rude of Jennifer to show up, grab her lifetime achievement award and a couple sfogliatelle from the catering table, and hop back on her private jet, she answered some audience questions. If my teen self got to ask Lifetime Achievement Award Recipient Jennifer Aniston a question, it would probably be for an itemized list of every designer Rachel Green wore during all 263 episodes of Friends. The children and teens of Europe are much more mentally deeper than I was at their age, because The Hollywood Reporter says they asked serious questions about gender equality and bullying.
You could probably wallpaper the Great Wall of China two times over with a different tabloid cover claiming that forever lonely moth ball of a sadling Jennifer Aniston has finally gotten knocked up with the fetus she’s been dreaming of her entire life. We’ve been hearing about what’s going on in Jennifer Aniston’s womb for centuries, and if she never has kids, we’ll probably see the words “Jennifer Aniston Knocked Up With Miracle Quads At 100!” on the cover of Closer Weekly in 53 years. Jennifer has said before that the tabloids fart up nothing but lies, and she’s made fun of the pregnancy rumors in ad for SmartWater. But Jennifer is done laughing about all the 5 billion rumors about her uterus, and she has shit all over the tabloids in an essay for the Huffington Post. Oh how I wish I could hear the “Bitch, really?” that a tabloid editor will spit out the next time Jennifer’s PR team calls up asking for a favor….
Open Post: Hosted By Justin Theroux Wearing Everything Found In A Stereotypical Douche Hipster Starter Kit
The official start of slow summer gossip season started today when for the 9,123,980th time, a tabloid declared that a “miracle baby” has taken out a 9-month lease on Jennifer Aniston’s womb. InTouch Weekly screamed that Aniston is knocked up with Justin Theroux’s baby and they posted pictures of her in a bikini. Her belly looks like my gut when I suck in. But anyway, the Baby News Denial Department of Aniston’s PR Team quickly dropped a non-pregnant fart on that news.
But even though she denied the rumors, Aniston still hit the pap stroll in NYC today with a 16-foot long scarf and a wrinkled trench covering THAT area. She also looks kind of tired, but then again, you’d be tired too if you spent 3 hours of your morning using your body strength to pull your husband’s painted-on jeggings onto his body. If I was Aniston, I’d be using that giant scarf to cover my face, because I wouldn’t want to be seen with a grown dude who’s dressed like a cross between a 16-year-old circa 1992 who got suspended from high school for trying to start an anarchy club and a rejected member of the Village People who started his own music group in Brooklyn called the Borough People.