On today’s episode of This Has Happened Before And It Will Happen Again, a fermented naranja in a blond weave named Jessica Simpson was her usual kind of drunk last night and had to be helped to her car by her husband/human walking stick Something McWhatsHisFace. Now, ever since I had eyeball surgery five weeks ago, I’ve been off the booze, which is why my sober liver is singing “I’ve Never Had This Feeling Before” and also why BevMo! calls me daily to tell me how much they miss me. Since I’m a lightweight now, I got a quick, but fulfilling buzz, just from inhaling the vodka, gin, wine, whiskey, hand sanitizer, alcohol wipes breath wafting out of Jessica’s boozing hole. So thanks for that, Messica! A free buzz is always a good buzz.
And Jessica may consider becoming a polygamist so that she can marry another human walking stick, because it looks like she needs extra help.
You know you’re a next level kind of drunk when you’re the only one playing limbo with a limbo pole only you can see.
Yesterday. Jessica Simpson stepped out in NYC looking like a multi-tiered scoop of “Hoooooo Lawd!” Her shades most certainly were stolen from a 7-year-old, and who cares?! They look far better on the face behind the biggest line at Dillard’s…or Macy’s…or Big Lots…or…wherever the fuck that shit is sold. And what about that clutch?! Poor Lauren Hutton’s mouth got used for her purse! That blouse most certainly screams “oops! I’m just the substitute teacher and didn’t get the dress code memo, y’all!” Meanwhile, the leather coochie skirt is one wrong move on the mainstage away from ripping and airing out her Big Apples. Just kidding, that leather skirt says, “I’m leather, I’m red, and it’s fucking July in New York. Why the fuckity fuck did you fish me out of the closet?”
People shocked me silly by saying this outfit did not, in fact, come from a Baptist Vacation Bible School clothing swap. Instead, those shades cost $2,610 and were by, who else, Dolce & Gabbana. The only thing those two enjoy more than heaping doses of self-loathing is up-charging a hussy from a red state. The blouse is by Chloé and cost nearly $2,000. Chloé must be French for “Let’s see how far we can swindle this bitch.”
A Jessica Simpson interview is usually awkward wrapped in messy and doused with cringe-fuel, but shit really got awkward on yesterday’s episode of Ellen. Jessica went on Ellen to promote her billion dollar fashion (and whatever she puts her name on) empire, but it seemed more like a PSA for what happens to your brain when mix you wine, pills, nervousness and trying to be funny.
And for once, nobody is looking at Chestica Simpson’s chichis, because our eyeballs are too busy taking in Papa Joe’s Bieber circa 2009 mop and his Chess King glamour.
Youth minister turned stage dad turned alleged sugar daddy turned twink photographer Papa Joe is now recovering after being treated for cancer. Papa Joe’s rep confirmed to People that cancer fucked with his prostate and he was diagnosed two months ago. InTouch Weekly’s sources that say it’s pretty serious. They claim Papa Joe has stage 4 cancer and it’s spread to his lymph nodes. But People’s source says that Papa Joe is feeling good and is already back to work as a photographer.
Papa Joe apparently underwent prostate surgery and it went well. The internet tells me that surgery for prostate cancer involves removing the entire prostate gland. No more prostate milking fun for Papa Joe, but that’s a teeny tiny price to pay. People’s source said this about his recovery:
“He’s feeling great now and is optimistic. He’s felt so much love and support from his family and friends.”
And here’s to Papa Joe continuing recovery, because we need him to keep spreading the high fashion glamour one vintage International Male outfit at a time.
Not to be outdone by the busted 70s ridiculousness that Amal Clooney wore the other day, Jessica Simpson started her Halloween celebrations early by stomping the streets of NYC yesterday while looking like a rejected extra from Madonna’s Deeper and Deeper video. If Charo got sick of being the perfect fashion icon that she is and wanted to show the people that she too fucks up sometimes, she’d wear this disaster. If Married to the Mob took place in the 70s and Lady Miss Kier did the costumes, this is something that Michelle Pfeiffer’s character would wear. Normally, I’d be all about that look, but on Jessica, it’s not working for me. As philosopher Patricia from Joe Versus the Volcano says, “That outfit’s wearing you, Felix.”
And that jacket looks like a pile of dead punk guinea pigs. If that fur jacket is real, Jessica better be careful. Because PETA may bring those dead creatures back to life with black magic and they’ll try to eat the fattened-up worms on her mouth.
On a positive note, New York’s Department of Sanitation thanks her for sweeping the streets for them.
Please take Jessica Simpson’s huge tits as a sorry (I couldn’t find any new pics of the Hammaconda) for my lack of posts for the second day in a row. Yesterday, I was dealing with the tax man and a family thing. Today, another family situation has kept me from fully spreading the dumb celebrity fuckery with you. Tomorrow will be a lighter flow day for me as well. I thank my God Bea Arthur for Allison! And yes, I said, “family situation.” I sound like an unwed teen mother from the 70s who has to get an abortion without her strict Catholic mother finding out. Things will hopefully (I’m crossing my ass lips) be back to normal on Monday.
And now I leave you with these pictures of Jessica Simpson looking like the most popular truck bed dancer at a NASCAR tailgate party while vacationing in Cabo. Even though Papa Joe is pretty much out of the closet (the closet cannot contain this much gay glamour), I still picture him dribbling out a river of preacher saliva whenever I see Jessica’s spectacular chichis. You can wear as many pucker-inducing mid-life-gay-crisis ensembles as you want, Papa Joe, but I’ll still never forgive you for that!