Yesterday in Greenwich, CT, a trick who is only semi-famous because of her sister married a trick who is only semi-famous because of his mom. 29-year-old Ashlee Simpson made 26-year-old Evan Ross her second husband at his mom’s estate. I figured that Diana Ross would pull a stage 10 Marky Mark and not show up to the wedding, because she had to meet with her lawyers to fast-track papers legally emancipating herself from Evan Ross for dragging her into that crazy family. But Diana Ross was there and she planned the whole wedding and performed. Miss Ross has gone insane.
UsWeekly says that Asshole wore a pearl-embellished, long-sleeved wedding gown and $750,000 worth of Neil Lane jooree including a tiara. Nobody really cared what Ashlee was wearing, because they were too busy gasping at the pretty-faced beauty of Evan Ross and the bow tie-shaped pube bush on his chin. Jessica Simpson was Ashlee’s matron of honor and her kids, Maxwell and Ace, were the flower girl and ring bearer. After the ceremony, Ashlee cut the cake with her chin and Diana Ross performed. Diana Ross performing at her son’s wedding reception makes sense, because: a) she’s Diana Ross and performing is her OXYGEN and; b) the more time she spent at the mic meant the less chances Ashlee had to get up on stage to “sing” to her groom.
UsWeekly has zero details about the only Simpson we care about: PAPA JOE! Bronx Mowgli walked Ashlee down the aisle, not Papa Joe. Ashlee is such a transparent bitch. I see what she did there. Ashlee knew that if Papa Joe walked her down the aisle, his glamorous ensemble (an ivory leather suit, a white fishnet tank, silver alligator sandals and a rhinestone headband) would take all the attention away from her who cares ass and Evan would want to marry Papa Joe instead and then the Ross family fortune would never be hers! It’s the only smart decision Ashlee has ever made.
And here’s pictures of Diana Ross looking like an exploding Muppet tampon while performing last year. I’m choosing to believe that this is what she wore to the ceremony.
After losing a bunch of weight by handcuffing herself to a treadmill set to ‘Usain Bolt’ and drinking nothing but water-flavored water blended with water (sorry…Weight Watchers. She lost it with Weight Watchers) Jessica Simpson realized that somewhere along the line her ass said “Bye, bitch!” and took off. And I don’t blame it! If I were being denied buttered Pop Tarts, I’d quit too.
Now Jessica wants it back, but she can’t have it back! Her old butt has gained a bunch of self-esteem by listening to nothing but Mary J. Blige and it’s not about to go crawling back to the cruel oppressor who forced it do power squats until it was so tight Papa Joe could bounce quarters off it. NO MORE DRAMA! If Jessica wants a new booty, she’s going to have to buy one. And according to the National Enquirer (via Radar) she’s already started skimming off the top of Eric Johnson’s allowance, because an insider claims Jessica is obsessed with Kim Kardashian’s exquisite silicone-stuffed ass and she’s ready to do anything to get it.
Jessica Simpson posted what is supposed to be a picture of herself on her honeymoon (I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a black and white picture of a drunk Willam Belli, but whatever) to Instagram this morning, and whether it was intentional or not, something was taking the attention away from Jessica’s sucked-in-to-hell-and-back body. Jessica Simpson captioned the photo “Jessica Johnson”, which means she’s either decided to take the last name of her husband Eric Johnson, or this is Jessica Simpson’s idea of a bad bitch Sasha Fierce-style alter-ego.
Everyone knows that, regardless of gender, a good gold digger takes the name of their million-dollar piece, so if anyone is going to change their name, it will be Eric Johnson (I’m guessing he’ll go traditional with Mr. Jessica Simpson). Which means that obviously Jessica Johnson is the name Jessica Simpson uses when she wants to pretend that she’s a sexy-yet-drowsy 4th-tier amateur MILF porn star who may or may not also work at a Bath & Body Works outlet.
In the event she does actually change her name to Jessica Johnson, I hope she also changes the name of her fashion empire as well. Jessica Johnson would be to basic bitches what Ralph Lauren is to snobby rich white ladies. Imagine if every Jessica Johnson handbag came with a coupon for a pumpkin spice latte and a complimentary pair of Uggs? She’d go from being a basic bitch millionaire to a basic bitch billionaire.
Even though their guests are still pooping out pieces of fondant from the wedding cake, the first pictures of shoe tycoon Jessica Simpson’s wedding to gold digger extraordinaire Eric Johnson have been released by People. Yes, they got married on Saturday and today is Wednesday. Her brain may be slower than a sloth on a broken treadmill, but when it comes to getting money, bitch is like Usain Bolt.
Since Jessica Simpson held back on the Texas Gum-Chewing Pageant Queen eleganza of her first marriage, and the fact that she chose to get married on Independence Day weekend, I was hoping she would have gone all out the second time around and sashayed down the aisle in a replica of the red, white, and blue taffeta gown Barbie wore when she ran for president in 1992. Instead, she picked a dress the same color as every bathroom on Property Brothers, rubbed it all over a bunch of pay phones and toilet seats, then stuck it in a damp corner of the basement under a pile of Jessica Simpson for Zales butterfly pendants, and waited for it to start growing silver bacteria. Looking at her dress makes me wanna grab the Lysol and a Silkwood shower.
Anyone who’s ever looked at a Jessica Simpson handbag and marvelled at the hand-painted top stitching knows that Jessica is a stickler for the details, so it’s no surprise she carried the bacterial outbreak theme through to her wedding portrait and asked the photographer to make it look like she’s been isolated in quarantine:
Jessica also told People: “It’s so surreal. This has been something we’ve wanted ever since we met” with Eric adding: “Hell yeah, can you blame me?? I’m rich, bitch!”
For a second there, the gold diggers of the world were starting to get nervous and didn’t think that Eric Johnson would fulfill his wallet-humping destiny and get another win for the gold diggers. But after a three and a half year engagement and 2 kids, Eric finally scored another one for the #getmoneybitch league when he became Jessica Simpson’s second husband at the place where every goddamn basic ass celebrity gets married: San Ysidro Ranch in Montecito, CA. Raise your shovels and rejoice!
People says that the professional tight end turned professional stay-at-home dad married the professional dieter and greatest shoe mogul of our time in front of 250 guests including Jessica Alba, Diana Ross’ son, Asshole Simpson, CaCee Cobb and Donald Faison. They all watched as Eric promised to love, honor, obey and cherish Jessica until death or a zero balance savings account does them part. Or until Eric loses it at the Thanksgiving dinner table and stabs Papa Joe in the hand with a steak knife after another game of grab-ass. People says that Chestica wore Carolina Herrera (here’s a sketch of her dress) and the instrumental version of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” played, which is a weird song to play during a wedding ceremony, but nobody’s accused her ass of making sense. After they got married, Jessica’s rep released this canned statement:
“We are overwhelmed with complete happiness and love having made our eternal commitment. To say ‘I do’ in front of family, friends and, most importantly, our children has been the happiest moment of our lives.”
Congratulations to Chestica! Congratulations to the gold diggers! And condolences to the cake, because after filling her mouth with air, laxatives and dehydrated lemon peels so she’d look as skinny as possible in the pictures she’s going to sell to People, she probably destroyed that thing.
And here’s the only Simpson that any of us care about keeping it sexy while hanging with his “model client” at their hotel pool yesterday morning. Papa Joe bringing his twink toy to his ATM’s wedding is probably the most exciting thing that the Simpson family has ever done. To answer the question that popped in your head when you looked at Papa Joe’s client, I don’t know what the twink is modeling either. Maybe he’s modeling Papa Joe’s daddy dick? But then again, that’s “acting” more than “modeling.”
On Instagram yesterday, Chestica Simpson let it be known that skinny Jessica Simpson is back!
Chestica turned into a human water tower full of amniotic fluid and buttered Pop Tarts when she got knocked up with Maxwell and right after she birthed out that kid, she got knocked up again, because being knocked up and filling your mouth hole with buttered Pop Tarts is so much funner than walking on a treadmill and eating mist to fulfill your Weight Watchers contract. Well, after months and months of walking on a treadmills until her legs broke and only eating Weight Watchers enchiladas made of her own tears and purified air, Jessica is skinny again.
Jessica spent a sliver of her Memorial Day awkwardly posing with a golf club next to an elegant column while wearing deranged bee sunglasses and ugly shoes that should’ve never been born. Jessica is sucking in so hard that I think I can hear one of her ribs break, but I have to give her credit, because she’s sucking in and making duck lips at the same time. That’s a real talent.
And if I got an Outback Bloomin’ Onion every time one of my bitch ass friends took my picture and screamed, “Suck in, whore!“, at me and I was sucking in, I’d be as big as a 16 months pregnant Jessica.
The White House Corespondents Dinner (aka the event that Sarah Palin rage watches on TV every year like a lonely 11th grader sitting all alone in her car parked in the lot of the prom she wasn’t invited to) happened in DC last night and it’s usually a real trash heap of an event filled with gutter skanks like Kim Kardashian, Lindsay Lohan and Spencer Pratt. But they decided to switch things up this year and bring in some real stars and beauty! Sure, there were still some hos there whose one brain cell would spit out an error 405 if you asked them to spell “correspondents” (see: Jessica Simpson), but the presence of ROJO CALIENTE made up for that!
Rojo Caliente blessed the WHCD with her glorious gingerness last night, because she’s in politics now and it’s only a matter of time before she’s voted in as President and moves into the White House (sorry, Hillary). Our future First Lady Cynthia Nixon was Rojo’s date and judging by that dress, we know her focus will be recycling when she moves into the White House. Because you know that ratty couch from the 60s your hoarding memaw just couldn’t let go of and put on the back porch where it became a bed to the raccoons who troll around her yard? Well, Cynthia Nixon ripped the fabric off of that back porch couch and used it to make the dress she wore last night.
Believe it or not, last night’s events weren’t canceled so that everyone could watch Rojo eat and slowly sip champagne. The events and jokes went on. Obama told jokes between two ferns!
And the poster child for good plugs Joel McHale told jokes too!
But the real entertainment came from watching the beige polyester panties of all the old people bunch up into their ass cheeks as they got highly offended by Joel’s jokes.
And here’s a few pictures from last night’s nerd prom including my best dressed of the night Rose McGowan who delivered some boudoir chic by wrapping a black silk sheet around a teddy.
Pics: Getty, Splash
If this is the engagement party, I cannot wait to see what kind of Stevie Nicks meets an upscale fabric store meets a coke-snorting Muppet mess their wedding will be like. I should start making the bingo card right now: vaguely-Native American feather headdress, fringe, a dress that looks like it smells like patchouli, exchanging healing crystals instead of rings, Papa Joe Simpson filling up his dance card with the phone numbers of every 22-year-old bartender, server, and valet (that’s the free square in the middle).
On Wednesday night, former singer/actress and current hair extension enthusiast Ashlee Simpson and her fiancé Evan Ross (who should legally change his name to Spawnofdiana Ross, because that’s all that matters in this life) made the mistake of a lifetime by throwing themselves an engagement party on the same day as Diana Ross’s 70th birthday. Oooooooh…Ashlee Simpson, you in danger, girl. You had 365 days to pick from and you decided to throw your cheap Coachella-looking engagement party on the 70th day of the birth of The Queen Supreme? Sure, Diana Ross probably acted like it was no big deal, but believe this: she’s deep in her lair, plotting the most exquisitely evil of wedding-day sabotage, as a crow sits on her shoulder squawking: “I’ll show you, you jig-dancing bitch.”
At least Jessica Simpson has enough working brain cells to know that it’s Diana Ross’s birthday first, engagement party second; which is exactly why she came dressed up as a backup dancer:
Jessica Simpson is six months postpartum after popping out baby number two with fiancé Eric Johnson and in an interview with USA Today (via USWeekly), Jess shilled for her non-human BFF Weight Watchers. She said the weight came off much easier this time and that she’s already down to her pre-baby weight (which I might buy if her posture in the picture above didn’t scream, “Oh no, the Spanx are gonna blow!!!“) with a little help in the kitchen and regular exercise.
“I saw the results really quickly,” she tells the paper of her success on Weight Watchers’ “Simple Start” plan and “PointsPlus” plan. It helps, of course, that she has “somebody who comes in and helps out” with the food preparation. “I do want to make sure I stick with the right recipes, and obviously my schedule is a little jam-packed,” she explains.
One thing she has gotten very good at? Fitting exercise into her daily routine. “With both kids, I’m running up and down my stairs a million times,” she tells USA Today of son Ace, almost 6 months, and daughter Maxwell, 19 months. “Kids can keep your metabolism going.”
She’s also been working out with celeb trainer Harley Pasternak four days a week for 45 minutes. And she and Johnson take long walks together, too. “I try and walk about four miles a day consistently,” she says. “It makes me feel better…Working out and being active overall makes me a happier person to be around.“
I feel a little sorry for Jessica. Because she has a private chef, she’s missing out on all the low-rent frozen meal magic Weight Watchers Smart Ones have to offer! They are easy to make and completely filling as long as you eat at at least five of them. If you’re worried about it fitting into your points allowance, just calculate your PointsPlus in dog years and multiply that by your goal weight. Voilà! Diet math!
It’s very touching to see Eric takes some time out of his long days of enjoying Jess’s money to put on his walking harness and get some exercise with her. It’s also good news that Jess has discovered what stairs are for and doesn’t treat her kids the same way she did laundry back in her Newlyweds days. Then again, if Jessica stayed upstairs and just chucked the kids over the railing in a tight spiral down to Eric, maybe he could use the training to get his ass a job playing football in an arena league somewhere instead of being a kept man.
I stared at this picture for a long ass time and I’m still not sure what the hell is going on here. At first, I thought it was Courtney Stodden after her hot air balloon titties gave up the limelight and migrated to her back , then I realized that even though the hair is a little ratty looking, it wasn’t harvested from a hobo living in Fraggle Rock, so it can’t be her.
It turns out when Jessica Simpson isn’t traipsing through a damn field to sing the praises of Weight Watchers, she’s lounging poolside is some Big-Tittied Frog Rorschach Test, which I obviously failed. I don’t need a therapist to tell me that seeing back boobs before giving up and wishing the guy in the photo would turn just a little so I can gauge the package situation means I have issues.
USWeekly says the photo shows her getting ready to shoot ads for the Jessica Simpson Collection, which will probably be fucked so hard by Photoshop they’ll get pregnant and demand child support from Adobe. They should hurry, it’s only a matter of time before Jessica trips and lands on her man’s dick again and births out another kid she can sort of name after a beloved zoo animal. I vote for Panda Cam Johnson.
Here’s Jessica in Studio City yesterday. She looks pretty good, and that’s my say something nice for the day.