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!
The matriarch of the fucked-up Simpson family turned 56 a couple of days ago, so her family (sans her ex Papa Joe) took her to Mexico where it looks like she did whatever I do when I’m in Mexico: suck down that tequila like a 9 inch dick.
Tina Simpson’s drunk ass has been posting pictures from the trip on Instagram including this one of her and her son-in-law Eric Somethingoranother getting into some wholesome fun. HuffPo points out that several of Mama Tina’s followers shook their heads at this picture and called it highly inappropriate. Um, do Mama Tina’s followers even know this family? A picture of Jessica Simpson’s husband using her mom’s pussy as a pillow while he presents his hole to the camera is considered G-rated in that family. If Papa “Grab-Ass” Joe was on that trip, that picture would look a whole lot different. We wouldn’t even know that Tina was in it, because Papa Joe would be blocking her while sitting on Eric’s thumb.
Tina also posted this picture of her with her other son-in-law Evan Ross:
Now that picture really offends me on every level. No, not because of their pose. But because Evan Ross still has that busted Batman logo goatee on his face.
Drinking on the job? Millionaire fashion MOGULS are just like us!
I watch a lot of HSN and QVC, because they’re always selling pure, potent comedy for just 4 easy payments of zero dollars. It’s free laughs! I figure that some of them involved are either on pills, the sweet nectar, the good shit, the bad shit or all of the above, because some of the stuff that comes out of their mouths is unleaded WTF fuel and you’d have to be on something to sell that shit. Well, everyone’s favorite queef-brained fashion mogul was on HSN last night where she added more gold bars to her billion-dollar empire by selling crap from her fashion line. I hate myself for not knowing that she was on, because people who watched say that she was a mess from beginning to end. So far, there seems to be only one 30-second clip making the rounds and I’m not really getting “plastered” from this, but I am getting the Xanax rambles mixed with a few cups of red wine. Doctors call that a stage 2 Mariah Carey.
That doesn’t even come close to the Valium-induced train wreck of slurring messiness that Paula Abdul once served up on QVC. But if Jessica named those jeans herself, then all of the interventionists from Intervention need to drag her into rehab now. Because naming a pair of jeans “Kiss Me” jeans is a loud cry for help!
And here’s Messica and whatshisname at the airport a few days ago.