Ah, babies. The perfect talking point. There will be no awkward or uncomfortable silences at Chrissy Teigen and John Legend’s holiday dinner tomorrow. The second someone begins a potentially bad conversation (“Here’s what the government doesn’t want you to know about chemtrails…“), Chrissy can just whip out a picture of her ultrasound. And if that fails, I guess they could just send the dog out in a turkey costume.
But I doubt it will get that bleak, because this baby news is still new enough to keep everyone interested.
Halsey is one of the music industry’s most frequent red carpet messes, so it’s not a surprise that she would show up to the Billboard Music Awards last night in an outfit that says: “Book my stylist the next appointment at the nearest Pearle Vision.”
That bra is all kinds of tragic. It’s both too big and too small, like some kind of physics-defying underwire nightmare. If that bra could talk, it would beg Halsey to leave it at home and take a set of nipple pasties instead. On the upside, it is nice to see that someone finally purchased the most discounted bra from the clearance section of Ross. But don’t cry for Halsey’s bra. I see a bright future for it. I bet an agent has already signed it to appear as the uncomfortable before bra in an Ahh Bra infomercial.
Earlier this month, bewigged reality television goodtime gal Kim Zolciak lowered the “cool mom” archetype to new depths by publicly offering her daughter’s oral favors so her son Kash could meet John Legend. Yes, that’s right. So THE SON could meet John Legend. It was 20-year-old Brielle Biermann who would have been strapping on the knee pads in exchange for goods and services for SOMEONE ELSE. Kim’s not exactly the most feminist pimp around, huh? John’s wife Chrissy Teigen saved Brielle from her human-trafficking mother by saying that there was no need for beej. The Zolciak-Biermann clan made it backstage to meet John without anyone having to spit or swallow. Heartwarming. Continue reading
Kim Zolciak, the mutated polyester blond wig from Real Housewives of Atlanta and Tardy For The Party, is currently getting a lot of her favorite thing (after silicone shots to the lips, of course): attention! The garage sale Barbie styling head who was brought to life by Lucifer to terrorize us all tweeted at Chrissy Teigen last night about getting tickets to a John Legend show for her 4-year-old son Kash. Kim must be a Pimp Mama Kris-in-training because she “jokingly” tried to pimp out her 20-year-old clone daughter, Brielle Biermann, for those tickets.
The live-action Beauty and the Beast (aka the upcoming movie that we at Dlisted have written about approximately 3,499 times) is finally coming out next week, and to further promote that mess (because it really needs more promoting), Disney has released the video for Ariana Grande Latte and John Legend’s karaoke version of the title song. You know, instead of clutching their bibles over something innocent and normal like a gay character, the crazy Christian conservatives should really be losing it over the strange dark-sided satanic ritual dance that happens in this video. If my feet didn’t catch on fire as soon as I stepped into a church, I’d run into one to dunk my head in holy water after seeing this scary video.
The video stars off with the anti-donut demon summoning fiery evilness out of a mirror while wearing what looks like a giant bloody shower puff. Ariana then walks into a ballroom and a chorus of over-used, raggedy maxi-pads dance around her and cover her. It’s supposed to look like a big rose, but instead, it looks like the humongous blood clot that falls out of your ear when you listen to a version of Beauty and the Beast that is not sung by Angela Lansbury, Celine Dion or Peabo Bryson.
Ariana joins John at the piano and as she mumble yodels, a human girl dances with the buffalo she’s trying to fuck. This shit is like a horror movie done by a film major who really wants to be the next Guillermo del Toro.
And the scariest part of that video is that Ariana isn’t wearing her hair up in her usual Charo-wannabe ponytail. I always thought that millions of evil spirits lived in Ariana’s ponytail, and now she’s set them free. We’re doomed.
We’re finally ending our never-ending Oscar coverage today and the best way to end it is with some man pieces who were probably suffocating in their nut-hugging pants and wanted to take it all off halfway through the show. They should’ve. It would’ve made that mess a hundred million times better and awakened all my senses.
My best dressed chick of the Oscars is definitely Charlize Theron, because with that ponytail, casual diamond earrings and daytime gold la-may gown, she was done up like Alexis Carrington making a quick trip to the supermarket. It was very daytime casual Dynasty. And my best dressed dude is definitely Ryan Gosling, who looks like he reeks of Jovan Musk oil and is about to pick you up in his dad’s gold two-tone Lincoln Continental Mark V to take you to the senior prom where he’s going to feel you up while slow dancing to The Closer I Get To You. And he’s definitely the one who spiked the punch.
Ryan wore Gucci (duh) and I couldn’t tell if those were actual ruffles or trompe l’oeil ruffles (Side note: I don’t do drag, but if I ever did, I’ve got dibs on the name Tramp Louie Ruffles.) And then there’s the smooth rat Pharrell, who dressed like a maître d at an underground restaurant that only serves virgin blood and is owned by Kunty Karl. There’s a reason why Pharrell looks like that. He’s wearing Chanel.
And here’s a million more pictures of the dudes from the Oscars. Come for Mahershala Ali and come again for hot piece of wood Jamie Dornan.