Last night’s Bruno Mars Appreciation Ceremony, er, the Grammy Awards was chock full o’ boring ballads, but one part kind of brought out the funnies and it was a skit involving musicians reading Fire And Fury (the book by Michael Wolff about all the allegedly crazy and stupid shit going down in Trump’s house). Everyone from Cher to Cardi B took turns reading about Trump’s love for McDonald’s and maniacal ways, but the “surprise” reader at the end was Hillary Clinton. Trump’s supporters naturally lost their minds seeing their favorite punching bag take time away from Cardi B’s gift of sound effects. Continue reading
When you’re a question mark’s favorite pop singer and people regularly mistake you for the wall, you have to pull some shit to make people pay attention to you. Like dress yourself up as a Miss Kitty from the future who just got jumped by a gang of silkie chickens.
Clive Davis threw his annual pre-Grammy party in NYC last night, and many of the guests decided to save their better dresses for tonight’s Grammys (although, they should really just wear pajamas with an attached pillow and duvet cover, because that shit is going to be three and a half fucking hours long). Because most of them wore boring dresses bought off the rack at Macy’s (Taryn Manning’s impact!), but not Rita Ora.
Rita Ora threw feathers, fringe, bows, rhinestone and whatever else that was on sale at Michael’s onto her body. Rita looks like she just came from auditioning for the Thandie Newton role in a no-budget unauthorized Public Access reboot of Westworld that takes place way off in the future and will eventually get shut down after HBO sues. Rita is also dressed like a look-for-less Kartrashian, which is saying a lot since the Kartrashians dress like look-for-less Kartrashians.
And here’s a million more pictures from Clive Davis’ party, including Kathie Lee Gifford (who I hope wins, via write-in vote, the Best Song Grammy tonight for He Saw Jesus) and Martha Stewart, whose dogs are probably nervous that she’s going to skin and wear their asses next.
Stars, they’re just like us! They too can arrive at the airport expecting a simple flight, only to find themselves questioning the existence of Satan while languishing for hours in a soul-rattling airline hell. That’s what recently happened to Chrissy Teigen and John Legend, except they got to suffer in First Class.
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