The Crystal Enchantress Of The Ice And His Husband Are Back Together Again After Signing A Ridiculous Post-Nup (UPDATE)
After weeks of scratching, biting and spitting at each other in the media and using their dog as a fluffy, adorable shank to stab each other in the throat with, Johnny Weir and his husband of 3 years Victor Voronov have stopped throwing Faberge eggs at each other and are back together again. To quote The Crystal Enchantress’ hair stylist when he told them he wanted green My Little Pony tails for bangs: “This is not going to be pretty.”
The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice made the sparkles on rhinestones dim and snow leopards cry out snowflakes when he announced last month that he and Victor broke up. During the days after their divorce announcement, they publicly delivered the gayest episode of Dynasty ever which is saying a lot since every episode of Dynasty is the gayest episode of Dynasty ever. They screamed, they cried and they brought the gay drama in thick, heavy doses. But they’re done with that for now and they’re back to rubbing nipples on top of Johnny’s grey mink comforter. Over the weekend, Johnny and Victor decided to give their marriage another try, which is a really good idea considering that Johnny once bit Victor and accused Victor of hitting him repeatedly. Johnny and Victor’s marriage was messy, their break up was messy and so of course their reconcilation is going to be messy. TMZ got a hold of (read: Victor gave it to them) a list of rules that they each had to sign. Victor made Johnny promise that he’d apologize for trashing his ass in the media and wants Johnny’s mom to keep her nose out of their marriage. Johnny made Victor sign his own list of rules and most of it has to do with peen passing. Scientology has less rules than Johnny and Victor’s relationship.
- No wet humping on others
- No sucking other dicks
- No kissing or making out or putting tongue on others
- No sexting others
- No jacking off with others
- No flirting hard with others
- No Grindr and no flirting on social media
- No talking with an ex unless the other one approves it first
They also promised to get tested for STDs every 6 months and the results have to be read when both of them are in the room.
If a jaded and bitter friend who doesn’t believe in long-lasting love asks you to show them a relationship that is built on trust and honesty, just show them this post, because Johnny and Victor are the epitome of trust. The hell kind of contract is that?! If you have to make your husband sign a contract stating that he’s not going to suck other dicks, there’s a good chance that when he sucks on another dick he’s not going to give a fuck about that contract while he’s doing it. Dreadful is the image of Johnny Weir dirtying up his Chanel leather pants when he gets on his knees to sniff Victor’s dick for cheating juices. How many Birkins need to be brutally murdered before Johnny realizes this shit is probably not a good idea? How many Birkins, Johnny? How many Birkins?
UPDATE: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand these messes are broken up again. The Birkins are saved and they can suck the dicks of others once again.
You really don’t know the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice and totally thought wrong if you figured his divorce from his first husband Victor Voronov would end with them wishing each other well and shaking hands like mature, sane adults. Nope, it’s going to end with glitter-infused tears, screams, more bite marks and possibly the brutal death of another Birkin bag. The divorce battle royale is going to messier than that biker angel goddess ensemble that Johnny’s wearing.
On the day that every swan’s heart broke, Victor tweeted that he barely found out that Johnny filed for divorce in February and that he was totally blind-sided by it. Victor must’ve shaken off the shock real quick, because he hired a “legal crisis manager.” Bitch thinks he’s on Scandal! Calling Olivia Pope! Johnny has turned up the messiness all the way by turning his divorce into a non-stop press party for himself. All week long, Access Hollywood has been airing an EXCLUSIVO tell-all interview that Johnny gave to the factory-defected, empty-headed Alfred E. Neuman doll named Billy Bush. Johnny dramatically told Billy that he’s had the sads in his little sequins-covered dove heart for a while about his marriage problems. Johnny says that they fought a lot about money, because Victor quit his law career to travel with him and he was supporting the both of them. Victor supposedly was controlling and pushed most of Johnny’s friends and even his own mother away. Victor’s legal crisis manager (I still CAN’T with that shit) tells Access Hollywood that he quit his law career, because Johnny wanted him to be a stay-at-home husband and travel with him.
“The night in question, my husband was very drunk and was yelling at me about my relationship with my mother and my mother was assisting me in cleaning up some financial messiness that had happened and he was uncomfortable with that and had voiced it very clearly. So, we had a fight and then I went to sleep because I had to work the next day and he came in – very not himself – and asked me to lay with him in the biblical sense, and when I refused, the altercation between us started. I was defending myself and it’s unfortunate that there was a mark left on his body because as soon the police came to our home the first thing he did was show this mark, so I knew then he didn’t really care that much and all he is out to do is hurt me.”
I watched this part of the interview on Access Hollywood, and I am so mad they didn’t shoot it in black and white. Johnny should’ve worn a fox stole and a black fishnet veil over his face, and took graceful drags from a long cigarette as he detailed the dramatic events of that night. It sucks that science and/or witchcraft hasn’t found a way to really bring back the dead, because I’d love to see Joan Crawford turn that monologue out. I’d also love it if they played that Access Hollywood interview during Sunday mass at every Evangelical church. I want to see heads slowly pop off of necks as Johnny says, “…lay with him in the biblical sense.”
Johnny also said that Victor hit him repeatedly in front of friends before and he never went to the police.
Victor was also offered money for a tell-all interview of his own and he supposedly told Johnny’s lawyer that he will turn it down if his estranged husband pays his lawyers fee and gives him spousal support. The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice shooed away his offer and asked the judge to make Victor pay his own lawyer fees.
As for that Birkin bag massacre, TMZ says that on September 29, 2013, Johnny wrote Victor an email apologizing for a fight they had but also slapped at his husband’s wrist for brutally murdering one of his Hermès purses (yes, in this situation, Hermès is pronounced “HER MESS.”)
Johnny writes, “If you decide to wreck things, please wreck cheaper things than Birkins.” He goes on …”The fuck you on the Birkin is kinda cool, though, you artist. I know you don’t care about how I’ll survive if you divorce me, but please leave my Birkin bags, Celine bags and Chanel bags alone.”
What’s really surprising is that Victor’s heart still beats in his chest and his lungs still work, because when you mess with Johnny Weir’s Birkin, you mess with his emotions. And when you mess with his emotions, you’ll get a Louboutin heel to the throat. Hell hath no fury like a bitchy brand whore scorned.
Let us all pull out our pink satin handkerchiefs and wipe the tears that trickle down our cheeks as Johnny Weir put on his rhinestone-encrusted divorcin’ catsuit and solemnly skates a goodbye ice waltz to the husband he bit during a messy fight last January. The swans are sorrowfully howling into the air today (or maybe that sound is my tone deaf neighbor once again loudly singing that annoying Frozen song) and every rhinestone has temporarily lost its sparkle, because the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice has filed for divorce from his husband Victor Voronov. It is a sad and tragic day when the love between a biting icicle and a Russian goes numb and dies like my b-hole whenever I see Johnny Weir in coochie cutters. The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice tweeted this tweet of sadness right before he adjusted his crotch jewels to make sure they sit up real nice in the Chanel leggings he’s going to wear to catch him husband #2.
It is with great sadness that I announce that my husband and I are no longer together. My heart hurts, and I wish him well.
Johnny told Access Hollywood that he’s had the sads for a long time and realized that the only answer to their marriage woes is to get a great big gay divorce. Access Hollywood also says that Johnny and Victor don’t have a prenup. They got married on New Year’s Eve in 2011.
I don’t know Victor’s financial situation and I don’t know if he’s going to try get his hands on any of Johnny’s, but if he is, then he better put on a suit of armor, hold on tight to a crucifix and have an ambulance on standby. Because if Johnny bites during a fight, imagine what that bitch will do when Victor tries to snatch away his precious pink-dyed panda fur coat, his yellow CZ tiara headband and his ostrich feather shrug. We’re all shivering at the thought.
A month before Johnny Weir made the Sochi Olympics even gayer by bedazzling it with the rhinestones he farts out, he went for the gold medal in the sport of biting a bitch during a lovers quarrel with his husband Victor Voronov. Biting?! Biting?! How trashy! Oh, Johnny, a truly regal swan doesn’t mess up his lip gloss by biting. He dramatically pulls off his white glove finger by finger and gracefully slaps that trick in the face back and forth.
Radar says that sometime in January, the icicle beauty, whose life was the inspiration for the biopic Frozen, got into a fight with Victor at their home in New Jersey. Since Johnny Weir’s previous form was a bitchy white teacup Pom Pom with glitter gel toenails and pink diamante barrettes in his fur, he bit Victor. Victor quickly learned that when you’re bitten by a Crystal Enchantress Vampire, your body responds by oozing white glitter out of its pores and the transformation is complete when you buy your first rabbit fur coat previously owned by a rich old lady at an estate sale and when your b-hole squirts out a single drop of hummingbird juice at the sight of a gold lambskin Chanel bag.
Right after the fight, Victor filed a police report. Johnny Weir sashayed into a court room in Lyndhurst, New Jersey yesterday to answer to the domestic abuse charges. The two must’ve kissed and made up since the fight, because Victor was with Johnny and asked the judge to dismiss the case. The judge did dismiss the case and probably because he was hypnotized by Johnny’s beauty and glamour. The judge actually complimented his mane:
When Weir approached the bench in an unusually subdued black ensemble, the judge took note of Weir’s impeccable style and apparent celebrity status, remarking: “Nice hairdo!”
Without stating any specifics about the case and charges, the judge asked if the “victim” was present and ordered Voronov to approach the bench.
Voronov asked the judge to dismiss the case – and the dismissal was granted.
Radar tried to talk to Johnny outside of the court house, but he refused to.
Johnny should be embarrassed. Johnny carries himself like a refined and genteel Upper East Side Russian widow who kills her enemies with a subtle side-eye and spits in their tea before she serves it to them, but yet he gets into some domestic abuse shit like a common piece of down river trash! How dreadful. Johnny should’ve suggested that they solve their differences by competing in a twirl-off, because: a) he’d win after the first twirl and; b) he’d deliver a new kind of graceful while doing so.
The only reason the sun shines in Sochi is to make the sequins on Johnny Weir’s body sparkle. Loki’s half-brother who calls Pee-wee Herman his father continued to show us what Judy Garland would’ve dressed like if she was still alive today.
At the Olympics today, the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice showed up looking like a disco ball’s tampon. Samson & Delilah, Romeo & Juliet, Cynthia Nixon & Rojo Caliente, Kanye & Kanye, John Travolta’s Scientolohole & massage therapist dick and cookie spread & my mouth are just some of the soulmates in history that are meant to be together. You can add Johnny Weir & sequins to that list.
And this classic moment is obligatory:
I haven’t really been watching the Olympics, because I’ve been filling my brain with much more important and nourishing things like the Rich Kids of Beverly Hills and House Hunters: Where Are They Now?, but every time I switch to NBC I see Bob Costas and his MAN DOWN CODE 10 eye up on there. Dude looks like he got eye fucked by Gerard Butler’s diseased peen. Every time I see Bob’s down-and-out eye I wonder why nobody has bedazzled a pirate patch in America’s patriotic colors and slapped it over that situation. That eye is screaming for a bedazzled eye patch. Just look at that screen shot. He’s practically saying, “arrrrrgh,” and a bedazzled pirate patch would really complete the look. But Bob isn’t doing that, he’s tapping out and handing the baton over to Matt Lauer instead. Bob said in a statement today that he’s tried to make it work, but every day his left eye’s impersonation of Parasite Hilton’s oozing puss keeps getting more and more spot-on, so he’s going to back away from the camera until it gets better.
“It was becoming increasingly noticeable and uncomfortable, but if it was just that, I would have continued. We in broadcasting are lucky to have the jobs we do, and at one time or another, we’ve all gone on the air feeling less than our best. The difference is that last night and into this morning, it got to the point where, as a practical matter, I simply couldn’t do my job because my eyes had become so blurry, watery and sensitive to light. If it was just discomfort, I’d be there. I’m receiving excellent treatment…it’s a viral infection, and all you can do is try to manage the symptoms while the virus runs its course. But I’m hopeful that those symptoms will improve in the next couple of days and I can return to the broadcast.”
Tonight will be the first time since 1988 that Bob hasn’t hosted the primetime coverage of the Olympics. Matt Lauer will step in until Bob’s eye gets better, which is crazy and doesn’t make sense since doctors and scientists have proven (no, they haven’t) that watching Matt Lauer over an extended period of time causes pink eye in more places than two. What NBC should’ve done is replace Bob with the only Olympics commentator who matters: The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice!
Johnny Weir proved this morning that he’s ready for the primetime spot by paying tribute to Bob’s pink eye:
I’d watch more of the Olympics at night if Johnny Weir took the primetime spot, because all of the comments that twirl out of his mouth are covered in frosted sequins and he dresses himself up like the rich great auntie I never had.
(Pic via @olyphil)
Before we get into the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice making ice rinks melt into a pool of tears by retiring, let’s talk about that picture. Here I was thinking that Johnny Wear goes to bed every night in a cocoon of Veet waxing strips and every morning, his husband rips them all off really fast so that his skin is always as smooth as a porn star’s anus. So yeah, that bear arm does not belong to him. The only fur that Johnny Weir likes on his body belongs to other animals.
As expected, Johnny Weir pulled off his crown, took his final bow and skated out of the world of competitive figure skating. Johnny never registered for the qualifier for Nationals, so there was no chance for him to make the Olympic team. Johnny announced his retirement on Today this morning and said that although he’s not going to spread the glitter at the Sochi Winter Olympics in Russia next year, he will be a correspondent for NBC. Johnny said that he’s too old to compete at his third Olympics. I’m pretty sure that NBC is still prejudiced against non-US IPs, so if you can’t see the video below, the only thing you need to know is that Johnny looks like Pee-wee Herman in Thurston Howell III drag.
Matt Lauer asked Johnny about supporting the Sochi Olympics even though the Russian government hates gays, and he said:
“I’m a gay American. I’ve married into a Russian family. I’ve been a longtime supporter of Russia, the culture, the country, the language, everything about Russia. While this law is a terrible thing that you can’t be gay publicly in Russia, I plan to be there in full support of our brothers and sisters there and not be afraid.
If I get arrested, I get arrested; if not, great, but our presence is needed. For all the Olympians that worked so hard, a boycott is just the worst thing that you could do to all these young people.”
I have mixed feelings about this shit, but I’m all for it if Johnny Weir uses only the lyrics to ABBA songs during his commentary and does all of his commentary in front of the Kremlin while wearing a sparkling rainbow bodysuit made of paint and rhinestones. I’d also love it if Johnny sat it front of five dancing go go boys who every ten minutes, stop, turn around, bend over and spread their cheeks to reveal their anus lips painted all the colors of the Olympic rings…but that might be overkill.
(Pic via Webstagram)
Last week, the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice brought the fuckery in full force when he did himself up in full Russian military drag to go on Keith Olbermann’s show and say that we shouldn’t boycott the Sochi Olympics because of Russian’s gay-hating laws. Johnny Weir also said that he’s prepared to get arrested in Russia after he sashays off of the plane in a rainbow catsuit bedazzled with unicorn-shaped rhinestones. I thought Johnny Weir was going to twirl for his life to try to get a spot on the Olympic team since he loves Russia and knew all eyes would be watching his gay ass, but it’s not going to happen.
ESPN says that Johnny didn’t register for the qualifier for national championships and nationals is where the Sochi team is going to be picked. U.S. Figure Skating said that the September 1st deadline for nationals came and went without Johnny signing up. The only way he could’ve gotten a free pass to nationals is if he placed in the top 5 at last year’s nationals or got a medal at the last Olympics. Johnny didn’t do either so his dreams of leaving a trail of silver glitter on the ice in Russia is over. ESPN also says that Johnny is 29, which is old bitch territory in the skating world, so his amateur days are probably done and he won’t compete at another Olympics.
Apparently, Johnny wasn’t even expected to make the team anyway. So I guess he decided that instead of training for qualifiers, he’ll spend his time picking out the perfect fur jock straps and gold chain link tank tops to wear to Sochi since he’ll probably go as a commentator. Don’t forget to pack your Russian military uniform, bitch!
If you’re on a flight from L.A. to NYC and Anderson Cooper is quietly drifting into a silver fox slumber behind you, you have to take a picture of it. It’d be the most IMPORTANT thing in your life. You’re taking care of a screaming baby and that baby refuses to shut up? Show that annoying baby a picture of Andy Coo sleeping and that baby’s eyes will be too busy getting lost in that picture that it will forget to cry. You’re eating delicious pancakes at a Denny’s and a fight breaks out (because that’s just what happens at Denny’s). Show all those fighting whores a picture of Andy Coo sleeping and their raging assholes will instantly cool and you’ll be able to enjoy your delicious pancakes in peace. You’re on a date with me and trying to get away without being too obvious. Whip out that picture and make your escape as I lick the screen. Yes, you’ll lose a phone since I’ll eventually shove it down the back of my chonies, but that’s a small price to pay. What I’m saying is that a picture of Andy Coo doing mimi times is THAT soothing and THAT hypnotic. But the Silver Fox wants no part of that shit and read a bitch his rights for trying to capture that magical moment on his iPhone.
On Kathy last night, Andy said that on his 6am flight to L.A., he was trying to sleep when a sneaky bitch with an iPhone tried to get a picture of him. Andy wasn’t having it, so he grabbed that dude’s shoulder and spit out the line is my ringtone for EVERYTHING! Andy asked that ho, “Bitch, what … are you doing?’”
Oh, and the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice himself, Johnny Weir, was sitting in the next to Andy while all of this went down!!!!
So to recap: Anderson Cooper went on Kathy and told a story about how he called a bitch a “bitch” while sitting next to Johnny Weir. This is the best gay pride gift ever!
via LA Times
If a bitch ain’t getting engaged (see: Retha and LeBron James), then a bitch is getting married. The dried piece of tortured horse meat that is the sanctity of marriage was kicked in its core this past weekend when that slut pig Brandi AnalGlanville married one of her douche hole friends for a day (and for fucking shits), but it also got a sprinkling of glitter on it when human unicorn horn Johnny Weir married his Russian lawyer boyfriend Victor Voronov. Somewhere, there’s a foot massager with a broken heart.
Johnny Twatted this out about his new marriage:
I’m married! @vitya_zvesda ♥
@Jillzarin Wedding in summer! But all the official stuff is done now! No more livin’ in sin!
That summer wedding is on its knees and begging to be filmed for a reality show and I’m on my knees right next to it. Johnny’s wedding is going to be a decadent display of rhinestone-encrusted EXTRAVAGANZAAAAA! Haven’t you always dreamed of seeing a groom wearing a tuxedo made entirely of gold leaf? Johnny will make that dream come true. Haven’t you always dreamed of watching flower girls dressed in swan costumes make figure eights around the two grooms standing under an altar covered in fur flowers? Johnny will make that dream come true. Haven’t you always dreamed of seeing two grooms exchange vows in Russian as an almost naked harpist plays the theme song to Doctor Zhivago? Johnny will make that dream come true.
Johnny and Victor are totally going to get married at this palace of pure elegance:
They mayke yo dreemz come thru! And you can trust them, because they lifted their hands all grand-like when they said it.
And no, Johnny’s dog is not eating your soul with its radioactive eyes. Johnny is so magical that whenever he touches a creature, its eyes turn into glowing mood rings.