Last night, executives at Katy Perry’s label tore up her contract while screaming, “Well, what do we have then?!”, after she told Jimmy Kimmel that she’s sick of doing sexy videos where her tits are hanging out. Katy told late-night STUNT QUEEN Jimmy Kimmel that his “biggest twerk fail ever” stunt inspired her to prank real children’s birthday parties for the video for her new single “Birthday.” Katy went undercover as 5 of the worst birthday entertainers and one of them was a trashy, drunk, thug clown (no, not Justin Bieber) who ruined a kid’s birthday party. That sounds like a fitting and a totally sensical video concept for a song that’s basically about how Katy Perry’s going to let her birthday boyfriend titty fuck her before he eats cake frosting off of her twat. Here’s a piece of the lyrics:
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big balloons
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big, big, big, big, big, big balloons
Boy, when you’re with me
I’ll give you a taste
Make it like your birthday everyday
I know you like it sweet
So you can have your cake
Give you something good to celebrate
Anyway, Katy played Kimmel a clip where she traumatizes the children by failing to hit the pinata before stumbling into the street where she “causes” a car accident. Katy’s whole act was staged, but TMZ says that none of the children or parents were in on it. TMZ posted a longer clip and they say that scars grew on those children’s innocence as they cried and asked to go home.
Since my heart is a pile of dried-up vulture shit, I smile whenever I see kids crying over clowns, but those kids are total drama queens. So a drunk in a jacked-up outfit took over the pinata stick and ruined the party? Big deal. That happened at all of my birthday parties growing up. It could’ve been a lot worse and Katy could’ve really given those chirrun a reason to cry. I mean, she could’ve performed that “Birthday” song live for them.
Regardless of whether or not you’re a religious person, you should probably slap your hands together and bust out a prayer for the freon-huffing grill-wearing Florida bedbug, Riff Raff, because he is going to be absolutely devastated when he hears that the love of his life has moved on to douchier pastures. If anyone needs your thoughts and prayers today, it’s him. I mean, he needs them anyways, because his life is a fucking mess, but today he’s really going to need them.
According to Page Six, Katy Perry has given us yet another square to block off on our Oh, Here We Go bingo cards by hooking up with DJ/producer Diplo. The two were seen (don’t do it, Allison) CANOODLING backstage at Coachella, with a source saying:
“It was very obvious that Katy and Diplo were together. They seemed inseparable and at one point they were seen getting onto her bus together.”
Getting on a bus together? Slow down, sluts!
I’m sure Diplo is a very nice person, and I’m not making fun of him per-se, but I think we can all agree that DJs are pretty high on the douche spectrum. With that being said, I shouldn’t be surprised that Katy is currently rubbing her dark horse parts on Diplo; ever since she split with The Douchebag King, she’s been trying to fill the douche-scented hole he left in her heart, and there’s no more concentrated form of douche than a guy who gets paid millions of dollars to press buttons on an iPod.
I would think that Katy Perry wouldn’t want to dye her hair mold green since it would remind her of the slimy swamp smegma that drips out of John Mayer’s dick, but she said she was going to go slimer green, so she kept her promise. Katy threw this picture up on Instagram of her looking like Oscar the Grouch’s Emo daughter. I hate that booger green color and mostly because it brings back the painful and traumatic memories of when I shit green for two days and thought I was dying or had fungus growing in my asshole. Yes, I probably have fungus growing in my asshole, but the green shit was from a black cherry slushie from Burger King. So thanks for that, Katy.
In honor of #TBT (or ‘Throw Back That Turd-sday’, as I like to call it) Katy Perry released the artwork for her next single “Birthday” on Twitter this afternoon, and sweet sassy jesus, what a damn mess. This isn’t low-budget, this is no-budget. This is what you get when you place a Craigslist ad looking for a graphic designer to create album cover and the only reply you get is from am1rR@vizbiz.guh telling you he can do it in 1 hour for a Chipotle gift card. Unless the point of this was to look like someone’s dad made it in his Photo Editing for Dummies night school class at the Y, in which case you still failed, because it’s missing Confused Clipart Stickman.
The only thing that gets a sincere thumbs up from me is the shining star of this photoshop disaster, Katy’s sassy lil’ Ginger sister, Angela. Naomi who? Cindy what? Step aside bitches, because we’ve found the 90s greatest supermodel. That face! That little clenched fist expertly tucked under her chin! The way she’s staring at you as if she’s thinking ‘Watch your ass, Stephanie Tanner, I’m coming for you‘! You can’t learn that at Barbizon.
Pic: Katy Perry
In “Dios mio, I wish that Michael Cera as The Riddler story wasn’t an April Fool’s dick pull so I could write about the impending nerd meltdown instead of this shit” news, it looks like the Hazmat medical professionals released Katy Perry from the quarantine tent after removing all the toxic grillz dingles that got stuck in her chocha when she 69′d with Riff Raff. Because Katy Perry is walking amongst us again and on Saturday night she showed up to MOCA’s 35th Anniversary Gala looking like she couldn’t decided between dressing up in low-budget Mrs. White cosplay or low-budget Miss Scarlett cosplay, she dressed as a little of both. At the MOCO Gala (typo and it stays), Katy told E! some riveting shit that a 3rd grader would say if you asked them what they’re going to do on summer break. “Ahs gonna paint my hair a crazy color and do art stuff!” Katy is going to dye her hair slime green and buy art:
“I’ve wanted to go slime green for a long time. It’s spring time and I think it’s time to freshen up my look. I’m really excited about slime green, but I hope my hair doesn’t fall out.
I’m going to slowly become an art collector. Today, we had an all-day art crawl. We got to see some private collections from some people’s homes and then we went to a couple of galleries. What I’m really drawn to is modern contemporary art and pop art, of course. Also some key photography. I’ve always loved Cindy Sherman and today I got interested in Lee Friedlander…This is all brand new. I’m really interested in having an art history education.”
So a millionaire trick who’s dyed her hair every color of the Manic Panic rainbow is going to dye her hair the color of the pus that oozes out of John Mayer’s urethra wart and she’s going to use a sliver of her millions to buy the original of the poster I have hanging in front of my toilet? EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED. But Katy is telling lies about why she’s dying her hair slime green. Bitch isn’t doing it to freshen up her look. Katy’s pussy bush has turned green from letting John Mayer’s radioactive waste of a peen touch her crotch repeatedly. She’s got fungus pubes. Katy can wax or shave that shit off, but it’ll just grow back greener. John’s diseased grossness is so strong that it affects the follicles. So Katy shrugged and figured that she might as well dye the drapes to match the carpet.
Last week, Riff Raff - the antibiotic-resistant herpes sore in white girl Cancun braids (aka that thing burning the innocence off your retinas above) told Katy Perry to put on her best butch Jessie J drag realness and took her out for a night of sushi and bowling. Katy Perry, clearly not giving a fuck about the CDC’s instructions to wait 30 days after her post-John Mayer flea-dip before exposing herself to another questionable crotch situation, agreed and they went out on a date. They went bowling. They had sushi. They posted a picture to Instagram so that future generations would know what a Spring Break cockroach standing next to the world’s thickest application of face spackle looked like.
For the sake of humanity, decency, and every anti-fungal cream in existence, that’s where it should have ended. However, when TMZ asked Riff Raff about making things official with Katy, he replied saying:
“I mean, who knows? Who knows where things might go?”
He also said he’s waiting for her to get back from Belgium (where he thinks she currently is) so they can go on their second date, which will probably either be burgers and go-karts, or pizza and laser tag. Of course, nothing says serious commitment like answering questions about the girl you think you’re dating while fondling the thonged ass of a random hoochie mama:
I know that Riff Raff is the poster child for freon abuse (for legal reasons, the state of Florida has him classified as a litter box) but something in his beady little bedbug eyes tells me he might actually really like Katy Perry. Which is a little bit heartbreaking, because there is no way she’s over her ex yet. She probably only agreed to the date because Riff Raff is a dead-ringer for John Mayer’s itchy-looking dick sores. Poor Riffy; it looks like you’re the raunchy rebound.
And if Riff Raff started mentally picking out china patterns after just one date, I think it’s safe to say we’ve found Taylor Swift’s soulmate.
I think that the 8-layers of toxic face spackle troweled onto her face every day is starting to leach harmful chemicals into her brain, because Katy Perry is talking about feminism once again. And like always, she sounds like that dumb 14-year-old girl from your geography class who was convinced that playing softball in gym class and listening to Ani DiFranco would turn her into a lesbian.
As you may recall, Katy Perry has spoken about feminism in the past, specifically that she is NOT a feminist. But during an interview with Australian talk show I Wake Up With Today (where she does a dead-on Miss Colleen impression) Katy confirms that she IS a feminist, if your definition of feminism comes from the description of a perfume from a 1970s Avon catalogue:
“A feminist? Uh, yeah, actually. I used to not really understand what that word meant, and now that I do, it just means that I love myself as a female and I also love men. I am a strong woman, and hear me roar!”
You lie, Katy Perry! You clearly still don’t understand what that word means. Do I need to pull out the dictionary? Because I think we have to. The definition of feminism isn’t that you love yourself and also love men, dum-dum; it’s the belief that women should be completely equal to men. The end, case closed, put the blanket over the birdcage, take off your women’s studies caftan.
I know I’m expecting a lot from someone who believes their giant tits are the result of writing mouth letters to god, but haven’t we reached the expiry date on being embarrassed to call yourself a feminist? Besides that one guy you knew from high school who keeps liking MRA shit on Facebook, does anyone still hear the word “Feminism” and think of a giant, man-hating braless scissor-pile? Shit, it’s 2014; keep up, Katy.
On the Australian morning show Sunrise yesterday, lesbo-for-pay Katy Perry said that she kissed a girl and didn’t like it at all. The trick who’s put her mouth on Russell Brand’s parts said that when she kissed Miley Cyrus at Miley’s show in L.A., she was expecting a demure little peck and not some St. Angie and James Haven shit. Katy joked that she pulled away, because “God knows where that tongue has been.”
Well, the mutated hybrid of a hillbilly chipmunk and a radioactive lizard slapped at Katy on Twitter today and let a ho know that she is not the one to talk since her tongue has been on John Mayer’s tongue and if John Mayer’s tongue had a passport showing off all the places it’s been, it would be 300 pages long and read like Wikipedia’s list of infectious diseases.
In my post about this mess yesterday, I made the same easy joke that Miley did, but now that I think about it, none of those sucio tramps should talk. I’m sure they all have inadvertently touched tongues. Miley’s tongue touched Katy’s tongue and Katy’s tongue has touched John Mayer’s tongue and since John Mayer’s tongue has licked everything, it probably licked the dirty thong that Miley put in her mouth. The tongue nastiness has come full circle! And now I need to take a tongue scraper to my soul after thinking about all their tongues touching.
And Miley also tweeted this:
Did I really need to see a watercolor portrait of Snow White kissing Draco Malfoy in one of Nancy Kerrigan’s old costumes? That is the most disturbing part of all of this.
During an interview with Australian talk show Sunrise (via NYDN), Katy Perry was asked about touching mouth lips with Miley Cyrus at Miley’s show and she pretty much burped out an “ewwwwwwwwww” while thinking about it. Katy thought the kiss was going to be a G-rated 7th grade slumber party girl-on-girl peck and Miley wanted to bareback bone Katy’s mouth with her tongue. Katy dribbled out this half-gallon of fuel that will power your next 10 eye rolls:
“I just walked up to her to give her like a friendly girly kiss, you know, as girls do. Then she like tried to move her head and go deeper and I pulled away. God knows where that tongue has been. We don’t know! That tongue is so infamous!”
Katy does have a point, but is she really acting like her tongue has only touched freshly washed organic strawberries and the Body of Christ? The CDC will gladly tell you that Katy’s tongue has regularly visited HerpTown (aka John Mayer’s mouth) and has possibly taken a day trip to the Syphilis Mountains (aka Russell Brand’s nuts) and was most likely an honorary citizen of Chlamydia Ditch (aka Russell Brand’s peen slit). So Katy’s tongue shouldn’t get all uppity about Miley’s nasty tongue.
Here’s Katy at Sunrise and try to tell me that koala isn’t thinking to itself, “Gurrrrl, put on some rubber gloves before you pet me. You’ve touched John Mayer down there!”
If you stop into a FedEx Kinkos today and see a sad-looking not-an-engagement ring photocopying his resume, offer to buy his ass some lunch, because bitch is out of a job. According to E! Online, Katy Perry packed up a suitcase filled with all of John Mayer’s casual scarves and Eat-Pray-Love beads, and told him to hit the road:
A source close to the pair exclusively tells E! News that Perry broke up with Mayer within the last few days.
No other details about what prompted the “Dark Horse” singer’s decision were forthcoming, but Mayer was noticeably absent from Perry’s side on her recent trip to London and Milan. She returned home to Los Angeles on Friday.
Despite some early ups and down, the musical pair fast became one of Hollywood’s hottest couples, sweetly gushing about each other in interviews and collaborating on the song “Who You Love,” off of Mayer’s latest album, Paradise Valley.
I spent a good deal of time checking both Katy and John’s Twitter accounts to see if anything was mentioned about a breakup, but there’s nothing there. No, literally, there’s nothing there; I just petitioned life to give me back the 10 minutes I lost (“No dice; you knew what you were getting into” – Life). Really though, this is good news for Katy; with John Mayer out of her life, she’ll finally be able to schedule a little me-time and work on some much-needed self-improvement (like tightening up that lip synching and power washing her mouth).
And a warning to employees of free STD clinics nationwide: say goodbye to those vacation days you saved up and get ready to work some serious overtime. John Mayer’s diseased dick is back on the market again.