When I was younger, I wanted so badly to go to the mall and get some glamour shots taken. Sadly, we didn’t have a Glamour Shots®-brand photo studio in the mall closest to where I lived, and I wasn’t willing to settle for the sub-par Classy Clicks at the Sears portrait studio (it wasn’t actually called Classy Clicks, but I can assume it was some kind of lame-sounding Glamour Shots rip-off). So I never got to experience the sheer joy and soft-focus sophistication that comes from putting on a feather boa and gently caressing the right side of your face with your left hand in front of a Glamour Shots camera. I know, you’ll cry for me later, I’m sure.
Of course, that’s the sort of thing you never really get over, and seeing Diana Ross at the American Music Awards last night looking like a glamorous feather boa-wrapped beauty didn’t help. Look at her! She’s EXACTLY what I imagined my Glamour Shots shot would look like: those carefree curls, her chin resting delicately on her exposed shoulder, the coy look in her eyes that says “I’m classy, but also a lil’ sassy.” All that’s missing is a dusty mauve backdrop and a 60W incandescent light bulb illuminating her from behind.
In case you’re wondering why she was at the AMAs and not at home getting a 24k gold facial like she SHOULD be, it’s because she was hired to present Taylor Swift with the Dick Clark Award for Excellence. And no, she didn’t bounce one of Tay Tay’s tittes – we’re not that lucky.
Here’s more of Miss Diana Ross sashaying down the red carpet of the American Music Awards in a coat made from Archimedes’ relatives, as well as everyone else at the AMAs, including gorgeous humanoid Dencia, a silk-wrapped JLo, and Jessie J, who looks like a very fancy makeup consultant:
And that, my friends, is the exact face one should make when they’re in the presence of one of Pimp Mama Kris’s Krotch Droppings. “I don’t care how much we paid for admission, we need to leave. Now. Seeing one of the babies means that the mother isn’t far behind.”
Friday marked the kick-off of the world’s largest hipster costume party, the Coachella Jorts and Selfies Festival in Indio, CA, and I guess all those $20,000 cheques cleared, because celebrities have started swarming Coachella like rats to an open dumpster behind KFC. Now, technically Coachella doesn’t officially begin until the arrival of the First Lady of Fauxhemia, Vanessa Hudgens. But since it usually takes her hours, even days, to get ready (it takes time to dry hump the 70s), she usually let’s them go ahead and start without her.
I know we’re less than 24-hours into this weekend-long Urban Outfitters commercial, but already Aaron Paul has won my heart by embracing the true spirit of Coachella. It’s not about $200 custom jorts or having the longest gauzy vest or the widest hat; it’s about dancing like nobody’s watching while rolling hard on shrooms:
Either Aaron Paul is higher than Jesse Pinkman after snorting a pound of blue crystal meth, or he’s working hard for that $15,000. Either way, I’ll be right back: I need to pray to a giant piece of New Age quartz that there’s a video somewhere of Aaron Paul dancing to Ellie Goulding all by himself in a little circle, because I need that in my life.
Here’s more hookers clickety-clacking along the Coachella stroll on Friday, including Selena Gomez (sans King Joffrey Bieber), Marla Hooch and The Model One (that sounds like an 80s cop show: Hooch & The Model) Joe Jonas and his girlfriend Basic Bitch Blanda, a rotten leftover from the refrigerator of 2005 and her sister Nicky Hilton, and Kellan Lutz, who if I had to guess, got paid $200 and a voucher to a taco stand:
If you’re anything like me, you started your morning out sitting somewhere in a daze, desperately reaching for the coffee maker from across the room like some kind of bunkassed Jedi while inviting Daylight Saving Time to blow you. Reading that Chris Kirkpatrick got married and watching some old N’SYNC videos on YouTube is doing a better job breathing life into me than coffee ever could. Between the TLC-wore-it-better satin pajamas, Justin’s moldy Top Ramen hair, JC dry humping a padded cell and Lance Bass as a chick magnet, this is better than caffeine.
Anyway, fifth runner up in a 1998 spring break Adam Duritz lookalike contest Chris married Karly Skladany on Saturday with all his band members in attendance. Loose-lipped Lance (also his Craigslist username) gave a few details about the wedding during his XM Satellite radio show Dirty Pop (via USWeekly) on October 29, including Chris having little interest in the “finer things”, resulting in the renting of Joey-Fatone-size-fits-all tuxedos.
“What’s really hilarious to me is that we went to get fitted for our tuxes at Men’s Warehouse — and he got us the cheapest tuxes there he could possibly get, which I think is so Chris and very lovely,” Bass revealed during his show. “I mean that’s just who he is.”
He joked: “I think its hilarious to know that Justin Timberlake is going to be in a Men’s Warehouse tux ushering the wedding.”
“Chris is a cheap ass motherfucker and should know I don’t get out of bed for less than Armani! The only good part about this crap is knowing Timberlake will be at the reception, busting out the Electric Slide in rented pants steeped in so much dried groomsman ball sweat, no amount of dry cleaning will ever get it out.”
Weddings these days seem so over the top and self-indulgent, knowing someone had a shitload of money to spend and didn’t is a nice change of pace. Looking at you, Kanye. All this wedding really needed to be successful was some floor-clearing “Bye Bye Bye” marionette choreography, Justin doing an impromptu “Dick In A Box” performance while grinding on Chris’s grandma, and the always classy Reichen Lehmkuhl crashing the open bar, declaring his love for Lance and being forcefully removed from the premises by Jessica Biel.
(Pic via Twitter)
Who ever said that the quickest and easiest way to reel in some hot ass is to get an ‘N Sync royalty check every month and regular invitations to illustrious events like Fergie’s big gay baby shower was right! My favorite ‘N Sync ho (after the midget pineapple Chris Kirkpatrick, of course) said on Instagram today that he asked his hot piece of 21 months Michael Turchin to be his husband and of course his hot piece said yes. It felt like it was only ten seconds ago when Lance Bass was fucking Reichen from The Amazing Race and now he’s getting married to this upgrade. I’m only calling him an upgrade, because he’s got a belly button that looks like an eye throwing an up-eye.
Here’s Michael showing off the black diamond ring that Lance bought him:
UsWeekly says that Lance and Michael, who’s a model and aspiring actor (aren’t they all?), got engaged in New Orleans. Lance even texted Michael’s parents to ask for his hand in marriage. Texting for permission? If Michael’s parents are anything like my mom then that text conversation must’ve been a mess. My mom barely learned how to text and auto-correct is her forever enemy. Her texts never make sense. So if some dude texted to ask for my hand in marriage, she’d reply with: Nest pudding yearn of zoos hose she not warts boo hand sea mall nine villain LOL (Translation: Yes but only if you move me in with you two and pay all my bills LOL).
And I really hope Topanga officiates Lance’s first wedding.
I should’ve warned you to put on a pair of goggles and a mouth mask before staring at that picture, because now you’ve probably got L.A. Looks gel crusties stuck to your eyeballs and you’re choking on a cloud of White Rain hairspray fumes.
Millions of 20-somethings and 30-somethings are recovering this morning after the teenager inside of them blew up while reading about how ‘N Sync may reunite at the MTV VMAs this Sunday. Justin Timberlake is getting the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award and Page Six says that during his performance, Lance Bass, JC Chasez, Chris Kirkpatrick and Joey Fatone will sashay out for an ‘N Sync reunion. ‘N Sync all hung out together on Friday night at Justin’s show in Miami, so that means their reunion is TOTALLY going to happen or Lance, JC, Chris and Joey were only there for the open bar.
I am all for this reunion, but only if they reunite with those outfits and hairstyles too. Justin needs to break up with Keratin and bring back his uncooked Ramen noodle hair and JC needs to remind George Clooney who the true King of the 90s Caesar Cut was. And I really miss Lance Bass looking like a middle-aged lesbian comedian from the 90s who never really made it and always accuses Ellen DeGeneres of stealing her life! And those pajama tops….. and Joey Fatone’s gorgeous brunette angel wing bangs. I am lost in this picture and could go on and on…
Jennifer Hudson is like my meth head ex-boyfriend’s peen: Every time I see her, she looks skinnier and skinnier. But unlike my meth head ex-boyfriend’s peen, JHud has no trouble standing erect without the help of a 2-hour hand job, a lot of coaching and a mess of Viagra. (I think).
JHud, who is putting out a weight-loss book soon (Chapter 1 – Become a spokeswoman for Weight Watchers. If that’s not possible, smoke crack and bid adieu to all your ribs), nearly made her fingers kiss when she posed on the carpet at amfAR’s Inspiration Gala in NYC last night. Ugh. When I put my hands around my waist, my fingers can barely see each other’s tips because a hilly mound of bloat is blocking their view of each other. If Weigh Watchers had Cheetos nachos, Frosted Circus Animal Cookies and Coke Margaritas on their menu and gave complimentary lipo each week, I’d totally join! If JHud loses anymore weight, she’ll win every single Verdine White look-alike contest and that’s reason enough to be mad at her.
Here’s more of JHud at last night’s amfAR along with: Ke$hit (who gets a D- for her tuck game), Heidi Klum, James Franco, Lance Bass and a melting Victorian Vampire wax doll with an American History X extra.
Marc Jacobs’ ex-fiance Lorenzo Martone confirmed last week that they are no longer spending their nights together doing 500 crunches (foreplay) before painstakingly plucking out the long hairs on their beard to keep that shit looking as manicured as Norwood Young’s hairline. Lorenzo claims that his relationship with Marc ended around two months ago. Gatecrasher reports that Lorenzo didn’t even let the Marc Jacobs brand saliva on his nipple dry before he started bumping nalgas with Lance Bass. Lorenzo and I obviously go to the same church since we both believe that life is too short to let your no-no go cold.
For the past few months, Lance and Lorenzo have been seen out on several dates around NYC and Miami. One of Lance’s friends says that the two are dating, but doesn’t think they are going to last very long. The friend said that Lorenzo is trying to get serious, but Lance isn’t exactly creaming at the mouth about their relationship, because he likes them “younger and prettier.”
Younger and prettier?! I need to update my files, because I was under the impression that if you are Brazilian, have a peen and can crack a hazelnut with your bicep, Lance will find a way to fit you into his briefs. I guess not. But Lance is not right for the “younger and prettier” thing. I mean, does Lance remember this:
How soon Lance forgets that he once looked like the postmature love child of Rosie O’Donnell and Kelli Carpenter.
And here we have Lance Bass showing us what one looks like after getting a facial from Glamberace. Yes, we’ve always known Glamberace ejaculates rouge and liquid eyeliner. That’s why you better bring make-up remover to gargle with if you ever plan on going down on Glamberace.
Lance gently got face fucked with every brush in Xtina’s make-up box for photographer Mike Ruiz who said he was going for a Spandau Ballet and Gary Numan look. Mike might say this Gary Numan-ish, and others might say Lance is wig snatching Glamberace. I say this reminds me of the time my Puerto Rican friend tried to dress up as Freddie Mercury for Halloween but ended up looking like a Robert Palmer girl as seen through the eyes of a 12-year-old goth.
And Lance’s eyebrows look like two amputee weasels trying to kiss each other, so I approve of this look. Yes, I failed the inkblot test.