Someone crack a window; it smells too much like pure alagance and tasteful saphisticating in here (with just a whisper of candy heart farts). On Friday, Mariah Carey caused the largest recorded case of Type 2 Diabetes when she uploaded a high-fructose corn syrup-soaked Valentine’s Day photoshoot to Facebook, with each picture of Mimi and her jumbo jawbreaker candy tits captioned “Waiting for my Valentine”, “Still Waiting”, and “No Valentine yet”. I like how she makes it seem like she was waiting for Nick Cannon to get home from work or something; just call down to the den and tell him to turn off the Xbox and get his ass upstairs.
Mimi’s gone though a Rainbow phase, a Butterfly phase, and now it looks like we have to wade through her Candy and Champagne phase, which is great, because I can’t get enough of those ex-porn star sketches from SNL. Actually, the more of them I watch, the more I’m starting to think they’ve based their characters on drowsy current-day Mariah. “Can we find an interview on YouTube where Mariah tries to pronounce Louis Vuitton?”
At this point, most of us have seen Mimi’s squeezed-together unicorn chichi domes so many times that when we do see them, we stare at them for a second, sigh and then go back to eating cookie spread straight out of the jar. It’s kind of like if every time you were waiting for the bus at your regular stop, an old man ran by and flashed his peen at you. At first your interest would peak and then after the 100th time it’d be like watching Miley twerk. Your emotions would go from “!” to “….” (Unless you’re a desperate piece of trash like me who always goes “!” when he sees any kind of peen.) So since Mimi is a true artist and is always coming up with new and creative ways to get you to look at her chichis, she smeared them with stripper glitter for her video for “You’re Mine (Eternal).” Mimi wanted to spell out the words “LOOK AT MY TITS” on her chest with Lisa Frank stickers, but the director didn’t think that fit the theme. The theme being that Mimi needs to show as much of her butterfly skin as possible.
That video looks like a remake of Splash starring only Wuzzles.
It’s just a topless Mimi looking confused while straddling a chair that her twins decorated using crap they found in the fake plant section at Michael’s, and a topless Mimi looking confused while giving herself a sensual breast exam near a waterfall, and Mimi looking confused and crampy while swimming in a pool. It’s only slightly less sadder than Blackfish. The director also threw in random shots of a topless Trey Songz in there too. The director should’ve made Trey hold Mimi’s tits. It would’ve been good for continuity purposes and it would’ve given Mimi’s arms and hands a break from covering her Swift Wind nipples all the time. Gold butterfly pasties: Mimi needs some so her hands can rest every now and again.
On two positive notes, I like sparkly things, so I like all that stripper glitter and at least Mimi is forever dedicated to being that trick who says, “Um, my tits are down there,” when you look her in the eyes.
I also don’t recommend you listen to the song at all, but that’s just my unsolicited medical advice (please just let me believe that the billions of hours I’ve wasted watching Dr. Oz make me some kind of medical expert. It’s all I have).
Mariah Carey, in association with The Silicone Awareness Initiative, debuted her new single You’re Mine (Eternal) at BET Honors Saturday night, but since there were only pictures and no audio, we had to put on our thinking caps and imagine what the song sounded like. Personally, I started with Touch My Body, threw in a handful of ‘oooohs’ and ‘babys’ from Honey, then remembered Mimi chose to perform the song by sitting on the stage like a walrus at SeaWorld waiting for her trailer to throw a fish into her mouth, and slowed it all dowwwwwn. And I was pretty close; You’re Mine (Eternal) was released today, but it’s much more monotonous and Mimi sounded much more drowsy. It sort of sounds like the shit they make you listen to when you do one of those overnight sleep studies, or when you’re trying to get a baby to sleep and you set the white noise machine to “calming metronome”. Even the lyrics are just so rudimentary and boring; it sounds like if Patrice Wilson stopped writing songs for 13-year-old girls and moved on to writing songs for grown women with the mentality of a 13-year-old girl. Mind is rhymed with mine so goddamned much, I kept checking to see if the song was co-written by Dem Babies and a Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn.
But the most offensive thing about this song (at least until a video is made, then all bets are off) is that lazily-Photoshoped stock picture of Conversation Hearts. Ah, Conversation Hearts: the grossest of Valentine’s Day candy. Nothing says “The Dollar Store was still open” like Conversation Hearts.
Here’s Mimi in NYC after debuting You’re Mine (Eternal) on Z100 this morning. Shit, even she can’t keep her eyes open after listening to it:
The BET Honors celebrated the careers of Aretha Franklin, Ice Cube and Berry Gordy in DC on Saturday night and the horny butterfly unicorn princess Mimi paid tribute to Aretha’s 8th world wonder chichis by squeezing and propping up her own tits during her performance. Yes, Aretha Franklin’s sleeping walrus chichis could easily eat Mimi’s tits whole and Aretha’s nipples are bigger than Mimi’s chest domes, but it was still a nice and fitting homage. (Although, every damn occasion is an occasion for Mimi to bring her tits out.)
While her oversized concha bread titties tried to hold onto that tit tape and keep from popping out of her elegant gown, Mimi rolled around on a piano like a grizzly bear with fleas scratching its back and yodeled out her new song “You’re Mine.” Here’s more of Mimi looking like a half drunken Capri Sun pouch (copyright: the always right Fresh) dressed up like Jessica Rabbit (“I’m not bad, I’m just Photoshopped that way“) at the BET Honors which airs later this month. Everything about this look is dignified and regal from her armpit cleavage to the top of her Spanx coming out to play.
Um, where do I submit my application/credentials to be the red carpet fluffer at next year’s SAG Awards?
Before a bunch of actors went into the Shrine Auditorium in L.A. to suck each other off while accepting their SAG Award, Bradley Cooper got a little dude-on-dude action on the red carpet. You’re probably looking at that picture and thinking, “John Travolta lost a bunch of chunk and finally got a believable wig!” That picture does look like the Scientology version of taking communion.
At first I thought the dude on his knees was Leonardo DiCatchAHo and B. Coop lured him to his crotch by putting Victoria’s Secret Angel wings on his dick. But E! says that the dude who got a face full of Cooper crotch is Ukrainian prankster Vitalii Sediuk. Vitalii tried to crash Adele’s speech at the Grammy’s last year but JLo’s hungry hungry hippo ass swallowed him up and spit him out in the parking lot. When B. Coop, Mandy Patinkin and Michael Pena realized that Vitalii was turning that red carpet into a glory hole (without the wall), they laughed, they picked him up and the crotch sniffer was escorted off of the carpet. Surprisingly, he didn’t get his ass whooped. So when some Ukrainian prankster puts his face on a dude’s dick area without permission, he’s gently escorted out of the area. But when I do the same thing with a fellow consenting gay at Runyon Canyon Park, I get tased by the police and dragged off to jail. Got it.
Here’s more of B. Coop and the other dudes of the SAG Awards.
You can thank Nick Cannon for any time you spend thinking about Mariah Carey naked today. The America’s Got Talent host and Mimi’s child groom was asked by USWeekly how they keep things hot even though they have two-year-old twins.
“Lots of sex,” Cannon candidly told Us at the Variety Breakthrough Awards in Las Vegas on Thursday, Jan. 9.
You know Mariah goes through every high note from “Emotions” as she climaxes. And hey, if Nick can get it up in her Hello Kitty room, more power to him but I still don’t want to think about his o-face. It’s probably the same look I get when the chair I’m reclining in starts to tip over.
At least the two of them have a million rooms to fuck in that their kids don’t even know exist. The rest of us have to hope the door lock holds so we don’t look over mid-thrust and see a creepy figure standing next to the bed like a mini Jehovas Witness. Instead of wanting talking to you about accepting Jesus as your Lord and savior, they want to lay out their argument for getting a pet kangaroo at 11:15 at night. Is it too much to ask to get your freak on in peace and pass out so you can be woken up at 5:15 by the same kid who won’t let the fucking kangaroo thing go?
Everybody already knew this, but now this cover makes it official. The part of Mimi’s brain that operates reason is completely backwards. Mimi was frolicking around all horny-like in a bikini in Aspen while there was snow on the ground and iciness in the air and here she is in a pool, a place where most hos wear a bikini, and she’s wearing a goddamn gown. Bitch, you got mixed up!
I guess Mimi and Nick Cannon are supposed to look like they were having so much fun and they got so drunk that they fell into the pool, but only the bottom part of their bodies are wet. Are they getting baptized? Why are they wearing red? Is this an Illuminati baptism? Where’s Beyonce? And Nick looks like he’s holding in a major fart while trying not to back away from Mimi as he feels something warm covering his crotch. Yeah, she totally pissed on him.
And “black love” reminds me of Whitney and BOBBAAAAY B saying that their love is black love, because he pops her doody bubbles. So Ebony is letting us know that Nick pops Mimi’s doody bubbles and I bet they smell like liquid bubbles, Lisa Frank-scented pencils, hummingbird juice and Starlite’s burps.
Is there a fucking echo in here?!? Less than two weeks ago I wrote about Mariah Carey performing for a maybe-sorta-probably Dictator-type, which came less than two years after Mariah performed for definitely-absolutely bad guy Gaddafi, and here we are again! I honesty thought she’d have enough sense to space out her blood-money gigs one or two years apart, but I guess when an opportunity for you to clickity-clack-make-that-money comes along, you don’t have enough time to take a peek at who’s signing your cheques.
Amnesty International should confirm with Mimi which address they have on file, because clearly their pamphlets and newsletters have not been getting to her house. According to Radar, Mimi spent New Year’s Eve performing at a party hosted by Hassanal Bolkiah aka the Sultan of Brunei aka ANOTHER FUCKING DICTATOR-TYPE:
Carey’s New Year’s host at London’s Dorchester Hotel — and likely the one who signed her paycheck — has been “absolute ruler” of the nation of Brunei since 1967 and amended the country’s constitution to make himself “infallible” in 2006. According to CBS News, his government has been accused of “arbitrary detention; limiting freedoms of press, speech and assembly; restricting religious freedom; discriminating against women; restricting labor rights; and exploitation of foreign workers.”
Bolkiah also recently announced that he will rule his country according to Islamic Sharia laws in 2014, which will make it legal for adulterers to be stoned to death, thieves to have their hands cut off, and worse.
Carey will likely plead ignorance to his behavior, though she has been close friends with the Sultan’s son, Prince Azim, for years.
Oh my god, Mimi, who’s next? Admiral General Haffaz Aladeen? Kim Jong-un? The re-animated ghost of Idi Amin? And why stop at real-life super villains? You think your agent could book you a gig singing for Leonardo DiCaprio’s character from Django Unchained or at Skeletor’s birthday party at Castle Grayskull? The sky is the limit, Mariah! We haven’t even touched on how much money you could make from singing for Dr. Evil or Jafar from Aladdin!
(Pic via Instagram)
It’s 2011 all over again! These fucks need to learn that you have to do some research before you agree to perform in a country that you can’t even pick out on the Carmen Sandiego map. You know why I’ve never eaten at Del Taco or Yoshinoya? Because I do my research by Yelping that shit first; and when the first three reviews that come up sound like the strained moans of a haunted spirit, I know to stay away, no matter how good a deal $0.59 tacos sound. Celebrities need to start Yelping countries before they go to them to make sure they aren’t getting down with shady shit. Case in point…
According to The Guardian, on December 16th Mimi flew to Luanda (Hank Hill’s niece if she were from Houston instead of Arlen) to perform at a gala held to benefit the Angola Red Cross in exchange for $1M. As it turns out, Mariah’s paycheque can only be cashed at the Bank of Blood Money, because the gala was held by a father-daughter dictatorship duo:
Platina Line, a local entertainment website, published numerous photos from the events, showing Carey singing in a bikini top and a Santa Claus dress, as well as posing with Isabel dos Santos, president of the Angola Red Cross, and Dos Santos’s father, José Eduardo dos Santos.
But as the Human Rights Foundation has since pointed out, José Eduardo dos Santos is not just the parent of a minor African diplomat: he is Angola’s president, an autocrat who has governed the country since 1979. Isabel dos Santos – nicknamed “the princess” – is Africa’s richest woman and also a co-owner of Unitel. After studying in London, Isabel amassed a fortune of more than €1bn (£835,000) – in part, critics say, from the fruits of government corruption. Meanwhile, the majority of Angolans live on less than $2 a day.
The article also mentions the total raised for the Angola Red Cross that night. Drumroll please…$65,000! Spending $1M to make $65,000? Now, I’m no bueno at math, but something in the milk ain’t clean here.
I know a cheque is a cheque, but Mimi is taking whatever is thrown at her without realizing it could be soaked in the tears of oppression (I’m so deep). All she has to do is call up any human rights organization and ask for the 411 on a certain country and they’ll give you the thumbs up or the thumbs down, and she can collect that cash. You can’t do this alone, Mimi! You’re not smart enough to make these decisions! Fuck, you’re barely smart enough to make good decisions when it comes to what you’ll wear on stage.
(Pic via Facebook)
Some say that the Christmas season doesn’t officially start until someone gets stabbed while fighting over a $100 DVD at Walmart on Thanksgiving night. But I’ve always felt that the Christmas season doesn’t really begin until three pairs of Spanx on Mimi’s body are screaming for mercy as she yodels out high notes during some tree lighting somewhere. The festivities (read: getting drunk on peppermint schnapps and switching your regular lube to egg nog-scented) leading up to Baby Jesus’ born day can really begin now that Mimi has sung out “All I Want For Christmas Is You” (what fucking else?) while wrapped in a bedazzled Spandex cocoon at the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree lighting.
Those singing children are braver than me, because there’s no way I’d stand that close to Mimi. There’s a 99% chance those pairs of Spanx and that three-sizes-too-small dress will let go and let God, and rip apart sending rhinestones and pieces of Spandex flying everywhere. One of those flying rhinestones could blind a kid. But thankfully that didn’t happen and if it did, I’m sure they’ll edit it out of the final broadcast so it won’t ruin your holiday. Happy Mimimas!