But didn’t they all die in the end?
Universal has announced that they’re releasing a sequel to the film version of ABBA-fest jukebox musical, Mamma Mia!. Deadline says that the entire cast is coming back, which means that Pierce Brosnan might sing again. Please, for all that is holy and good in the world, do not let Pierce Brosnan sing again. He sounded like a dying burro in an iron lung. How Meryl Streep’s character didn’t fling herself off a cliff to escape his singing is inexplicable.
In case you haven’t been following the feud between Death Eaters royalty and Hollywood royalty, Karl Lagerfeld fired the first shot when he said that Meryl Streep ordered a Chanel couture gown to wear to the Oscars but waved it away after she found a fashion house that would pay her to wear their dress. Kunty Karl called Meryl “cheap.” Meryl tapped the white-haired vampire’s chest with a stake by saying that she would never accept a check to wear a dress. Karl then dribbled out a generic apology about how he was mistaken. But Meryl really shoved the stake all the way in when she called Kunty Karl a damn liar and refused to accept his weak ass apology. Meryl added that Karl’s lie added a layer of shit on what should be a wonderful moment (aka her getting an Oscar nomination for the 20th time). And that brings us to the Oscars tonight….
Meryl ended up wearing a custom Elie Saab gown-over-pants-thing.
Somewhere in his lair, Kunty Karl took a break from drinking blood out of his current boy toy to look up at the TV and say, “Dress looks cheap, just like her.” And really, I hate Meryl’s look tonight. I really thought she was going to wear a giant gown that had the words, “Fuck You Karl,” written on the front and the words, “And yes, I got paid to wear this bitch,” written on the back. Oh well, maybe next year. You know she’ll be nominated.
This morning, I imagine that the denizens of the House of Chanel can hear a plaintive meowing echoing in their hallowed halls. It’s a despondent kitty named Choupette Lagerfeld. She’s wearing a couture mourning veil and won’t come out of the privacy cave of her solid gold litter box after Meryl Streep publicly blasted her owner Karl Lagerfeld with nuclear actress words. So he’s probably gone now, and all that remains is a snow-white ponytail, a bit of a haughty arched eyebrow, and a still burning black pussy bow. Choupette’s whiskers are bowed this morning.
This week, withering bitchqueen of evil fashion designer, Karl Lagerfeld, claimed that Meryl Streep effed him and Chanel over by nixing an Oscar dress that he was tailoring for her. Karl’s story was that Meryl and her people informed him that they were going with a different fashion house.
The pony-tailed dude who looks like he’s about to leave James Bond in a stylish deathtrap said that there’s a reason why Meryl’s last name rhymes with “cheap!” He claimed Meryl’s reason for bailing on the dress was because other guys, er, gays were willing to pay Meryl to wear their shit.
It’s been much too long since we’ve gotten a random feud that is like Valium for the soul, and thankfully Kunty Karl ended the drought by going after Meryl Streep about a couture dress. I’m not sure who I should direct my, “You in danger, girl,” comment at.
We’ve been shitting up post after post from last night’s Adele Appreciation Ceremony (Featuring Adele Appreciating Beyonce), but another awards show happened yesterday. Two weeks before Hollywood gets dressed up in $15,000 gowns to lick each other’s taints and jack one another off at the Oscars, they got into $15,000 gowns to lick each other’s taints and jack one another off at the BAFTAs last night.