In case your friends posting all over Instagram and Facebook this weekend about how Beyoncé changed their lives didn’t give you a hint, Queen B turned 36 yesterday. She managed to snatch the Labor Day focus off BBQ and summertime sadness, and onto herself for the highest holiday in the Beyhive’s calendar.
But Bey’s day wasn’t celebrated how us normal folks might do. We have happy hour margaritas and inevitable tears about accomplishing jack shit. Beyoncé has Michelle Obama dressing up in a Beyonce costume for an artistic photo shoot. Continue reading
The day after thousands of people took to the streets to protest against America’s future evil orange overlord, the hardened glob of lithium grease and Melania Trump toured the little DC pied-à-terre they’ll move into next year. As Melania strolled through the dusty old shack she’s been forced to downgrade to, she made an internal checklist of all of the things she’ll need to switch out with something gold, crystal or marble. Eventually her internal checklist got so big that she decided to chuck it and declare that bitch a tear-down. Melania will get her husband to use his pull to rip the White House of its landmark status, so they can bulldoze that shanty down and build a gold skyscraper palace fit for the Queen of the United States! No, she’s not going to do that. She’s going to keep everything, even her idol Michelle Obama’s sleepin’ pillow, which she’ll hug and sniff every night.
The Obamas hosted their last state dinner in the White House last night and their guest of honor was Italy’s Prime Minister Matteo Renzi and his wife Agnese Landini, so they went full Italian and delivered the best of Italy! Guests were served authentic Italian dishes from the Olive Garden, entertainment was provided by world-renowned Hungarian-Italian superstar Ciccolina and both President Obama and Michelle Obama wore ensembles from celebrated Italian designer Z. Cavaricci. I made all that up. Like the White House party planners have taste!
“Oh, so that’s what I looked like when a boyfriend dragged me to an Uncle Kracker concert in 2003” is what I thought while watching Susan Sarandon’s face go on a journey from “fuck this” to “no, really fuck this” to “no, no, really fuck. this.” in a matter of seconds while sitting in the audience at the Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia last night.
And yes, I’m as good at Photoshop as Melania Trump is at delivering an original speech.
Why do I have a feeling that yesterday afternoon, Taylor Swift sent an untraceable e-mail to her secret friend Melania Trump, telling her down low squad member that she wrote a passionate speech that is perfect for the Republican National Convention. Tay Tay sent the Slovenian jewel a plagiarized speech, because she knew that the media would pounce all over that and temporarily forget about the Kimye disaster. That mega demonic Nellie Olesen will destroy anyone to protect her image!
On any given Saturday night, you’d usually find me passed out on a pile of fun size 3 Musketeers wrappers with a dried stream of red wine drool clinging to my face. But this past Saturday night, you’d find me smoking a cigarette in bed in between wiping the sweat off of my forehead with a cold wet towel after having some Photoshop fun with that picture of Prince Hot Ginge busting out a happy O face while grasping onto a bottle. Yes, that’s the most action I’ve had in years.