A fresh glimpse of a shirtless Chris Hemsworth is probably the best part of this story. Marvel took a huge infodump (how nicely put) at San Diego Comic-Con this weekend. They debuted the new trailer for Thor: Ragnarok (aka Chris Hemsworth Has A Better Haircut And Remains A Thirst Trap), showed the first image of Brie Larson as Captain Marvel, and announced who would be playing the part of the FIRST Wasp in Ant-Man and the Wasp. It’s kind of a big name. I hope she sings “Cool Rider” in the movie to distract me, because I can only take so much of Paul Rudd’s “I’ll always be funnier than you” smirk. (And if you figured out who the actress in question is because of that song title, we are friends til’ the end.) Continue reading
The Real Star Of The Trailer For “Murder On The Orient Express” Is Kenneth Branagh’s Magnificent Silver Stache And Pussy Patch
Poirot purists (Poirists?) are screaming blasphemy today, because the trailer for the new Murder on the Orient Express movie is out and Kenneth Branagh’s ridiculous Poirot look is all wrong. While I love Kenneth Branagh’s grey Wilford Brimley-on-roids mustache and the porn star grandma’s crotch patch on his chin, many don’t. Some Agatha Christie fans don’t want a Poirot not named David Suchet, let alone a Poirot who looks like a shapeshifting human who is about 5% into shapeshifting into a fluffy grey cat. I guess some can’t appreciate a stache that looks like two streams of hairy snot coming out of a nose.
Show me a person who looks at that stunning work of art above and can honestly say that they hate the movie that made it possible, and I’ll show you a not-knowing trick whose opinion should never ever be trusted again! And one of those tricks is Olivia Newton-John.
Long before Michelle Pfeiffer maintained her beauty and strength by catching baby deer in the wild and sucking their blood under a full moon (Wolf was a documentary), she hooked up with a cult of crazies who believed that humans only needed a diet of sunshine and air to survive. It’s kind of funny that insane bitches who only eat air for breakfast, lunch and dinner don’t get that much oxygen to their brains.
Michelle tells The Sunday Telegraph’s Stella Magazine that when she first moved to Los Angeles from Orange County, she got involved with a couple who she describes as “personal trainers.” They were really into dieting and really into weights. Michelle says that she no idea that was she was a disciple of their cult even though they wanted to control her life and believed that humans in their highest state could survive without food and water.
“They worked with weights and put people on diets. Their thing was vegetarianism. They were very controlling. I wasn’t living with them but I was there a lot and they were always telling me I needed to come more. I had to pay for all the time I was there, so it was financially very draining. They believed that people in their highest state were breatharian.”
Dear Michelle, any trick who tells you that you don’t need donuts to survive is a minion of Satan and you better throw holy water at their faces before running far, far away. An evil whore who hates donuts is no friend of Jesus.
I guess Michelle was new to the whole “common sense” thing, because she didn’t realize she was involved in a cult until she met her first husband Peter Horton who had just been cast in a movie about the cult known as the Moonies. While helping Peter do research on Rev Moon Sun-myung’s Unification Church, she talked to ex-Moonies and the similiarties between their experience and her experience made her realize that she was involved in some wrong shit.
“We were talking with an ex-Moonie and he was describing the psychological manipulation and I just clicked.”
Michelle never names the cult she was involved with, but let’s put the clues together. They didn’t eat food, they didn’t drink water and they believed that air is the only nourishment your body needs. It’s obvious that the cult Michelle was involved with is called “the modeling industry.”
And Goopy Paltrow took a sip from her cup of organic beluga whale breath after saying, “What a weak bitch.“
Patients in Los Angeles-area hospitals suffering from severe constipation and extreme vomit phobias were transported to the premiere of
New Year’s Eve Apocalypse Eve at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre last night for five reasons: Lea Michele, Ashton Kutcher, Katherine Heigl, Fuggie Fug and Josh Duhamel (or as their known in the medical community: suppository, douche, enema, diuretic and activated charcoal). Even the quadra power beauty queen beauty of Michelle Pfeiffer, Zac Efron, Sofia Vergara and Barbara Eden wasn’t powerful enough to soothe the heaves coming out of a bitch when they watched Ick (aka Lea) and Nast (aka Ashton) mug it up for the cameras. Ashton, I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen tits that aren’t made of Plaster of Paris, but please calm yourself. I swear, this premiere had more empty stomachs and clean pussies than a virgin bulimia convention. Sucio all around.
Katherine needs to give 2001 Hillary Clinton her hair back, Ashton needs to give Mary Katherine Gallagher her hair back and both Fuggie and Lea just need to stop everything. There aren’t enough chairs for all the bitches here who really need to have a seat in the back.
I was going to make a post asking who was the least annoying slag at last night’s New Year’s Eve premiere, but that’s like choosing between a beej from a garbage disposal or a prostate exam from a pitchfork. Which funnily enough, is probably the sensation a ho feels when sitting through that shit bag of a movie.
Michelle Pfeiffer to Instyle (via P6) on being called a cougar:
“I so hate that term! Colette wrote these novels [about older women with younger men] so long ago, but even today they’re ahead of their time in the way we perceive women’s power and sexuality.”
This cougar is not amused:
Here’s non-cougar Michelle with her husband David E. Kelley at a screening for her movie Cheri (which is about a cougar) in NYC last night.