Uh oh, there goes Billy Ray’s dream of floatin’ round in the fancy cee-ment pond at the Kennedy Compound this summer. According to The Enquirer (via Radar), the molly-dusted 4-month-old photo op love affair between hillbilly princess Miley Cyrus and Patrick Schwarzenegger might be over.
A source (Hollerin’ Hank who lives down at the ol’ shouting tree) claims that Miley was expecting Patrick to put an engagement ring on her hitchin’ finger this Valentine’s Day, which he didn’t, and now she’s disappointed. That surprises me; Miley and her family has always struck me as less of an engagement ring type and more of a shotgun wedding type.
And it sounds like Miley is going to be waiting a while for that ring. Patrick has apparently been talking to one of them handsome Hemsworth brothers, and he was advised not to go to Jared. The source says that Miley’s former fiance Liam Hemsworth felt like he owed it to Patrick to warn him about making a serious commitment to Miley, because he has experienced her “dark side” first hand. Dark side? I don’t know if that goofy hillbilly is deep enough to have a dark side. Miley is probably the type who quits a Ouija board 6 minutes in because she gets too impatient. “Listen y’all, I’m gonna go roll a joint. Holler at me if one of those dang ghosts shows up and says something spooky.”
Of course, this could all just be jealous moonshine talk from the local meth head whose is still sore that Miley went and broke his heart by snaggin’ herself a fancy city boy. Who knows. But here’s Patrick and Miley looking like they don’t hate each other while going for a hike with Nicole Richie (???) and some friends this weekend:
Pics: Splash, Wenn.com
I don’t know what the hell is on the floor in that picture, but it’s giving me a major craving for string cheese (“What else is new?” just hissed my stomach).
Gwyneth Paltrow Instagrammed this picture of Jennifer Lopez, Patrick Schwarzenegger, Miley Cyrus, Scarlett Johansson, and Amy Adams sitting in the front row of Tom Ford’s FW15 womenswear show in Los Angeles last night, and it was literally only 1/856th of the famous types that were there. Everybody was there. And when I say everybody, I mean everybody. Beyonce? YES. Angelica Huston? YES. Gina Gershon? HELL YES. My great aunt Gladys? PROBABLY. I haven’t asked her yet, but I’m assuming she was there, since everybody was there. It was like the Oscars and the Grammys and the Emmys and the CableACE Awards got together in the backseat of a 1994 Ford Tempo and made a random fluids baby.
I don’t know what Tom Ford did to get that many famous types at his fashion show, but it must have involved promising to wash their cars for a year or “take care” of their enemies and make it look like an accident or something, because people that I haven’t seen in forever showed up. Faith Hill was there. When is the last time you saw Faith Hill at something? Robbie Williams. ROBBIE WILLIAMS! I’m sure if the dog from Fraiser hadn’t died 9 years ago, he would have been there too.
And I know Kanye West thinks he’s a legitimate fashion designer now, but he needs to realize that you haven’t made it until Cristal Connors from Showgirls shows up to your show. Until then, you’re still a nobody (sorry Kanye). Here’s a bunch of famous people from Tom Ford’s show last night, including the living life legend herself Gina Gershon, Goopy, Reese Witherspoon, Sofia Vergara and Joe Manganiello, and John Legend wearing a Canadian Tuxedo for some reason:
And just like that, it appears we’ll never hear the words “…and the Pussy goes to...” and “Miley Cyrus” in the same sentence. Well, maybe not never; it’s really only a matter of time before that horny horny hillbilly says ‘eh, screw it‘ and makes a soft-core porno (I have a feeling the wait won’t be long). But for now, Miley is still just a yodelin’ stripper chipmunk because her dreams of crossing over into the adult film world have been killed. Page Six says that Miley’s reps have pulled her black and white art school bondage film Tongue Tied from the New York City Porn Film Festival one day after it announced it had been submitted.
Apparently Miley’s people are pissed because festival organizer Simon Leahy claimed Miley personally submitted Tongue Tied in order to convince the production company that made it (Cadence Films) to grant permission to use it. So they told him to remove it from the festival and all festival listings. A spokesperson for Miley hissed the following about the shady situation:
“Miley was proud to make a film with acclaimed filmmaker Quentin Jones. She did not instigate this festival submission and is not participating in any way.”
Cadence Films also chimed in, saying that they were sent misleading emails from Simon Leahy about the whole thing. They claim they were told Tongue Tied would be shown along with other shorts at an artist-run space in Bushwick. It wasn’t until yesterday that they discovered it was actually something called the New York City Porn Film Festival. Simon Leahy slapped back at them, claiming they didn’t do their research and that they’re being pearl-clutching prudes because the film festival has the word “porn” in the title.
And somewhere in a home-made plywood cabin in the backyard of a Toluca Lake mansion, Miley is smoking a dirty joint and thinking “Dang y’all, what a bummer. This was going to be my first time participatin’ in a festival that didn’t have the word Ribs or Chili the title.“
I’m sure your brain went straight to picturing a half-naked Miley Cyrus posing on the VHS cover of something called Horny Hillbilly Slutz, but I’m afraid it’s actually some artsy black and white artsy business that can barely be classified as porn. I know, what a bummer. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say I was really looking forward to a scene between Miley and the moonshine delivery guy. “Hey y’all, I didn’t order no moonshine – but I will take a swig outta yer jug, if ya know what I mean. Wink! I’m talkin’ bout yer penis! Alright y’all, drop them trousers” [sexy banjo music starts playing].
According to E!, Miley has submitted a short film titled Tongue Tied to the New York City Porn Film Festival. Miley made Tongue Tied last year for her Bangerz tour, and it features everyone’s favorite amateur stripper chipmunk writhing around with her nipple bits covered in electrical tape. Festival founder Simon Leahy describes it as: “It’s a pop take on S&M. She’s starting to become more of a contemporary artist.” He then added “…and it’s great timing, because this was the first year we’ve featured entries from the rodent community. We also received a tasteful masturbation short from that horny lady squirrel from The Sword in the Stone.”
Here’s Miley’s porno, which is only a little NSFW:
It’s like American Horror Story meets attention-seeking art school student who just recently considered legally changing her name to “Blayde” meets Madonna: Truth Or Dare meets a gas station meth dealer’s home-made version of Fifty Shades of Grey. Which is to say, I didn’t hate it?
Here’s the future NYC Porn Film Festival award winner (Best Okay We Get It You’re Not Hannah Montana Anymore) at a Grammy party on Saturday night with her current photo-op contract piece Patrick Schwarzenegger:
I’m not sure what the inspiration behind Charli XCX’s Grammys outfit was, but I like to imagine that her stylist was going for ‘former Party Down employee who was fired for getting stoned and falling asleep on a pile of fur coats at a graduation party for Leonard Stiltskin’s daughter‘ sort of thing. She’s like the accidental hot tub baby of Roman and Bobbie St. Brown. She also kind of reminds me of a baby model from the baby formal wear page of a Sears catalog. You know, the one where all the babies look like tiny aspiring dinner theater magicians?
But if I have to be totally honest, that baby pink mink stole would have looked so much hotter paired with a floor-length crystal-studded Bob Mackie gown. Yes, I know that it’s no longer 1979 and not everyone can be Cher or Morgan Fairchild, but what ever happened to serving up show-stopping glitz n’ glamour at the Grammys? I understand that not everyone can handle the responsibility that comes along with walking the red carpet in some top-shelf crystal-covered eleganza, but at least they could try. It’s truly a dark day when only ONE person was brave enough to pull out all the stops (no, literally – there’s definitely a construction site missing its caution markers) and arrive working some old school beauty pageant glamour.
Here’s more of Charli XCX, as well as the rest of the dull, unpolished rhinestones that rolled down the Grammy red carpet last night, including an escort-looking Lady Gaga, Kelly Osbourne in Dame Edna drag, Katy Perry in Kelly Osbourne drag, and John Mayer making me completely ashamed to say I totally would:
It’s a sad day at the Horny Chipmunk Compound; according to several sad Instagram posts, Miley Cyrus’ beloved pet blowfish Pablow has swum up (down?) to Fishy Heaven. Frankly, I wasn’t aware that Miley Cyrus even had a blowfish. But she did, and just hours after his tragic passing, she picked herself up from wherever on the floor she had collapsed into a pile of sticky icky sadness, put on her best black lace nipple veils, and went down to the Shamrock Social Club to honor Pablow’s memory with a tattoo of his likeness.
This is the second time Miley has gotten a tattoo in honor of a deceased pet, the first being the one she got of Floyd back in July. Except this time it doesn’t look like it was done using an old sewing needle and a stolen bottle of expired liquid eyeliner by a middle-aged tweaker high on home-made bath salts, so that’s nice.
I’ve been the owner of an awful lot of fishies, some of which made it to the ripe old age of 2, but I’ve never thought to get a tattoo of any of them when they died. But it’s actually a surprisingly cute tribute for someone whose funeral probably took place in a toilet. Plus, I knew nothing about Pablow The Fish, but I already love Pablow The Tattoo so much. Never have I seen a more perfectly confused “The fuck am I even doing here?” face. I bet it’s the same face the ghost of Pablow made when he saw his likeness permanently drawn on his former owner’s arm.
And Miley hasn’t released an official cause of death, but $10 that shady coyote who took out Floyd has something to do with it.
And the runner-up for Most Badass goes to TLC enthusiast Katy Perry, who is hiding behind that mess of face-obscuring purple hair. Sorry Katy, but a middle finger is still more badass than Manic Panic middle school mosh pit emo hair.
Both Katy Perry and No.1 badass Miley Cyrus were at something called the Daily Front Row Fashion Los Angeles Awards last night to celebrate their designer friend and guy who sort of looks like a human eraser-topped pencil Jeremy Scott, who was being honored with an award. And of course, those two made sure to serve up tons of high school dropout-turned-full time mallrat fuckery, because FASHION. They were also joined by Rihanna and Kanye West, who looked just so thrilled to be there. For real! Look at that smile!
I bet that’s the same face Kanye makes when he gets a text from Kim that says “Sorry kurrent husbin, kant kum 2 Paris this weeknd. Maybe u kan do sumething with Riccardo instead?” Speaking of smiling, the photographer who caught Kanye grinning must have taken this picture from behind a potted plant or a group of models signing up for Leonardo DiCaprio’s next boat cruise, because according to Kanye, Kanye never smiles in photographs. During a speech at the Daily Front Row Fashion Thingy, Kanye told the audience:
“Back when I was working on Yeezus, I saw this book from the 1800s and it was velvet-covered with brass and everything. I looked at all these people’s photos and they look so real and their outfits were incredible and they weren’t smiling and people, you know the paparazzi, always come up to me, ‘Why you not smiling?’ and I think, not smiling makes me smile. When you see paintings in an old castle, people are not smiling cause it just wouldn’t look as cool.”
They didn’t smile because it wouldn’t look as cool? Kanye, you dummy, people in old-ass castle paintings aren’t smiling because toilets weren’t invented yet and everything smelled like doo doo and people were dying from the super plague and nobody took showers. Hell, if that was my life, I wouldn’t be smiling either.
Here’s more from last night including Kanye NOT SMILING and Miley smiling all the goofy hillbilly smiles:
That might have been the most Billy Ray sentence I’ve ever written. According to TMZ, horny bag of hillbilly weed Miley Cyrus and her brother Braison (I. CAN. NOT. WITH. THAT. NAME) are keeping it in the family, dating-wise, by hooking up with another set of famous offspring. Billy Ray’s kid has been rubbing her greasy gopher bits on The Terminator’s son Patrick Schwarzenegger for the past couple of months, and I guess Miley told her younger brother Braison about all the good vittles they have at the Schwarzenegger house because he’s gone a-courtin’ Patrick’s older sister Christina.
TMZ says Cinnamon Braison Bread started seeing Christina about a month after Miley started hooking up with Patrick. They also spent New Year’s Eve together, which you know means shit is getting serious, because you always hang out with your bottom bitch on NYE. No word on how they celebrated, but he’s a Cyrus, so let’s just assume it involved a bonfire in a metal trash can and moonshine.
I’m not sure how Maria Shriver feels about two of her children hooking up with two of the Cyrus dirtpile kids, but I’m sure the Cyrus family is ecstatic that Miley and Kellogg’s Braison Bran have weaseled their way into high society. I bet Billy Ray Cyrus has already picked out his best cut-off shorts to wear when he goes swimmin’ in the cee-ment pond at the Kennedy Compound this summer. And back in his stable, Trace Cyrus is asking his sister and brother to put in a good word for him with one of Patrick and Christina’s horse-riding cousins.
This has happened before and it will happen again and again and again. And no, those aren’t an extra pair of nipple-less saggy tits. That’s her rib cage. I think.
Because Miley Cyrus won’t stop showing her chipmunk chichis until every single pair of eyeballs on this planet have seen them and we’ve all simultaneously screamed, “Okay, okay, you’re not Hannah fucking Montana anymore,” she’s naked in V Magazine. The Polaroids, which look like some creepy shit found in the FBI evidence storage room in the early 80s, were taken by her best friend/assistant/hanger-on/whatever, Cheyne Thomas, during her Bangerz World Tour. Bitches are trying to out-Uncle Terry Uncle Terry.
Miley threw up a few of these pictures on Instagram with this note:
@vmagazine exclusive #diaryofadirtyhippie order yurrrr copy nowwwww cumzzzz w ol school pull out postahhhh photography by @cheythom fuck yaaaas weez a bunch of happy hippies ova hurrrr! Muah Vfam!
Did she have a few brain aneurysms while typing that or is that just how you type when you’re raised by Billy Ray?
And you know, I’m not totally sure that these aren’t the real un-Photoshopped pictures of Justin Bieber’s Calvin Klein ads.
In case you didn’t get everything you wanted this holiday season, here’s a tasteful black and white portrait of a Henry Spencer-looking Miley Cyrus flashing her backwoods nipple bitz. It’s my gift to you; don’t say I never get you nothin’ nice.
But why is Miley topless this time? Well, a quick peek at her Instagram shows that it looks like she just discovered the Free The Nipple movement. I know – brace yourself, many more pictures of Miley’s nipples are coming. Miley posted the above picture yesterday, but it appears that it was yanked down by the pearl-clutching prudes of Instagram. That, or Miley yanked it down herself because she realized it was far too classy lookin’. After all – is it really a topless picture of a horny swamp otter if her tongue isn’t hanging out or her ass isn’t rubbing against a giant inflatable cartoon penis?
Because some of you may still have a sensitive stomach from running a 3-day train on several meat and cheese trays over the holidays, I’ve hidden Miley’s uncensored nipple pic after the cut.