That bump in Doogie’s pants. I was going to make a Neil Patrick Harris dick joke here, but I stopped myself, because it would’ve involved spilling a Gone Girl spoiler. That wouldn’t be a good thing, because the government recently announced that anybody who drops a GG spoiler will immediately be fed to a rabid pack of angry bitches who’ve got the rage in them because they read a GG spoiler online.
Expect the 2015 Oscars to be filled with a million times more musical numbers than last year, because Variety says that Neil Patrick Harris and his Stonehenge forehead of wonder will host. Practically everyone’s nipples turn into glitter cannons whenever NPH hosts anything, so this isn’t really surprising. NPH announced the news by tweeting a little skit, but he also covered all of his bases by releasing this statement of words:
“It is truly an honor and a thrill to be asked to host this year’s Academy Awards. I grew up watching the Oscars and was always in such awe of some of the greats who hosted the show. To be asked to follow in the footsteps of Johnny Carson, Billy Crystal, Ellen DeGeneres, and everyone else who had the great fortune of hosting is a bucket list dream come true.”
NPH has hosted the Emmys and the Tonys, so now he’s just a Grammy hosting gig away from a hosting EGOT. NPH is an overachieving theater kid, so if anyone can make it happen, it’s him.
If the year was 1989 again and you and I were watching an episode of Doogie Howser while sharing a Swanson’s Le Menu microwave dinner (we’re fancy like that) and you said to me, “In 25 years, Doogie’s face is going to be everywhere and you’re not going to be able to open your eyes without seeing it.” I’d tell you to stop sniffing Mr. Sketch markers, because you’ve obviously gone crazy and don’t know what you’re talking about. Vinnie Delpino’s going to be the big star.
My brain really is a dried up, crusty bathroom sponge that’s covered in shit bits and mold, because I really thought that Neil Patrick Harris (seen above looking like a malnourished Dr. Frankenstein’s monster after losing all that weight for Hedwig) and his dude of a million years David Burtka were already married and all of us already made jokes about how David’s thirty layer smug face is going to get smugger now that he’s officially Mr. Doogie Howser. But we haven’t done that, because NPH and David only recently decided to ruin their relationship by becoming husband and husband.
This morning, Neil Patrick Harris announced on his Twatter that after being together for 10 years, he and David Burtka got married in Italy on Saturday. Since gay marriage is illegal in Italy, I’m assuming that the wedding happened in Italy, but they made it legal in California or somewhere else in the US. People says that NPH’s close friend, TV director Pam Fryman, married the two and their 3 1/2 year old twins, Harper Grace and Gideon Scott, were in the ceremony. Doogie and David’s partner in yachting, Elton John, performed at the reception. No word if Vinnie Delpino was Doogie’s best man (Vinnie Delpino better have been Doogie’s best man).
Here’s Doogie’s tweet:
I thought NPH put the “d” in his husband a long time ago. I mean, how do you think they made those babies?
But really, that is a beautiful and touching picture. My favorite part of any wedding ceremony is when one solidifies their love and bond to the other by saying, “Pull my finger.”
We’ve been talking about this Gone Girl movie for so damn long that I really thought it came out months ago, whores already had a meltdown over the new ending and I finally watched it a couple of weekends ago on Starz while drunkenly channel flipping. What I’m saying is that I have the memory a a stringy piece of goldfish shit and that Gone Girl hasn’t come out yet. That shit doesn’t come out until October and Fox’s marketing department is slowly dragging out its advertising plan, because they know that every time they release one, little thing about this shit, crazy whores who loved the book will start scrapping with crazy whores who hated it. Over the weekend, they released a few evidence bag posters promoting the second trailer which came out today. Yes, they’re giving us posters for trailers now and soon there will be trailers for posters for trailers for posters for trailers for posters for trailers for posters, because anticipation is a drug.
Sadly, the second trailer doesn’t show us more of Ben Affleck running like a fat kid with diarrhea trying to get a toilet before his ass explodes, but the second trailer does show a lot more including lots of Casey Wilson, Sela Ward and Doogie Howser as the Aaron Carter to Rosamund Pike’s Hilary Duff. And Ben’s face is really punch-able in this trailer, so he did his job! But then again, when isn’t Ben’s face punch-able?
And if YT rips that trailer down, click here to see it.
“Hello, this is Mr. John Travolta. I would like to audition for the lead role of Hedwig in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I can provide my own wigs and you don’t have to pay me. I’ll pay you!” said John Travolta to the producers of Hedwig and the Angry Inch after seeing Neil Patrick Harris’ performance on the Tonys last night. Because John Travolta’s wet dream role is a role where he gets to sing, crotch thrust, work the lace front right off of a glamorous wig AND face hump and crotch grind on a hot piece without worrying about that hot piece running off to The National Enquirer.
Here’s Doogie Howser MD running around the stage of Radio City Music Hall like a Great Granny McCool in heat while performing “Sugar Daddy” (Side question: What happened to the country twang in “Sugar Daddy”???) from Hedwig at the Tonys last night. When Doogie wasn’t dry boning giant speakers and going to second base with a broken down car, he graced Orlando Bloom’s face with the tucked peen that was smushed up against his taint and stabbed Kevin Bacon’s thighs with his bony ass bones when he sat on that trick’s lap. And Doogie Howser gets paid to do that. We should all find some time in our day to call our parents and scream at them for not forcing us into show business as kids so we could grow up and star in a Broadway musical where we’d get to give Kevin Bacon a lap dance and get paid to do it.
I really wish those crazy hyenas at
Twelve Moms With No Life One Million Moms were watching, because their computers and heads probably exploded at the same time when Neil Patrick Harris gave his partner David Burtka a sloppy, wet kiss while dressed as a woman. Or those One Million Moms rubbed themselves raw to that image, because that’s the kind of outrage fuel they live for.
And here’s pictures of Doogie with his Tony Award (which he got for Best Actor in a Musical) and pictures of the other acting winners including six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald, Bryan Cranston (for his role as Walter White in Breaking Bad the Musical, I wish), Lena Hall (for Best Supporting Actress in a Musical for Hedwig), Mark Rylance (for Best Supporting Actor in a Play for Twelfth Night), James Monroe Iglehart (for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical for Aladdin), Sophie Okonedo (for Best Supporting Actress in a Play for A Raisin in the Sun) and Jessie Mueller (for Best Actress in a Musical for Beautiful: The Carole King Musical).
And at The Gay Clown Matador Grill, the meth is always grilled to perfection and the toilet is always overflowing and flooding the dining room so wear your chic-est high waters.
Neil Patrick Harris plays Hedwig 5 days a week and so last night he decided to switch Broadway shit up and dress up as the Emcee from Cabaret if the Emcee was cursed by an ancient elder gypsy for running over his daughter. DOOGIE’S FACE! Not putting carbs in his mouth and going on the Matthew McConaughey Dallas Buyers Club diet to play Hedwig has made him look like the star of a Faces of Meth poster circa 1924.
Ever since Doogie Howser and his fiancé David Burtka moved to NYC they’ve really been going for it. When they lived in L.A., they were Club Monaco-wearing gays who drove blue Audi SUVs and regularly argued in the middle of a Bristol Farms about what kind of cheese to use in the fondue for their Doris Day movie marathon party. Now that they’re living in New York, they’re bringing out the eyeliner and the hair bleach. SO NEW YORK!
And at the
Met Gala Meth Gala last night they looked like an Eastern European dueling piano duo who is currently taking Las Vegas by storm! Siegfried and Roy seethe whenever they see these two.
By the way, yes my eyeballs spent way too much on the crotch of Doogie’s man to see if he’s pitching a circus tent.
Usually Christina Hendricks uses scaffolding, two tire jacks and five rolls of duct tape to hike her magnificent chichis all the way past her face until they’re touching her eyebrows. But at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party last night, her Mount Everest titty balls weren’t suffocating and they weren’t touching God’s feet and hos probably said to her, “So that’s what your face looks like, bitch!”
Christina Hendricks’ chichi domes look magnificent when they’re squeezed up to the roof of heaven or when they look like two extra large mounds of uncooked sourdough cooling on a rack (see: above), but what in Mrs. Roper’s cleaning dress HELL is that on her body?! When I was in the 4th grade, I had a friend whose mom didn’t have money to buy her a Halloween costume, so I helped her make a witch costume using a nun’s gown I wore the year before (yes, I was a nun for Halloween in the 3rd grade, don’t ask how much shit I got for that), a black curtain panel from Ikea and black construction paper. My friend’s costume cost zero dollars, was busted as fuck and was made by two brats whose hands were shaking from eating too much candy and it still looked more luxurious and fashion forward than that shit Christina wore. That dress looks like something Endora would wear to the funeral of a whore she hated. It looks like something from the American Horror Story: Coven collection at Dress Barn.
With all that being said, Christina Hendricks, hausfrau in mourning dress and all, was still the hottest look at that VF party (no, it wasn’t), because mostly everybody else (just Kate Beckinsale) looked like the last place loser at the Miss Bolivia 1993 pageant.
When you’re a millionaire celebrity who’s vacationing in warm Mexico with your family and a bunch of hot friends, sometimes you get bored with sunning your nipples while lounging by the pool with your hot friends, so you entertain yourself by entertaining your hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers with a cute, staged pictorial about what happens when a ho who doesn’t have the booze tolerance of an Irish uncle downs the nectar of the Mexican Gods. Neil Patrick Harris did just that yesterday and he started the story off with that picture and this note:
Last day of our Mexico adventure. Let’s see just how many margaritas I can drink. Cheers!
It goes on from there and the rest is after the cut. It can also double as a visual interpretation of the fall of Lindsay Lohan’s career. If you’re currently trapped in one of the Snow Miser’s ice cold fart bubbles, keep a blowdryer handy, because you’ll want to unfreeze the frozen tears that form in your eyes as you look at NPH looking so fucking, unnaturally goddamn warm. »
As Chris Christie dealt with gay marriage going live in New Jersey at 12:01 this morning by rage eating a rolled-up extra large Domino’s Philly Cheese Steak Pizza filled with a half-dozen Awesome Blossoms while lying naked in a giant human-sized sourdough bowl full of Betty Crocker coconut pecan frosting, America’s first gay family tried to win at Halloween again.
Every year, Neil Patrick Harris, his betrothed David Burtka and their twins, Harper and Gideon, dress up as a theme for Halloween and this year they all went as characters from Alice in Wonderland. NPH Instagrammed this picture of his family Halloween’d up for a costume carnival at their kids’ preschool on Saturday.
Ice cold bitterness runs through my veins and my heart is a rotten mound of ground up bitchiness, so seeing NPH and his family look like the true definition of adorable makes barf spew out of every pore on my dead soul. We get it! You’re perfect! You’re adorable! You make the sun brighter! You make the sky bluer! You make the clouds fluffier! You make bunnies bouncier! Ugh.
I kind of want to marry a gazillionaire (because that’s so easy to do), buy the mansion across from NPH’s mansion, get a couple of kids and raise them to be bitter, dead-hearted assholes like me. Every Halloween, we’ll sit on the curb in front of our house as a family and dry heave when NPH and his perfect family come out of their perfect house in their perfect costumes being all perfect and all adorable.
Since the Cheetolings, SPF and JJ, are the true stars of Brit Brit’s music video for Smurfs 2, they showed up to the movie’s premiere at the Regency Village Theater in Westwood, CA today. The Cheetolings posed with Our Lady of Cheetos and each one of their faces is saying something different. JJ looks like he just saw your new haircut and it looks like shit but he wants you to think he’s into it. Brit Brit looks like looks like she has a severe, level 10 case of wet turtle butt and has to walk up 10 flights of stairs. (Basically, she looks the way she always looks when she’s around humans.) And SPF looks like he just saw KFed in nothing but stained boxers, white socks and Adidas sandals. Or like he’s watching Daddy Spears make grits without Velveeta. Or like he just saw Smurfs 2, etc.. etc…
And Brit Brit’s probably making that face, because she just found out that the Smurfs aren’t going to be at the premiere in person since they’re not made of actual molecules. That’s the “I just learned Santa isn’t real” face.
Here’s more of Brit Brit and the Cheetolings at today’s Smurfs 2 premiere which also brought Katy Perry, Katy Perry’s memaw, Neil Patrick Harris, Neil Patrick Harris’ family and Larry Birkhead with Dannielynn.
I usually only read a book if it was written by the Hemingway of our time, Katie Price’s ghost writer, (I’ve read all but 2 Katie Price books and even Harvey Price would be filled to the top with shame if he admitted that) but I read Gone Girl and I read it in two days. This is a shock considering that it took my ass at least three days to read Goodnight Moon. While reading Gone Girl, I pictured Goopy Paltrow as Amy (yes, my imagination hates me) and James McAvoy’s head on James Marsden’s body (if that makes sense, which it doesn’t) as Nick. So when it was announced that Ben Affleck would play Nick, my brain shat out a question mark. Ben Affleck is not Nick to me. If in the Gone Girl movie, we find out that Nick was an Easter Island statue brought to life by an evil fairy, then Ben as Nick would make sense, but other than that, noooope.
In the book, Nick’s ass is older than Amy, so I figured David Fincher, who’s directing that shit, would cast Judi Dench as Amy. That didn’t happen. The Hollywood Reporter says that former Bond Girl Rosamund Pike got the role of Amy. Apparently, Rosamund beat out Abbie Cornish, Olivia Wilde, Emily Blunt, Natalie Portman (????) and Charlize Theron. THR also says that Neil Patrick Harris and Tyler Perry are in talks for supporting roles.
At this point, the only casting that makes sense to me is Rosamund Pike. Ben Affleck, Neil Patrick Harris and Tyler Perry? The hell? I’m guessing that NPH is going to play the creepy rich man child and Tyler Perry is going to play a detective. I hope The Hollywood Reporter got it all wrong. I hope Rosamund Pike was offered a different role and Tyler Perry’s going to play Amy as Madea. Gone Madea is some shit I’d totally watch.