Shortly after Michael Strahan announced that he was taking the Michael out of Live! with Kelly and Michael and taking it over to Good Morning America, there were whispers that ABC had already drafted up a short list of replacements for him. Two names that were being thrown around were Anderson Cooper and Neil Patrick Harris, because I guess ABC was really feeling the idea of replacing Michael with a blue-eyed gay dreamboat.
But it sounds like ABC might want to think about throwing some lady names on that list too, because there could be a chance they’ll be replacing Kelly Ripa as well. A source tells UsWeekly that Kelly really wants Michael to be replaced by either Anderson Cooper (whose book she was not-so-subtly seen carrying around yesterday) or Andy Cohen. The source claims that if ABC doesn’t hire one Kelly’s choices to sit beside her, she’s thinking about leaving. And not in the “Bye bitches, see you in a couple days” way either. According to said source, Kelly is still a little pissed about the way things were handled with Michael that she’s ready to put in her permanent walking papers unless she gets her way. But wait, Kelly told us yesterday that everything is fine! I just don’t know what to believe anymore.
Kelly isn’t exactly reaching for a box to pack up her things just yet. ABC is still deciding who they want. They’re also apparently adding more names to the list. According to UsWeekly, they’re also considering Jerry O’Connell. But it doesn’t look good for Kelly. Anderson is currently busy covering the election, and Andy is under contract with Bravo for Watch What Happens Live. I guess if Kelly does end up quitting, that would give Disney a good excuse to pull the plug on Live! and give GMA that third hour they’ve been rumored to be looking at. Hmmm…how convenient for you, Disney.
I understand wanting to work with your friends, but this is all a tad dramatic. Would it honestly be so unbearable to make morning show small talk with Neil Patrick Harris while your bank account gets stuffed with millions of dollars? Hell, if the price was right, I’m sure NPH would throw a little silver in his hair if that’s what will do it for Kelly.
I believe that smile on Neil Patrick Harris’ face is the wordless equivalent to Gob Bluth’s “I’ve made a huge mistake.” Even though Neil Patrick Harris is a charming high-energy singing dancing machine that was built in a handsome showbiz robot factory, hosting the Oscars this year apparently really drained his battery and wore down his entertainment processor and he doesn’t think he can do it again. During a recent interview with HuffPo, Doogie Howser admitted that unless they upgrade his circuitry, he probably won’t be back to host the Oscars for a second time:
“I don’t know that my family nor my soul could take it. It’s a beast. It was fun to check off the list, but for the amount of time spent and the understandable opinionated response, I don’t know that it’s a delightful balance to do every year or even again.”
“It’s so difficult for one who’s simply watching the show to realize just how much time and concession and compromise and explanation has gone into almost every single thing…And I’m not saying that to defend everything I said as if it was the absolute best choice, but it’s also an award show, and you’re powering through 14 acts filled with 20 plus awards. So my job was to try and keep things as light and specific to this year’s set of films as possible. And if people are critical of that, it’s a big giant platform, so I would assume that they would be.”
It doesn’t really matter what famous type is hosting, people at home will hate it, because the Oscars are 4 hours long and boring as hell. And if you want someone to watch Neil Patrick Harris sing and dance for 4 hours, you gotta make it worth it; for example, give NPH a sidekick, like that entertaining bitch Purin the Beagle. And then replacing NPH with a talented cat. There, problem solved!
Doogie Howser took a break from giggling at his own jokes while hosting the Oscars tonight to say “fuckit” and get down to his panties while doing a Birdman bit, because he knows what the people watching (read: stoned straight chicks and drunks gays) want! YES! This is what I want from the Oscars. Screw those boring ass gowns and basic tuxedos. Make everyone get down to their panties and by everyone I mean only Chris Pine, The Rock, Idris Elba, David Oyelowo and (insert any other hot piece I might have forgotten because all the booze I guzzled has drowned out my sense of short memory).
And it’s really nice to know that the ball of rolled-up socks that Justin Bieber stuck in his Calvin Klein underwear got another job.
Pics: Getty, Wenn.com
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.