Stephen Amell of Arrow and Jared PatAndLickMe of Supernatural got topless this past weekend to raise straight lady clits and gay dicks. They also did it to raise awareness for Jared’s charity campaign Always Keep Fighting, which supports people struggling with depression. Well, Stephen Amell’s nipples do have the power to bring some of us out of the sads for a minute, so I’m sure it’s working.
Always Keep Fighting is selling t-shirts and I guess Jared knows that there’s no better way to promote that shit than to get topless with the Green Arrow. They posted these pictures on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook and added the note:
Stephen Amell and I lost our shirts frown emoticon Maybe we should grab one from the represent.com/Jared relaunch!!! Only 2 days!!!!
I cannot wait to see the picture they post when Always Keep Fighting starts selling chonies.
When I was a kid, I was in the hospital a couple times, and all of them were pretty shitty. One time I was in a hospital that only served lemon Jell-O (sick). Another time I peed on the floor because I was too weak to pull my IV pole to the bathroom. Then my nurse came in, saw the piss, got mad, and turned off the TV as punishment (which was a next-level bitch move, because I was already 45 minutes deep into a Back to the Future marathon).
What I’m trying to get at is that being a kid in the hospital sucks, but the ladies from the all-lady Ghostbusters reboot/remake/whatever made it a little bit better by visiting the Floating Hospital for Children at Tufts Medical Center on Saturday. E! says that Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Leslie Jones, Kate McKinnon showed up in their Ghostbusters costumes and spent the day visiting with patients. Of course, some assholes are still salty about the all-lady Ghostbusters, and so they ripped a bunch of anger-scented internet farts on the pictures Tufts posted to their Facebook page from the visit. Tufts then swatted back by posting a Facebook note saying that they’d be yanking down any “profanity.”
All the “profanity” has since been deleted, so we don’t really know what was said. But if I had to guess, I’m sure one of the comments was from a user named J. Bieber that said: “When the fuck did I hang out with three of the lady Ghostbusters?”
I’ve been told that my sneezes could bring a trick out of a coma from 10,000 miles away and that my sneezes should come with a government warning. But my sneezes have absolutely nothing on the sneeze this little ball of white fluff from Louisiana sneezed out. Roux, who has an Instagram page because what Pomeranian doesn’t, was caught on camera blowing out a sneeze that is bigger than him. You know it’s going to be the kind of sneeze that’ll leave a mark on the walls, because he prepares by doing that pre-sneeze head bob and then he lets it blow.
So many times when you sneeze, you think to yourself, “All that build-up for that anti-climactic shit?” But that wasn’t one of those sneezes. Roux probably had a cigarette and a Calgon bath after that one.
Seriously, Roux’s Curly from The Three Stooges impression is spot-on and now I really want to hear him say “soitenly!”
via Boing Boing
If Disney bought the rights to every Alfred Hitchcock film, this is what they’re crossover movie of Dumbo and The Birds would look like. This video of a baby elephant frolicking amongst the swallows was filmed at Kruger National Park in South Africa and it’s gone viral, because sometimes the world can be a chunky diarrhea puddle of a place and we all need some awww-ness to take us away. My weed box is empty, so this video has been my very temporary stress reliever for the past 2 days. Speaking of, this is probably what most of us looked like when we danced while high on the good shit for the first time:
(And keep YOU. KNOW. WHO. away from this baby elephant.)
Artist Daniel Edwards, the Michelangelo of pure fuckery, is back and is once again burning our brains with his art. Daniel is the HIGH ART mastermind who melted our eyeballs with his Britney Spears birthing statute, his OctoMom butt plug, his Brangeloonie monument and so on and so on…
Daniel’s latest work is a Scientology shroud of the cult’s reigning empress Tommy Girl in all his naked glory. My eyes don’t know whether to burn from that boy band hair or from his dick and balls looking like a ram head door knocker. E! News says that to “celebrate” Tommy’s 25 years with Scientology, Daniel worked with the Cory Allen Contemporary Art in St. Petersburg, FL to create the shroud and some commemorative coins. A press release says that the shroud and the coins will be on display at a “pop-up of the Church of Scientology” near Scientology’s headquarters in Clearwater, FL. Both Tommy and Scientology had nothing to do with this messiness and you can tell, because if they did, his already exaggerated dick and balls would be bigger, he’d be five feet taller, David Miscavige’s lips would be on that ass and dozens of Scientology slave boys would be worshiping at his feet.
Even though Tommy had nothing to do with the making of that shit, Daniel Edwards shouldn’t be surprised if he receives a mysterious phone call from someone asking him to make a life-sized rubber sculpture of that shroud and to please put a pre-lubed hole in between the ass cheeks. The caller will tell Daniel that he can put the order under the name “Jack Hunt.”
Sadly, there aren’t any new pictures of Phoebe Price posing bottomless while straddling a Bob’s Big Boy statue in Burbank somewhere. So we’ll all have to settle for this video of Peanut Butter, the corgi puppy, redefining the meaning of “struggle” while trying to go down a flight of carpeted stairs. Peanut Butter whimpers, throws a blue side-eye, whimpers some more and nearly eats it while trying to go down the stairs. This video is pretty much a dramatic interpretation of all of our lives. Aren’t we all just a corgi puppy trying to make our way down the stairs of life? (Although, I’m more of a drunk corgi puppy throwing himself down the stairs.)
SPOILER ALERT: Peanut Butter doesn’t make it down the stairs. He stops, barks and throws a look that clearly says, “Fuck this, you savage. Get me a doggy elevator already.”
If you tried to go to dinner at a restaurant in L.A. last night and were told that the place was closed temporarily due to a massive flood of jizz, coochie slobber, nipple nectar and drool, you now know why. Phoebe Price had lunch at that same restaurant and caused dozens of peens, chochas, nipples and mouths to leak when she opened up her blazer and revealed her freckled cornish game hen chichis stuffed into an extremely sophisticated pasties bra thing. This look is very “Madonna in the Express Yourself video” meets five hundred layers of extra pure elegance.
In the past month alone, Chicken Cutlets has posed on the street with her nalgas out and has almost flashed her precious vagine in a Comic-Con photo shoot. So we’re probably just a few days away from her going full modest by posing naked and spread-eagle in front of a Pinkberry. The earth’s core will melt from the understated beauty of it all.
And someone should really call the ASPCA on PP, because it’s obvious that her dog Henry is almost suffering from heatstroke from being hit with the rays of hotness that are shooting off of her body. It’s like lying on the sun, if the sun smelled like grilled chicken, foundation and freshly bloomed ginger roses.
I also threw in pictures from this morning of the Queen of the Ho stroll meeting the former Jokers of the Ho Stroll, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt. It is so charitable of PP to share her ho stroll photo shoots with those less famous than her. St. Chicken Cutlets, she is.
When I first saw these pictures in thumbnail size on the photo agency’s website, I thought it was Chaz Dean, the hairstyling adonis from Flipping Out on Bravo. That is the ultimate compliment. Mistaking someone for Chaz Dean is like mistaking someone’s artwork for a Thomas Kinkade painting or mistaking someone’s song for a Stacey Q song or mistaking someone’s outfit as a vintage outfit from Contempo Casuals. There is no higher compliment.
Mickey Rourke left lunch in L.A. the other day and he looked like the Mona Lisa of the Excuse My Beauty Museum. Mickey looked like a beach hobo who majorly lost a fight against a bottle of Sun-In and a Flowbee, and that really IS the look. Mickey is seriously setting trends and I have a feeling that soon everybody will be wearing a pair of old lady sunglasses from Loehmann’s over electrocuted Fashionista Ken doll hair.
I know, you’re like “What bat?“, because you’re too busy staring at that disgusting dirty drawn-on middle finger on Johnny Depp’s hand. Seriously, what is going on there. Wait – you know what? I don’t actually want to know. Sometimes it’s best not to know how the sausage is made.
Johnny Depp is still down in Australia filming Pirates of the Caribbean 47, and earlier this week he decided to drop by the Australian Bat Clinic & Wildlife Trauma Centre dressed as Jack Sparrow to feed a tiny orphaned bat named – wait for it – Jackie Sparrow. Look at lil’ Jackie Sparrow, all snuggled up in her tiny green bat blankie, drinking her bat milk, praying that a crusty chunk of whatever is trapped under Johnny Depp’s chunky silver hobo rings doesn’t wiggle loose and accidentally fall into her baby bat mouth. So cute. The ABC also has a very adorable picture of Johnny Depp’s bat looking all sleepy with a pacifier in its mouth on their Facebook page, in the event you haven’t gotten your “Awwwww” of the day yet.
Normally Johnny Depp in Jack Sparrow drag gives me the heaves like you wouldn’t believe, but there’s something weirdly soothing and relaxing about watching Johnny Depp talking bats while feeding a hungry jalapeno popper-sized bat.
Calgon Johnny Depp feeding a bat, take me away!
When I was a kid, I used to watch this show called called Harriet’s Magic Hats, and it was about a chick who could teleport to different jobs by putting on a hat from her aunt’s magical hat trunk. Yes, you can go ahead and file this under: “WTF-level television from 1980s Canada” along with ASTAR. Harriet’s niece would always pick something boring, like a hat from a sleep apnea clinic or something, and she’d magically appear at that job. It was literally like watching a low-budget TV show about career day, but with a dangerous disregard for the laws of physics.
Anyway, when I saw these pictures of Boy George performing with Culture Club at the Greek Theater on Friday night in a variety of gorgeously ostentatious hats, it made me wish Boy George had access to Harriet’s magical hat trunk. I don’t even know what kind of jobs Boy George’s hats would transport me to, but I want to go to all of them. Although if I had to guess, I’d say most of them would lead to wherever a sexy robot drag queen showgirl from the year 2109 works. And really, what couldn’t you learn from job shadowing a sexy robotic drag queen showgirl? Exactly.