Italian disco legend Giorgio Moroder (you haven’t lived until you’ve sung “Together In Electric Dreams” at karaoke) is back with Déjà Vu, his first album in 30 years, and he got a bunch of pop types (see: Kylie Minogue, Kelis, Sia and Charli XCX) to sing on it. One of those pop types is also Our Lady of Cheetos who used her ethereal hummingbird vocal cords to sing out a cover of Suzanne Vega’s “Tom Diner’s.” Somebody should have told Brit Brit to da-da DA-da da-don’t. No, Giorgio Moroder and Brit Brit’s cover of “Tom’s Diner” sounds exactly the way you’d expect it to sound. It’s very Daft Punkney. If you asked Siri to recite all the lyrics to “Tom’s Diner,” she’d sound more human than Brit Brit does.
Giorgio said that Brit Brit’s people actually came to him about being on the album. He and Brit Brit never spent time in the studio together, because they were always in different places. So she sang the track without him and then he sprinkled his magic on it afterward. It was probably a good thing that he wasn’t ever in the studio with her, because his last nerve would’ve split from her always stopping to ask questions. After singing, “And instead I pour the milk,” she’d stop and ask, “Why am I pouring the milk? Why ain’t I ordering flapjacks?” Then after singing, “Turning to the horoscope and looking for the funnies,” she stop and ask, “I like funnies, but I like cinnanun rolls better. Why am I not ordering cinnanun rolls?” She does have a point. That’s what has always bothered me about that song. Bitch is in that diner for that long and she never orders pancakes or food!
And here’s Brit Brit sounding like Rosie the Robot on Ambien and helium while singing “Tom’s Diner.”
My chihuahua is a lone pet, so he usually eats alone and that’s the way he likes it. When he has eaten around other dogs, he gets real conceited and mean. He growls and shit thinking that they’re going to steal his food. They usually couldn’t care less. I need to find out how to say, “Chill, they don’t give a fuck,. You’re not in prison in the wild,” in dog. Bonnie the chihuahua is the complete opposite of my dog.
When Bonnie’s human feeds her and her dog brother Clyde (yes, his name is Clyde and her name is Bonnie) apart, she isn’t having any of that and picks up her plate before doing the bow-legged Moonwalk over to her friend.
Bonnie IS that kind who will sit right next to you at Chipolte because she doesn’t like to eat alone. And yes, seeing a chihuahua skedaddle backwards while holding onto a plate full of food is the most talented thing you’ll see on Dlisted this year.
So now I know what it looks like when I try to hug my chihuahua and he turns into a Goth Emo kid whose mom is hugging him in front of his friends in the drop-off area at school.
At last night’s L.A. premiere of the HBO documentary Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck, Frances Bean Cobain and Courtney Love brought some Awkward Family Photos realness when they posed on the red carpet together. If John Travolta had to pose with a vagina in his mouth, he’d look happier than Frances Bean looks in these pictures. If LeAnn Rimes and Brandi Glanville were forced to pose together, they’d look happier than Frances Bean looks in these pictures. But I love these pictures. Courtney Love cleaned all the way up and looks like the Vice President’s wife on inauguration night. And Frances Bean is giving me a cross between Darlene Conner as the lead singer of a White Zombie cover band mixed and chola Lorde. They’re like a bizarro world Wednesday Addams and Marilyn from The Munsters. They’re also like every angsty goth kid circa 1990 and their mom on parent teacher conference night.
And I hope Frances Bean makes the most of this look by joining Shakespeare’s Sister.
And Monica’s immaculate grasshopper leg eyebrow situation.
Believe it or not, but I haven’t been keeping abreast (insert PriceIsRightLosingHorn here) of the state of Courteney Cox’s titty balls, so when I scrolled through these pictures of her last night, my eyeballs stretched at the sight her magnificent chichis. Courteney’s tits made an appearance at an L.A. screening for Just Before I Go, which she directed. For a while there, Courteney filled her mug with so many fillers that she looked like the spawn of Howard the Duck and Pete Burns and now that her face has settled she doesn’t look like that anymore. So what I’m saying is that this is the worst that Courteney Cox has ever looked, because who wouldn’t want to look like the spawn of Howard the Duck and Pete Burns?
Jennifer Aniston was also there last night to support Courteney’s ass. Jennifer has been hanging around her man’s best friend 4ever Terry Richardson for way too long. She’s wearing glasses that sort of look like Uncle Terry’s glasses and she’s doing his signature thumbs up pose. I hope her impersonation stopped there and she didn’t spend the rest of the night finger banging herself over people’s faces.
Pics: Getty, Splash
I’m not sure if that The Age of Adaline movie is going to be an Ambien-induced boring train wreck that should’ve premiered on a Saturday afternoon on the Hallmark Hall of Fame channel or if it’s going to be a beautifully campy train wreck (probably the former), but I’m not about to pay the $45 and an internal organ (that’s the price of a movie ticket these days, right?) to find out. Besides, I’m pretty sure that at the end of that shit we find out that the real reason why Adaline doesn’t age is because she’s actually a hollow mannequin, which explains why she has the charisma of paint chips and tap water. But anyway, the premiere for that Age of Adaline movie happened in NYC yesterday and Blake NotSoLively showed up looking like Miss Kitty’s low-rent, opium-addicted nemesis.
Blake really went for it. She mixed red, lace, feathers AND leather. If one of Johnny Weir’s more understated skating costumes bareback fucked one of Liberace’s feathered capes, 9 months later that dress would pop out. Blake looked like a Fredrick’s of Hollywood mannequin getting attacked by a pack of red Fraggles. Red lace, leather and feathers is where tacky and trashy meets. What I’m saying is that this the hottest dress that Blake NotSoLively has ever worn. The next time she gets dressed, she needs to stand in front of a mirror and ask herself, “Would RuPaul think this is too much?” If the answer is no, she needs to add more feathers and tons of fucking sequins until the answer is YES.
And here’s more of Blake at that Adaline premiere with her hot piece of a co-star Michiel Huisman.
No, that isn’t a euphemism. At something called a Cubs vs. Padres game, a foul ball magically ended up in a lady’s beer cup and she celebrated by chugging all of it. That right there is more American than a bald eagle humping Bruce Springsteen’s face. She was happy about it, but I would’ve been pissed. I would’ve screamed for a new beer since that uninvited ball made some of the sweet nectar spill out of my cup.
And I was going to throw a side-eye at her for drinking that dirty ball beer, but then I realized that booze kills germs and I’ve put much dirtier balls in my mouth before. I’m not one to judge.
This year’s Coachella has been a major snoozefest. All last weekend, I had my hands clasped together, praying for some classic Coachella fashion fuckery, like a bikini top made out of fake prayer beads and whatever it’s called when you dampen your skin and pour sand on it (raise your hands if you ever traced a peace sign on your arm in spit and covered it with playground sand in middle school), or cut-off jean shorts that are basically a denim waistband with a modesty zipper.
Thankfully, someone stepped up to the WTF plate this weekend, and that person is wealthy teenage cosmic thetan philosopher Jaden Smith. Because Jaden Smith doesn’t have to worry about bullshit like school or homework or part-time jobs, he was able to dedicate his full attention to curating (you know he uses that word) his best Coachella look, which I’m guessing by this picture is tea cozy Lana Del Rey trust fund raver toddler hedgehog. But speaking of that flower crown…I thought Jaden was supposed to be some high-fashion savant? Why in the world is he wearing a flower crown? Didn’t those things get buried in Coachella’s hipster graveyard back in 2013? Maybe he’s doing it to be ~ironic~. If so, I eagerly await the day he decides to bring back YOLO shirts and neon plastic shutter shades.
Just a few weeks after thousands of dog ear drums burst and garage door openers exploded from the high-pitched sound of the Directioners wailing over the hot one leaving the group of hollering twinks in skinny jeans that is One Direction, the hot one made his solo red carpet debut (Yes, I punched myself for typing “solo red carpet debut“) with his mom at the 5th Asian Awards in London tonight. Zayn Malik took a page out of Justin Timberlake’s post-boy band playbook by shaving all of the twinks right out of his hair, because pomade-covered big hair equals boy band and a shaved head equals serious solo artist, or something. Zayn’s shaved head is giving me three things:
1. Shaved head Britney with a beard and wild Woolly Bear Caterpillar brows.
2. The title character in Hitman if Hitman was an after-school special on Nickelodeon.
3. The look that every stoner works the day after their job announces mandatory drug testing.
If you’re in the London area and see a bunch of deranged chicks checking the dumpsters around every barber shop, don’t worry. They’re just looking for Zayn’s shaved-off locks. They want to make a crotch wig or mold a hairy dildo out of his locks. That’s all!
Open Post: Hosted By The Reason Why Thousands Of Pairs Of Star Wars Boxers Are Filled With Nerd Jizz
In case you couldn’t tell from Twitter going all DJSALKFJADSLKFJDSALK;FJDKL;ASDLKJDSJL&**JDKAJFLASDJF!!!!, a new trailer for Star Whores: The Peen Slit Awakens was released today.
It’s times like these when I really wish that I knew about a Nutty Madam-like Star Wars fan on YouTube who records themselves losing all their bodily fluids while watching this trailer for their nerd porn of choice. I really want to watch a Star Wars nerd contort his face as he releases a full body orgasm and off camera you hear the sound of his mom knocking on the door while screaming, “Allen! Allen! If you’re going to squirt, please do it on the Wee Wee pad I laid out in the corner, because I really don’t want to spend my Thursday night scrubbing dried gunk out of the carpet. You know tonight is mom’s ro-zay and Elementary night!”
This masterpiece Sizzler’s ad from 1991 is 4 minutes and 41 seconds long, and that’s about 4 minutes and 30 seconds too long when it comes to YouTube videos, but this one is worth every minute. This cinematic wonder was supposedly made to woo possible franchise owners and I’m sure everyone who watched it immediately bought a Sizzler, because this video successfully sells the dream and then some. This video should replace all “Welcome to America” signs at airports, because it completely sums up this country. We’re all about bottomless baskets of scrimps, all-you-can eat buffets, artery-clogging cheese toast, Vaseline-covered lenses, hairspray-encrusted hair and emotional theme songs. The Sizzler’s promo theme song of 1991 should be our new national anthem, because it’s that patriotic. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was written by Lee Greenwood. Put your hand over your heart and feel this:
That creepy whisper at the end really added the touch of terrifying that promo needed. Strangely enough, that ad also looks like an orientation video for my kind of cult.
And this chick is pretty much me at Sizzler:
Which explains why they usually kick me out.
GIF: Eater (Thanks to everyone who sent this in!)