“Um, is that a new kind of coke? Why hasn’t my dealer told me about that one. I’ll kill him!” - LiLo
Last night, OWN shat out the trailer for their reality show, which should be called Lindsay: I’m Just Doing This For The Check (alternate title: Oprah: I’m Just Doing This For The Ratings), and it shows us Lindsay Lohan in a completely different light! By that I mean we see her in daylight. We usually see her trolling the dark streets at nighttime.
The first part shows us the broken ginger record queefing at the mouth about how she’s sick of being a drunken mess, White Oprah with her head stuck all the way up her culo, Michael Lohan being the oozing pussy pimple that he is and more of the same crap we’ve all seen and heard a million times before. The second part is The Mighty O slapping LiLo’s crackie zombie face with some truth after that mess does what she always does. Before Oprah gives it to LiLo straight, there’s a scene of her in her chariot with my favorite, Sherry Ensalada, and Sherry tells her about how Lilo has been a pain in everyone’s taint. Oprah says, “This is exactly what everybody said was going to happen and I believed differently.” Aunt Bunny, can I get GUURRRL PLEASE?! Oprah knew LiLo was going to be unreliable and she probably wanted LiLo to be unreliable, so she could sweep in and tell that mess off in front of the cameras and everyone would be like, “You tell her, Oprah! You always speak the truth, Oprah! You’re everyone’s savior, Oprah!” Oprah, YOU need to cut the bullshit. (Future headline: Skinny Fat Gay Blogger Goes Missing – A Pillar Of Salt Found In Front Of His Desk)
With all that being said, I’m still going to watch every second of this same old shit mess, because the sober coach’s down eyes followed by an, “ummmm,” when he’s asked if LiLo’s still sober SOLD ME.
And LiLo totally sold herself short when she said, “I know this is my last shot of doing what I love to do.” She still has plenty of years of stealing necklaces and slapping hos in clubs ahead of her!
My favorite tia’s name is Lupita, and so I have a special love for Lupita Nyong’o and I usually think that she could do no wrong and is the epitome of goddess. This entire awards show season, Lupita has killed hos with her elegance and I really thought there was no way she could fuck up fashion-wise. I thought that Lupita could show up to an award show with CROCs heels and a cinched Snuggie gown and we’d all get on our knees and worship her sophistication. But I learned something new today, Lupita can do wrong.
At the NAACP Awards in Pasadena, CA yesterday, Lupita showed up with Bram Stoker’s Dracula hair and a dress that looked like it was made of orange Fruit Roll-Ups, wrappers and all. She looks like a dehydrated mango slice. I shouldn’t look at Lupita and think, “Magatu’s long-lost love child, is that you, girl?” Also, that fugly dress isn’t doing good things to her chichis.
With all that being said, Lupita was still the hottest and probably best-dressed trick there. I mean, The Mighty O wore a tent dress that was designed by Coleman and Kerry Washington wore a dress that a knocked up 11th grader would wear to her junior prom. So Lupita won best dressed of the night by default.
And click here to see all the winners. ANGELA BASSETT WAS RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-BBDED!
Even The Mighty O is intrigued by this black-swan-casket-skirt-biker-shorts disaster.
The best way to wear black Spandex biker shorts is to wear them under shredded jean shorts with a Body Glove tank top and British Knights. The second best way to wear black Spandex biker shorts is to wear them under a dress that looks like an ornate gothic nightie that was scrunched up in the corner of an attic and was used as a bed by a bunch of crows. Adele Exarchopoulos knows what I’m talking about. Adele Exarchopoulos won Best Young Actor at the Critics’ Choice Awards in Santa Monica for her performance in Coochie Is The Warmest Color and she made every Academy voter fist themselves without lube for not nominating her for Best Actress. If she wore this to a third tier awards show, imagine what she would’ve worn to the OSCAHS! When dressing for the Critics’ Choice Awards, hos usually stroll to their dirty laundry basket, pick up whatever’s at the top and put it on. They do their makeup in the car. They don’t give three shits while dressing for that crap. So if Adele wore this, I’m guessing she would’ve worn a Hypercolor catsuit and Airwalk Jim heels to the Oscars.
Adele looks like she was cycling in a race when she crashed into a walking funeral procession for a fallen drag queen before landing into a bunch of black pigeons taking a nap together. It is the look. You can never go wrong with sequins and biker shorts.
Here’s more pictures from that shit last night including Jeremy Renner pinching his nipples for the photographers and Abigail Breslin looking like a 50-year-old brothel madam.
Oprah is either the world’s highest-functioning idiot or the world’s most convincing liar (ding ding ding!), because according to the NY Daily News, she was shocked – SHOCKED – that working with noted coke head/alcoholic/piece of drama-loving trash Lindsay Lohan on her $2 Million
publicity stunt reality show would end up being a wagon-full-of-fat-sized headache:
“This is just what everyone warned me would happen (working with her). And it is,” Winfrey says in a clip from the show, screened for TV critics. Winfrey can be seen seething about the troubled film star after Lohan refuses to take part in scheduled filming. Later, Winfrey says to Lohan, “My truth is, I really do want you to win … but if that isn’t what you want, I’m okay with that. I will tell these guys to pack up and leave today.” Lohan responds: “I know this is my last shot at doing what I have to do.”
Then White Oprah appeared out of nowhere yelling: “Shots? Who said shots!? Let’s celebrate your sobriety with shots! Ps – can I borrow $40,000?”
Let’s for a second play Devil’s Advocate (“Sorry, but I’ve trademarked that for myself” – Kris Jenner). Perhaps Oprah really did think she could help Blohan turn her life around. I mean, I sort of believed that The Canyons would be her comeback and she’d finally be nominated for an Academy Award; but then the ghost of Cher in Moonstruck appeared and yelled “Snap out of it!” as she slapped me across the face to remind me that Lindsay is the King Midas of turning everything she touches to shit. So I feel like it’s very possible that Oprah was convinced Lindsay had good intentions and believed she was serious about sobriet…oh, forget it. The reason was publicity. She needed the publicity, case closed.
(Pic via Oprah.com)
All of the covers and pictures for W Magazine’s The Movie Issue were taken by Juergen Teller, which means that they all look like crime scene photos from the 1970s of the pimps, john, hookers and crackheads who were all staying at a shitty motel when a low-ranking mobster was viciously stabbed to death in one of the bathrooms. Everyone (except for Lupita Nyong’o) in these pictures look like they’re the suspect in a murder case and are being interviewed by the police. Some of them look like their fear of the police is ruining their coke buzz (see: Jennifer Lawrence) and others look like they’re making a “come at me, PIGS!” face (see: Emma Thompson). And Amy Adams…. Lord, I just want to cover her with a soft blanket and give her some lukewarm hot cocoa from the vending machine, because bitch looks a wreck!
Anyway, Jennifer Lawrence is on one of the covers and W asked her about the graceful fall felt all around the world. Jennifer Lawrence obviously fell on those stairs because her huge, pink dress was the size of the head table at a quinceanera. But Jennifer says that she fell, because she was thinking about cake.
“I was at the Oscars, waiting to hear if my name was called, and I kept thinking, Cakewalk, cakewalk, cakewalk. I thought, Why is ‘cakewalk’ stuck in my head? And then, as I started to walk up the stairs and the fabric from my dress tucked under my feet, I realized my stylist had told me, ‘Kick, walk, kick, walk.’ You are supposed to kick the dress out while you walk, and I totally forgot because I was thinking about cake! And that’s why I fell.”
That quote is like charcoal fluid that fuels the Jennifer Lawrence backlash movement. Bitch is obviously lying. I mean, thought about cake right after winning a huge award? Bitch, you ain’t Kirstie Alley. Jennifer Lawrence has already been crowned America’s Newest Sweetheart, so she can quit it with the “I’m so RILL! I’m so aw-shucks-ey! I thought about cake at the Oscars!” shit. If she didn’t talk about butt plugs on Conan, I’d probably fill in an application for the Jennifer Lawrence Backlash Club. But I can’t hate a trick who openly talks about butt plugs. It’s a rule of mine.
You can see all the pics and read all the quotes from W’s The Movie Issue here. I’ve thrown in a few below. Grab the holy water before clicking on the picture of Jake Gyllenhaal looking like a diablo on meth.
The Mighty O has made it clear before that motherhood is something she never tried to reach for and she never had the urge to push a human out of her heavenly oyster. Oprah wanted other things and besides, she already tried to raise a bald asshole who constantly dribbles out lukewarm nonsense, is always crying for attention and reeks of wet shit. His name is Dr. Phil.
Oprah tells The Hollywood Reporter that if she did have her own kids, they’d be calling their team of nannies “mom” while she was off ruling the world and saving us all!
“Gayle [now a mother of two] was the kind of kid who, in seventh grade Home Ec class, was writing down her name and the names of her children. While she was having those kind of daydreams, I was having daydreams about how I could be Martin Luther King. If I had kids, my kids would hate me. They would have ended up on the equivalent of the Oprah show talking about me; because something [in my life] would have had to suffer and it would’ve probably been them.”
So, Oprah’s kids would hate her, talk shit about her and sell her out. That sounds like 50% of kids in the world and 99.9% of the kids in Hollywood. Sounds normal to me! But I get it, Oprah is the Earth’s mother, which means that we’re kind of like her kids, which means that she should expect us to call every other day crying for a loan (Note: loans from moms are on a sliding-scale, so Oprah can give us like $20 million each). And just like my real mom, she can pick up the phone, see my name, hit the ignore button and continue watching Untold Stories of the ER.
Olivia Wilde, Aziz Ansari and Zoe Saldana announced the Golden Globe nominations at the hour of the ungodly this morning and when the category of Best Supporting Actress In A Motion Picture (aka OPRAH’S CATEGORY!) came up, they looked at Jennifer Lawrence and said, “You get a nomination,” they looked at Lupita Nyong’o and said, “And you get a nomination,” they looked at Oprah…and they kept moving. No nomination for Oprah! This is an unholy act against God. The Illuminati must be behind this…
Just like it’s a given that I’ll probably start my morning by silently weeping while sit down peeing, it was a given that The Mighty O would get a Best Supporting Actress nomination for The Butler and some hos thought that there was a kind of sort of chance that she’d beat Jennifer Lawrence and Lupita Nyong’o. But now that’s not going to happen. The organizers of that dark-sided event better buy more cases of champagne, because Oprah will not be there to turn all the goblets of tap water into flutes of Cristal. But I bet Gayle King’s loins are quivering something extra today, because she loves it when her boo gets the rage.
As for the other nominations, Fruitvale Station got shit, American Hustle is considered a comedy (which sort of makes sense since this is a work of comedic genius) and Angela Bassett was ROBBED! The GG voters obviously didn’t see Angela Bassett’s “fat ass cracker bitch” rant on AHS: Coven or she would’ve been the only name in that category. But Hayden Panatroll got nominated for Nashville (cut to me clapping and cheering all by myself since I might be the only ho that proudly watches that shit), Tatiana Maslany got nominated and more importantly, the Golden Globes recognized this thing of pure, natural, potent beauty:
Oprah is having a rummage sale in Santa Barbara. On polo grounds in three giant tents. After de-cluttering her homes in Hawaii, Indiana and California, among others. This ain’t your mama’s sit-outside-for-three-days-to-make-$38-yard-sale.
She told Entertainment Tonight (via People) that she’s been accumulating things since 1985 and that proceeds from in person and online sales will benefit the Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy Foundation College Fund, which is dedicated to helping graduates of The Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy for Girls — South Africa attend colleges and universities around the world.
“It’s just too much stuff. I talk about it a lot in [O] the magazine. We talk about decluttering. And I realized, I need to declutter my own life. It is very freeing. I am downsizing.”
Autographed electric scooters? Check. A 19th-century doll, expected to go for up to $8,000? Check. A Louis XVI chest of drawers, perhaps the priciest item, worth up to $50,000? Check.
In fact, there are lots of dolls for sale.“People come to stay with me, and they say they get scared with all the dolls,” Winfrey says.“You wake up, and there’s like 12 dolls staring at you.”
Not that it’s easy for her to let go of some of this stuff. But for Winfrey, it’s about practicing what she preaches.
“I’m trying not to be attached to things,” she says. “I’m trying to live the life that I talk about, like not letting things define you. But it’s hard.”
I guess it was too much to hope that Oprah would have just a regular yard sale like us commoners. I’d love to see that Louis XVI chest shoved against a card table filled with mismatched Tupperware and Christmas platters that would get passed over at Goodwill, with one of those fluorescent pink dot stickers on it as the price tag. The dolls thrown in a plastic bin, missing a shoe here and with a “look, Mommy, I made her prettier!” lopsided haircut there. I can’t even fathom why she would have autographed electric scooters or who they belonged to but I already threw up a prayer for this one.
All I know is that somewhere, Nicolas Cage is being held in a basement against his will so he can’t add a bronzed strap-on that used to belong to Gayle King to his collection of weird shit that gave him the poors.
Anyone really hell-bent on owning a piece of Oprah (which is only fair since she’s been stealing people’s souls and wills to live for years), could also bid online after purchasing a color catalog for $50, which graciously includes shipping. I’d rather take $50 to the garage sale around the corner to score a taxidermied, wall-mounted badger to give my mother-in-law as the gift that will keep on giving, if last year’s stocking stuffer of deer pee that went over like a fart in church is any indication.
When Jenny McCarthy isn’t busy pissing people off over vaccinations, trash talking Jim Carrey, alienating the last the three people still watching “The View” and making Gucci somehow look low rent, she managed to get her try-hardy ass on Oprah’s shit list according to an interview she did with Andy Cohen on “Watch What Happens Live “(via USWeekly).
She explained that she had a falling out with the mega-mogul, 59, after a tentative deal — McCarthy was to have a talk show on Winfrey’s OWN network — apparently fell through. “I did a deal with her for five years, but we, we kinda shook hands. I would be scared she would beat me up,” McCarthy revealed.
When Bravo’s Cohen asked McCarthy to clarify what happened with the the deal, she confirmed that “It didn’t [work out],” suggesting that she walked away to pursue other interests. “I left. I am terrified . . . I would be like OH NO [if we ran into each other].”
“Do you think you’re on her ‘list’?” Cohen asked.
“I’m sure there’s probably a lot of people on her sh*t list, but I’m probably number 4,” McCarthy estimated.
Knowing Oprah, numbers one through three are- in no particular order- James Frey, Steadman’s penis and anybody on her staff who dares suggest catering bring in low-fat muffins. Any number of things could be put in the fourth slot (cue stomachs everywhere churning over anything having to do with “Oprah” and “slot”), but Jenny seems to be convinced if they ever crossed paths again, Oprah would start screaming, “YOU GET AN ASS BEATING. AND YOU GET AN ASS BEATING. AND EVERYBODY GETS AN ASS BEATING!” while the audience collectively loses their shit. Jenny at least had the common sense to back out before jumping on the OWN network, which Oprah herself has admitted hadn’t lived up to the hype and caused her to dive headfirst into the sads.
Oprah told People magazine she had a meltdown last summer because “people were counting me out… After 25 years of being No. 1, I had become accustomed to success. I didn’t expect failure. I was tested and I had to dig deep.” She said “the schadenfreude was very painful for me, because I had never experienced it. I thought, ‘Do I not get credit for the 25 years? What have I gotten myself into?’”
If only Jenny had read some of the reviews when Barbara Walters came knocking on her door as a replacement for Elisabeth Hasselcrack on “The View”, housewives wouldn’t live in fear of hearing any more information about Donnie Wahlberg’s ass or how he likes to jerk it on those ridiculous glasses she wears. You know Jenny’s the type who would demand every Lens Crafters employee stop what they’re doing as she tries on every oversized frame reserved for hot chicks with crippling self-esteem issues asking, “But would you fuck me??“
Because we’re still treating that VMAs twerking shit like it’s the only thing that has ever happened in the history of the Earth (yes, I’m guilty and will punish myself by watching it again in slow motion while sober), The Mighty Oprah asked Alan Thicke’s son about it during Sunday’s episode of Oprah’s Next Chapter. Even though there were rehearsals and Robin Thicke obviously knew that Miley’s Amber Alert ass was going to rub up against his crotch, he played innocent and said that he wasn’t really paying attention to her during their performance.
“That’s all on her. People ask me, ‘Do you twerk?’ I’m like, ‘Listen, I’m the twerkee. I’m twerked upon. I don’t twerk myself, okay? I’m just twerked upon.’
I was on stage. I didn’t see it. So to me, I’m walking out towards Miley [and] I’m not thinking sex. I’m thinking fun, you know? I mean her and I don’t have that kind of – You have to remember, I’m singing my butt off. I’m sitting there. I’m looking up at the sky, and I’m not really paying attention to all that.”
The inside of Robin Thicke’s head probably looks a lot like my browser history: porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, puppy videos, porn, porn, porn, porn, directions to nearest Del Taco, porn, porn, porn. Replace “puppy videos” and “directions to nearest Del Taco” with “Adult Friend Finder” and “70spimpsuits.com,” and that’s exactly what the inside of Robin Thicke’s head looks like. So he’s full of shit for saying that he wasn’t thinking about sex while singing a song about sex, because he’s always thinking about sex. Robin’s crotch was to Miley Cyrus’ ass as Janet Jackson’s nipple was to Justin Timberlake’s paw. That fuckery train had two conductors.
And I’m not going to watch Oprah’s Next Chapter on Sunday, because I love my TV too much and I’d have to take a sledgehammer to it if Oprah attempted to twerk on Robin’s crotch.
Here’s Robin doing an impersonation of all of the Nymphomaniac posters while performing in Liverpool last night.