The only reason the sun shines in Sochi is to make the sequins on Johnny Weir’s body sparkle. Loki’s half-brother who calls Pee-wee Herman his father continued to show us what Judy Garland would’ve dressed like if she was still alive today.
At the Olympics today, the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice showed up looking like a disco ball’s tampon. Samson & Delilah, Romeo & Juliet, Cynthia Nixon & Rojo Caliente, Kanye & Kanye, John Travolta’s Scientolohole & massage therapist dick and cookie spread & my mouth are just some of the soulmates in history that are meant to be together. You can add Johnny Weir & sequins to that list.
And this classic moment is obligatory:
It’s Monday so you probably woke up this morning with the hungover demons possessing your body, your breath smelling like Sunday night sangria and your eyeballs covered in crusties. You probably considered just never getting out of bed ever, because is a regular paycheck really worth getting up in the morning on a Monday? But you pulled yourself out, injected caffeine into your eyeballs, put on some clean panties and made it through the day by playing that Flappy Bird shit in your cubicle. We all made it through the day without murdering anyone (I think) or checking into the hospital because our bodies turned into a giant raisin from crying at the bottom of a hot shower for a few hours straight. Let’s all celebrate with this picture from W Magazine of Joe Manganiello with morning wood eyes. Or maybe he’s saying, “How about an early morning salad tossing? You do me first” with his eyes.
Photographers Mert and Marcus shot a bunch of famous hos in bed for W Magazine and some of them will give your genitals the sweats (see: Joe ManJello, STAINS’ human brother Jonathan Rhys Meyers and David Gandy) and some will make your b-hole poot out a “meh” (see: Vanessa Hudgens and that busted wig on her head and Kanye’s cuddle boo Riccardo Tisci).
And to answer the question in your head, no, it’s not weird at all to have that top picture turned into a body pillow with holes in it. That’s actually totally natural and not-at-all-crazy or creepy. Just make sure you get it in stain-resistant fabric like I did.
Shakira and RiRi’s song “Can’t Remember To Forget You” (which is what I’ll be saying later when I still have this wreck of a song stuck in my head) is a direct assault on eardrums and it sounds like two rabid goats fighting over an apple, but if you’re into two pop tricks rubbing each other’s magnificent nalgitas and lezzing it up for the camera, then the video makes up for the song.
Joseph Kahn, who directed this, probably told them to pretend like they’re two cats in heat who just got attacked by billions of fleas, because they’re scratching their asses against the wall and writhing on a mattress like they need the Q-tip and a flea bath at the same time. Nomi Malone and Cristal Conners will always be the reigning Queens of fake lesbian-on-fake lesbian action, but Shakira and RiRi tried to come for their throne.
I am all for pop chicks selling it hard by dry humping on each other (see: Madge & Brit Brit, Madge & Miley, Madge & Xtina, Madge & everybody, etc….), but when are we going to finally get two pop dudes selling it to the gay gaze by grabbing on each other. And no, the Biebs and Usher don’t count.
Before Chris Hemsworth got to swing around his rock hard hammer as Thor, every single white dude with a SAG card auditioned for that role including Tumblr’s second husband Tom Hiddleston. On the Thor: The Dark World DVD, which comes out next month, the bonuses include Tom’s Thor audition and CBM posted two GIFs from it. This is the reason why Tumblr’s clit hasn’t stopped shaking since this morning. The GIFs are after the cut and if you haven’t seen them already, prepare your eyes, loins, no-no and soul for Tom’s golden Jesus locks and his “Raise Your Hammer If You’re Sure” moves.
Nothing will make you dip your entire face in boiled holy water and file a complaint with every human rights organization like Miley Cyrus’ video for “Wrecking Ball,” but Ron Jeremy comes close. If the world was a perfect place where only right things happened, future “Wrecking Ball” parodies would’ve been labeled illegal after Hot Slut of my life La Vampy murdered, butchered and buried the parody game. But it isn’t a perfect world and it is full of NOT RIGHTS (see: me eating almost healthy, I did eat two spoonfuls of cookie butter, yesterday and not immediately losing the globe of bloat in my gut), so The Hedgehog did his own extremely timely, shot-by-shot remake of that mess.
If staring at Ron Jeremy’s beef-stuffed salchicha rolling around in white chonies doesn’t make you want to take a mental health day, then him titty fucking the wooden sledgehammer handle will. And Ron’s hernia kind of looks like an alien fetus crawling out of his belly button. He should really put a barber shop quartet hat on it.
And a long skid mark would’ve made this ART.
And three seconds later, that tundra of ice and snow melted and ASkars floated along a new ocean on that floating toilet. This is the real global warming.
This picture of Alexander Skarsgard sitting on a square toilet while reading a True Blood script in the South Pole was shat up on Instagram last night and I’ve already printed it, framed it and hung it in front of my own toilet. I’ve hung it right next to the picture of the vampire nordic demi-god lounging naked in the Arctic on the TB season finale. This beautiful portrait was taken after ASkars and his Walking with the Wounded team made it to the South Pole. I’m guessing that ASkars cleaned his dirty ass by scooting along the snow Toby-style. And even though ASkars is sitting on a toilet and wearing what I thought were super puffy UGGs, I still would. (NO SCAT QUEEN.)
My Bow makes my dick hard every time I smile…is that normal? pic.twitter.com/AI6k9TOGmu
— Idris Elba (@idriselba) January 5, 2014
And if you don’t celebrate Christmas, then Prince Hot Ginge’s piping hot beard would like to wish you a Merry Wednesday!
But if you do celebrate the day we all get each other gift cards to Bed, Bath and Beyond, because we just CAN’T with shopping, then you might be drunk from guzzling down gallons of sweet nectar and processed sugar to deal with spending a full day indoors with your family. Grab another bottle, sit back and roast your chestnuts on the open fire growing on Prince Hot Ginge’s beautiful face. That ginger neck beard could give Lucifer the sweats.
PHG, Prince William, Duchess Kate, Prince Charles, Princess Beatrice, Duchess Cumilla, some other royal whores and THE QUEEN all took their asses to The Church of St Mary Magdalene for Christmas Day service today. Little Prince George didn’t come, because Prince Philip was there, so they already had a baldie who’d fall asleep, cry out of boredom, slobber and fart. They didn’t need two.
And seeing Prince William touch Prince Hot Ginge’s glorious, luscious hairy beard of fire makes me think to myself, “Prince William’s finger: I’d hit it until his nail popped off.”
Pics: AP, Splash
The shitty, shitty news (for me) is that I didn’t even come close to winning third place in MegaMillions, so I am not typing this post on a yellow diamond-encrusted MacBook Air on a bed stuffed with Prince Hot Ginge’s beard and pube hairs as a topless Anderson Cooper look-alike feeds me a rare Hostess Vanilla Pudding Pie. The good news for all of us who actually bought a ticket even though there’s a bigger chance of The Difficult Brown going to jail than us winning, the universe gave us a consolation prize: Hugh JackMeOff’s hairy nipples! It’s always a good day when my eyes land on Hugh’s torso fur, because it’s kind of shaped like a pencil dick with a mushroom head.
And does anybody have Duck Dynasty Phil’s P.O. Box address, because I really want to send him my holiday card, which is a picture of Hugh diving into a sea of man anuses.
I’ve never had the urge to join a cult, because the wardrobe is usually busted, they usually have a curfew, they usually don’t have an open bar, you’re always around people and call me an old-fashioned bitch, but offing myself with dozens of other people is not the way I want to go out. But I’d totally sell all my shit and put on a fugly tracksuit to join a cult where ASkars is the leader and he silently walks around topless with a tattered, used and abused blond wig on his head.
ASkars pulled his season 1 Vampire Eric wig out of storage, quickly shook the dust out of it and slapped it on his head to star in Cut Copy’s video for “Free Your Mind” (which sadly isn’t a cover of the En Vogue song).
Let’s see, a cult where you get to give ASkars a foot bath (dude won’t care if you switch that rag for your tongue or moist fuck parts), play basketball with him and a Santa Claus Jesus, get kissed on the forehead by him while you’re standing in a pool, watch him tame a dog with his mighty (it’s not mighty at all) bark, measure the strength of his piss stream, stare at him while you’re humping another cult member, randomly make out with him in the kitchen and then watch his saggy chonies sway back and forth as he runs away into the darkness. This is my kind of cult!
Goodbye, family and free will. Hello, ugly tracksuit!