Two days after Prince Hot Ginge confirmed that he’s full-time doing Meghan Markle and asked the tabloids to stop being a mess, he sashayed before his subjects in his uniform at Westminster Abbey’s Field of Remembrance. The Telegraph says that PHG wore his hot Household Division frock coat while laying small wooden crosses in memory of those who died while fighting for Britain. PHG was there with his grandaddy Prince Philip. And I’m sure Prince Philip kept shushing the disrespectful tricks who wouldn’t stop cooing while watching PHG walk in those cha cha heels. If I was there and Prince Philip snapped at me to stop howling, I’d have to tell him it’s not my mouth howling, it’s my b-hole and I can’t control that.
UsWeekly says that PHG’s American girlfriend Meghan Markle is in London right now. She’s on a short hiatus from her show Suits. The source says she’s staying at PHG’s place at Kensington Palace. The source also dribbled out this eye roll-inducing stream of pure sap:
“Meghan was able to find time to visit Harry. It won’t be a long visit as they both have packed schedules, but they’re always so happy to be together. They have so much in common. You can’t not fall in love with them as a couple after spending time around them together.”
Once I finished dry heaving over the cheesiness of that last line, I realized something. If Meghan is there right now, then she was probably at his place when he came home… in uniform. So she probably got to do him while he kept his hat and cha cha heels on, and as Up Where We Belong played in the background. She’s living a fanfic dream, only it’s real. Damn her!
Because Mondays are grosser than that mocos tissue your frugal abuelita used until no clean spots were available (What? Just mine?), here’s some wet man nipples to make it a little less grosser.
Ellen DeGeneres called in sick to her show and so the producers pulled out a list of possible substitutes. Every single person, animal, plant and inanimate object on that list must’ve been busy, because they settled for Miley Cyrus. I mean, Billy Ray Cyrus’ half-eaten Taco Party Pack would’ve made a better host. But Miley’s episode wasn’t that awful and that’s solely because of the wet nipples belonging to Milo Ventimigilia. (Fun fact: Ventimiglia is Italian for “large Starbucks cup of man hotness.“)
Milo has already said that he doesn’t mind that millions of eyeballs have scooped up a piece of bare nalgas, so of course he didn’t mind taking his top off for the sake of charity on
Ellen Miley. Starting at the 3:43 mark, Milo and Miley (which sounds like the name of the most annoying kid’s show on the Disney Channel) play that game where he gets half-naked and sits in a splash tank while she tries to get him wet with pink balls. Ellen gets a celebrity dude half-naked every year to raise money for breast cancer research.
And I think the cherry on top of this panty creaming sundae (Why did I write that?) is the stache that Milo’s been working for a minute, because it makes him look like the star of an early-80s porn parody of Magnum P.I. called Magnum P.I. (Penis Investigator).
Pic: Warner Bros.
The third and final movie in the Fifty Shades series called Fifty Shits Freed is still shooting, and yesterday wet piece of cardboard Dakota Johnson and chiseled wooden block Jamie Dornan got into their swim chonies to shoot a beach scene in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, France.
I’ve only read about 25 pages of the first book and I haven’t read the other two, because if I want to put my eyes on dumb raunch and trash, I’d read my own blog posts. So I have no idea if there’s a scene in Fifty Shits Freed where that Christian Grey dude and that Anastasia chick go on a beach vacation and decide to try to fit in with the tourists so she buys a shit-fitting, factory-defective bikini from the J. Crew outlet and he buys swim trunks from L.L. Bean. That would explain what they’re wearing.
Everyone always says that Hollywood is ran by Jewish men and gay men, but the latter is obviously not true. Because Alexander Skarsgard doesn’t wear a crotch flap in The Legend of Tarzan, and Jamie Dornan wears baggy dad trunks in this Fifty Shits wreck. Besides, Christian Grey is a billionaire and everyone knows that when billionaires go to the beach, they wear this (but one made out of actual $100 bills):
See, this is why the Fifty Shits books and movies can’t be taken seriously. They’re so not realistic!
Pics: Splash, Budgy Smuggler
What better way is there to end another week of surviving life than by resting your eyeballs on this picture of a drenched Alexander Skarsgard looking all vulnerable-like while throwing you fuck me eyes? Okay, a better way to end another week of surviving life would be to walk into your apartment to find a naked and lubed-up ASkars lounging on your sofa with an Entenmann’s Devil’s Food Cake in one hand and a winning Powerball ticket in the other, but this is second! Okay, actually second is walking out of your job and finding a naked and lubed-up ASkars sitting in a car that will take you both to the Cheesecake Factory where you won’t have to wait for 6 hours because he knows people. But this is third!
39-year-old ASkars and 25-year-old (in Catherine Zeta-Jones years, allegedly) Margot Robbie did a spread in Vogue to promote that loincloth-less Tarzan movie. I have two things to say about this spread:
1. On the cover, it looks like they used a Snapchat filter to put Emma Stone’s face on top of Margot Robbie’s face.
2. While I appreciate that the Dark Priestess of Fashion Anna Wintour slipped in something for us hard-up whores by including that pic of a wet ASkars, he’s wearing way too many clothes in the other pictures while Margot is in a damn bikini top and panties. Whatever happened to equally objectifying both sexes?! Since this shoot was Tarzan-themed, Vogue could’ve fixed Hollywood’s mistake by putting Alexander Skarsgard in a Gucci loincloth or something. Why are Hollywood and the fashion world trying to keep ASkars and loincloths apart when they clearly belong together? I swear, they hate us.
There’s more pictures at Vogue.
Pics: Mert Alas and Marcus Piggot/Vogue
Today was day 3 of the Invictus Games in Orlando, FL and after the swimming relay team from Britain won the gold medal, they all gathered around and got Prince Hot Ginge wet. I’m going to keep from commenting on that picture, because Dlisted is already blocked in a lot of places for being HIGHLY inappropriate, and if I describe that pic, this mess of a site will definitely be labeled as 100% porn. So I’ll just leave that beautiful picture here. But I will say that you should be grateful that it’s a digital picture and that I didn’t give you a hard copy. Because if it was a hard copy, you’d definitely have to clean it with antibacterial Windex. You know, you should go ahead and spray your screen with antibacterial Windex anyway. Just in case.
Pics: AP, Splash, Getty
On any given Saturday night, you’d usually find me passed out on a pile of fun size 3 Musketeers wrappers with a dried stream of red wine drool clinging to my face. But this past Saturday night, you’d find me smoking a cigarette in bed in between wiping the sweat off of my forehead with a cold wet towel after having some Photoshop fun with that picture of Prince Hot Ginge busting out a happy O face while grasping onto a bottle. Yes, that’s the most action I’ve had in years.