Last week, it seemed like there was trouble in the squad (Side note: Hello, my name is Michael. I’m a grown up and I just wrote “trouble in the squad.“) when Lorde was seen with Taylor Swift enemy Diplo. Diplo once said that someone should start a Kickstarter to buy Taylor Swift an ass. I figured that Girl Squad Captain Taylor would immediately tell Lorde to shred her Hello Kitty membership card and then ask for the copy of the key to the treasure box where they keep the friendship bracelet supplies. But I don’t think that happened, because here’s Taylor Swift (giving you Dollar Tree Elvira Hancock) and Lorde (giving you constipated and stoned Emily the Strange in an Ice Capades show directed by Tim Burton) at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party last night.
But maybe something is up. Lorde does look like she was sedated and is only posing with Taylor because Taylor threatened to expose secrets that could ruin her career. You know, secrets like she really hates the color black, she loves the color pink, Nicholas Sparks is her favorite author, she really feels whole when she smiles and nothing brightens up her day like sunshine. But then again, Lorde always looks like a goth ghost who took too much Ambien, so everything’s probably fine. However, nothing is fine with the blood explosion messiness that Gwen Stefani wore.
While Blake Shelton looked like the most dressed up dude at a hillbilly wedding, Gwen Stefani looked like she was about to star in Carrie On Ice!
It looks like her belly button is barfing blood. She looks like a slutty blood clot. We get it, Gwen. You’re hot. You still got it, bitch. I’m all for a trick trying to get attention by showing her granny panties in a sheer dress, but Gwen could’ve done it without wearing an ensemble that makes me want to throw tampons, Band-Aids and cotton balls at her.
And here’s more pictures from last night’s VF party including some of Justin Timberlake being annoying and Anne Hathaway wearing Mrs. Roper’s favorite disco freakum muumuu.
During a recent interview with The New York Times, feminine odor’s arch nemesis Robin Thicke confessed something anyone with two ears and a basic understanding of shame already knew: that his pathetic attempt to win his estranged wife Paula Patton back after she left him was beyond embarrassing. Robin has finally realized that releasing an entire album dedicated to the woman who finally got tired of finding random thongs in the laundry wasn’t such a great idea. The same goes for promoting it with the desperation of a “Can I Borrow A Feeling“-singing Kirk Van Houten. Robin knows now.
Robin says his “Aha!” moment (or maybe it was more of an “Oh shit” moment) came shortly after he dedicated his performance of “Forever Love” at the 2014 BET Awards to Paula. Robin was confronted by a friend who got real with him and not-so-subtly told him he looked “like a sucker“.
“What I thought was romantic was just embarrassing. And he said, “You should just go away for a while.” So I shut everything down. I took some time off to be with my son, and to be with my family and close friends. And the more time I took off, the more everything became clear.”
Even though every song on Paula was a damn disaster, Robin doesn’t have any regrets about recording them. Because that’s how Robin is.
“Look, my songwriting has always been autobiographical, and always will be. The ‘Paula’ album was no different. I was struggling through my toughest time, and I decided to share it. And I remember my team and my record company didn’t want me to put it out, but they stuck by me. In hindsight, the only thing I would have done differently was, I wouldn’t have promoted it or sold it. I would have given it away. That would have kept the purity of the message intact.”
“You mean I could have gotten this shit for free?” said all six of the people who bought Paula. A group that includes Robin’s horny papa Alan Thicke, who was no doubt responsible for 2/3 of the sales. At least Robin can sleep well tonight knowing that someone, somewhere is trying to make his wish come true by giving away their copy of Paula for free. Sure, so far nobody but the trash can will take it, but at least that somebody is trying.
After many many months of trying to get her go get her go get her go get her back, it looks like Robin Thicke can finally call the 1-800-GOT-JUNK guys to come and pick up the hundreds of boxes of unsold Paula albums in his garage and take them to the dump where they belong, because his wife has officially gone from “estranged” to “fuck this, I’m out”.
According to People, Robin’s former bottom bitch and the mother of his child Paula Patton filed for divorce on October 3rd in Los Angeles. She cited – YOU GUESSED IT – ‘irreconcilable differences’ as the reason, and is asking for joint custody of their 4-year-old son Julian. Although I heard (no I didn’t) that Paula simply walked into the Los Angeles County divorce court offices, threw down a copy of Paula, and said “This. This is why. Write that as the reason.”
Well, he tried. Not everybody tries to win back their estranged wife by releasing a shitty thrown-together album of stalker-sounding love songs in a shameless attempt to profit off of your break-up and convince the public you’re not a douche-dipped pussy hound. And by ‘tried’, I mean he tried to profit off of it. What did Paula make, $876.42 worldwide? That’s like an hour in the VIP room at Clitter Shakers and a round of antibiotics at the STD clinic. You done good, Robin!
I’m sure Robin is taking this divorce news pretty hard (“Oh yeah, so hard” – says Robin, as his penis cries into hooker pussy), so I suggest Papa Alan try to cheer him up! Maybe throw on the Growing Pains theme and treat him to a lap dance from a stripper that looks like Joanna Kerns. “Show me that smile agaaaaain…“
Paula Patton popped up in public last night at an Emmys party wearing a demure version of the famed forever Slut Dress. Yes, this is basically the Slut Dress’ aunt. She’s the one who travels everywhere with the Slut Dress’ grandmother and has crotched (ooo, I get to type “typo and it stays!”) covers for her Iris Murdoch and Maeve Binchy novels.
If it’s possible, the Amazonian Paula led with her ass last night. I’m not gonna shade her because I saw how she beat the shit out of that little French girl in Mission Impossible 16 or whatever. Chick’s a brute.
According to the NY Daily News, Patton hasn’t been seen since the Vanity Fair Oscars party back in March, which was only days after the announcement that she had left her human roofie of a husband, Robin Thicke. She’s stayed undercover since then, probably burning all of her old clothes. Cuz’ you know whenever Thicke had a trick over she was trying on Paula’s dresses à la crazed Kate Mara hatin’ Robin Wright in House of Cards.
Check out pics of Paula Patton keeping it classy AND assy last night at Craig’s Restaurant in the gallery below.
Poor lovelorn d-bag Robin Thicke. According to TMZ, releasing a serial killer-y album full of stalker ballads that sold all of 50 copies hasn’t won back the affections of his estranged wife Paula Patton like he thought it would. I know, I’m shocked too; who of us wouldn’t swoon to the moon and back if the human equivalent of gonorrhea wrote you a bunch of songs that sound like a 15-year-old’s crappy LiveJournal poetry?
A source (Alan Thicke’s magic talking penis) tells TMZ that Robin has put their house up for sale and hired an attorney to split up their assets. Paula hasn’t lived in the house since February, but neither she nor Robin have hired a divorce lawyer yet. You hear that Robin? She doesn’t have a divorce lawyer yet! Quick, start recording a follow-up to Paula called Paula Don’t Call Trope and Trope!
Obviously this could all be just another jenga block in the publicity stunt pyramid Robin and Paula have been building since he was photographed with his hand up a skank’s ass, but I think he’s actually selling his house because he was probably having a tough time getting laid. Most true-blue sluts have a sixth sense for detecting the presence of a bottom bitch in the atmosphere (usually by way of a tingle in their pussy or gag reflex). So every time Robin brought a new blonde trick home, they no doubt would freeze upon entry, put their hand to their pussy like a slutty psychic and ask “Did a wife or a long-term girlfriend used to live here? I’m sensing drama. I should go.”
I know, it’s weird seeing Robin Thicke’s fingers when they’re not up his side piece’s cooze.
After getting beautifully trolled by Twitter, Alan Thicke’s son took his ass to Ebro in the Morning on New York’s Hot97 (Side note: They should’ve temporarily changed the name to Ebola in the Morning when Robin Thicke was on) to push the creepy album of “get Paula back” songs that Paula Patton could use against him to get a restraining order if she wasn’t in on it since more publicity equals more cash. The Summer’s Eve lothario, who has aired all of his douche laundry in an album that’s predicted to flop, says that he’s trying to keep most of his break-up with Paula private, but then he said that he hasn’t seen her face in person for months.
“I try to keep most of that private, but, I haven’t seen her for four months. If you’ve been together that long, you kinda became adults together instead of being adults and then meeting. But maybe a year or two off, we’ll become our own people without each other and then it will be meant to be.”
I don’t think Robin is telling the whole truth. If the break-up isn’t one big, giant PR stunt orchestrated by the both of them and Paula really doesn’t want to be with him, then I bet he has seen her plenty of times in the past four months even though she hasn’t seen him. I’m sure Robin sneaks into her house in the middle of the night and after he watches her sleep and smells her breath, he jacks off into her panty drawer while silently weeping. I think he wrote a song about that. Speaking of songs, Robin says that Paula hasn’t heard all of them:
“She hasn’t heard [the album],” the crooner admitted. “She’s only heard a few songs. I don’t think she wants to hear it right now. I can’t speak for her, but I think space is an important part of any healing process. She’s the best girl in the world, a great mother, and still a good friend. I want to wish her well and let her know that she’s a great person and she deserves to have a good life… She was my rock… Everything we have right now, we built together.”
And Robin says that their marriage didn’t die because his wandering dick blew the lid off of their open marriage ways:
“[Cheating] is not why we’re apart. We’re apart because we just couldn’t be together anymore for a while. There’s a hundred different reasons, there isn’t just one. There’s a long list… I changed, and I got a little too selfish, a little too greedy, and little too full of myself.”
Yes, Robin is really showing that he’s shed his doucheness, because nothing says “unselfish” like putting out an album full of creepy stalker songs about your ex and then talking about your ex in interview after interview to sell as many copies of said creepy album as possible. Robin has totally changed! Robin is no longer a douche (but that vinegar and dead wildflowers odor that wafts up out of your twat every time you see his face tells you otherwise).
And here’s the video for one of Robin’s creepy songs. Yes, Robin brought the children into it, but I’m just glad that he dressed them in outfits from the J. Crew bridal catalog instead of making them wear what the Blurred Lines chicks wore, or didn’t wear. At least he’s showing SOME restraint.