Nicki Minaj has been teasing the music video for “Anaconda” for what feels like FOR-EV-UR, but the sloppy silicone-injected madness finally ends tomorrow when that shit is released onto the world, and we all call in sick because human eyes haven’t yet evolved to handle staring directly into Nicki’s spit roasted honey garlic-glazed ass cheeks without getting a migraine. But until then, she’s still teasing that mess. Yesterday she teased several images from the upcoming video on Instagram featuring a bored-as-shit Wheelchair Jimmy looking like he’d rather do a Degrassi LIVE! 40-city mall tour than get a lap dance from Nicki Minaj. He literally looks like he’s afraid to get a boner and he’s treating Nicki’s vulcanized rubber bubble butt like a T-Rex. “If I don’t move, it won’t move, and she’ll eventually leave.”
Or maybe he was afraid Nicki would leave too much of her scent (L’eau de Fix-a-Flat and whatever it is you smell when you walk into a Frederick’s of Hollywood) on his Drake Snake and his on-again off-again boo Rihanna would get jealous and tear it off with her acrylic claws. Because yeah, it seems like they’re back on again. According to Radar, Princess RiRi and Wheelchair Jimmy might be back on again. They were spotted together at New York’s Griffin nightclub on Monday night, which – no offense Radar – doesn’t necessarily mean they’re back together; it just means RiRi’s blunt-hunting pussy pouch got horn-horn for that Drake dick again and she put him back into her regular rotation.
Here’s RiRi on her way to meet Wheelchair Jimmy at the club on Monday night. RiRi, always thinking ahead, changed into sneakers on her way there, because she knows Drake is a stage-5 clinger and she should always be prepared to make a quick getaway if shit turns from sexy to suffocating. And also some more of Drake pulling a Sad Kanye while getting a lap dance from Nicki Minaj, because it’s not as if we won’t be seeing it over and over and over again tomorrow.
Well, almost. It looks like they ran out of paint towards the end, but I’m sure any of us would make the same mistake. It’s impossible to estimate how much paint you’d need to cover Rihanna’s infinitely vast expanse of forehead. It’s like trying to comprehend how much water is in the ocean or grains of sand on a beach; it is not meant to be known (#deep).
Rihanna is W Magazine’s alien princess cover girl for September, and earlier today she revealed the cover on Twitter (insert Tobias Fünke “I’m afraid I just blue myself” joke here), as well as a bunch of pictures from the nightmare-looking photo shoot. RiRi calls it as an “Eskimo Horror Cover Story”, but I’d be more inclined to describe it as “Tired Ewok prostitute from the red light district of Endor” meets “The broken condom baby of Wez from The Road Warrior and a Qallupilluit, with just a pinch of Old Gregg.”
But if I didn’t know this was a high-fashion photo shoot for W Magazine, I’d be sure I was looking at a deviantART picture based off some weird Twilight/True Blood crossover fan fiction (I’m guessing either a story about Jacob Black losing his virginity to a sexy shape-shifting cloud of weed smoke).
The only thing missing was RiRi’s chichis. No greased-up booby balls! Someone at W must have a personal vendetta against RiRi’s Balzac Brat titties, because they were buried under layers and layers of Wookiee fur in each shot. Can you even legally call it a photo shoot if RiRi’s Barbadian blunt tip nips never make an appearance? I don’t think you can.
Here’s the rest of Rihanna looking like PETA‘s worst nightmare, as well RiRi posing in some Muppet-looking Balmain sweaters with the legendary Iman and bitchmaster general Naomi Campbell.
For what has felt like centuries, the media and Beyonce have been playing a little game of back and forth that she probably orchestrated from the beginning since her weave controls the world. The media will squirt out a story about how Bey-Z’s marriage is on life support and they’re only holding it together for sake of their
child brand. Then Beyonce will answer to that rumor by posting a perfect family portrait on Instagram. Rinse, repeat, blah blah blah… But now Page Six is stepping shit up and over the weekend they squatted and pooted out a 10,000 word piece titled “Inside The Crumbling Marriage of Jay-Z and Beyonce.” Instead of that piece, I wish they would’ve explained to me in 10,000 words what kind of slutty burqa outfit (see: ab0ve) Beyonce wears in the On The Run tour, but I guess they’re saving that piece for another day.
Page Six claims they talked to one source who has been deep inside Team Bey-Z for years (aka Basement Baby who called Page Six from the Campbell’s soup can phone in her basement). The source didn’t exactly spit up dingles that are shiny and brand new. They say that Jay-Z and Beyonce have been a business arrangement from the beginning, and she started humping his camel humps, because she knew he’d take her higher and he got with her, because he knew she’d take him higher. Beyonce’s puppet strings used to be pulled by her daddy and now they’re being pulled by her husband. Beyonce can’t take a dump without Jay-Z popping his head in the bathroom to tell her to grunt softer and put a little more stank on it.
“There’s no bigger controller than Jay. She’s great, but she’d be a little lower on the totem pole if it weren’t for hooking up with him. In terms of ambition, talent, business acumen and work ethic, Beyoncé and Jay Z were perfectly matched. They are solid, solid business people who know what they’re doing.”
The source said that Beyonce is starting to get sick of Jay-Z controlling the hard drive in her head and is slowly stepping away from him. The robot uprising is beginning! Apparently, the straw that broke Jay-Z’s back has an infinityhead that is big enough to host the next Comic-Con, has a pair of alien nipples we’ve all seen more than we’ve seen our own and is named RiRi. The source said that RiRi’s the real reason why Basement Baby issued a camel beat down on Jay-Z.
The source says the elevator fight after the Met Ball was really over Jay’s protégé Rihanna, whom he allegedly planned to meet later that night at his 40/40 club. “Solange was like, ‘Enough is enough — you must be [screwing] Rihanna,’” says the source. “To many people who know them, they know it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”
Finally, the source said that Beyonce and Jay-Z will put their dying marriage out of its misery eventually, but it might not happen for a while, because they want to milk as much money out of it as they can.
Today, the source says, it’s not whether they’ll split, but how they’ll split — adding that the only time Jay and Beyoncé are really together is on stage. They’re allegedly traveling with marriage counselors, but Jay — as he’s always done — spends much of his time on the phone, tending to business. “His phone’s constantly ringing,” says the source, “Jay trying to make deal after deal.” Calls to representatives for the couple by The Post were not returned.
The question now is whether to stay married while essentially living separate lives — becoming the Bill and Hillary of hip-hop — or publicly divorce. Ultimately, it will be about the brand. “There’s face-saving involved — they don’t want to be looked at like other celebrities out there,” says the source. “They are business people first, entertainers second. Husband and wife comes somewhere down the line.”
Team Bey-Z has probably been planning this gigantic, break-up stunt for years. They staged and leaked that elevator video so the media would create a tsunami of break-up rumors. They’re going to ride those break-up rumors and use them for maximum publicity until the last show of their tour where they’ll sign the divorce papers onstage. The sight of their Gods breaking up before their eyes will cause the BumbleBeys in the audience to collectively shake so hard that it will creative a destructive, giant sonic boom that will quickly flatten the earth. And as we all turn to dust, Jay-Z, Beyonce and Blue Ivy Carter will escape Earth in a spaceship headed to the next planet they plan to rule and destroy. In other words, this “break-up” shit is all just an Illuminati plot to destroy the world. Don’t take the
We already know RiRi’s stance on Instagram nipple censorship, but what everyone really wanted to know is her stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and for one brief second on Twitter she shared it (or did she?).
RiRi pulled a stage 4 Dwight Howard today when for one brief second the hashtag #FREEPALESTINE was on her Twitter page until her PR people called a MAN DOWN CODE 10 situation and immediately yanked it down. But just like that depressing, gross feeling that a trick feels after sucking Charlie Sheen’s dick, nothing really goes away on the Internet and her tweet had already been screen capped and passed around. Everybody was bracing themselves for RiRi to scream that she was hacked, but instead she spit out an even more ridiculous excuse that’s made of bullshit and pure BITCH, PLEASE.
A source (Hi, RiRi’s publicist) tells TMZ that she didn’t mean to tweet support for Palestine at all. The source says that RiRi was reading about the Gaza conflict online when she clicked a link that must’ve tweeted this out to her 36 million followers:
Those pro-Palestine bots hiding in links on CNN will get your every time. RiRi claims that she didn’t even know about the tweet until her followers started pointing it out. She hit the delete button. The source says that RiRi isn’t pro-Palestine or pro-Israel. She’s “pro-peace” and doesn’t want “innocent people dying.”
So RiRi tweeted something for controversy and then deleted it so she’d get more attention while not having to stand up for shit. Got it. Now that we got that out of the way and know that RiRi is just pro-attention, she can go back to tweeting about nipples and weed and maybe she can address some questions I really need the answers to. My questions are:
1. Does Drake really like getting his ass eaten? (Answer: Doesn’t everybody?)
2. Does Drake’s ass taste like maple syrup and yellow Starburst?
3. When you were eating Drake’s ass and his legs started to shake, did the vibrations ricochet off of your satellite dish forehead creating a sonic boom that busted out all the windows?
I know, blogging about the conflict in Gaza and Drake getting his salad tossed in the same post. For where is my Putlizer?!?
Pic: Pacific Coast News
TLC got served a giant plate of Twitter shade from RiRi last week when T-Boz said during an interview with Australian morning show Sunrise that sex is very easy to sell and she’s sick of seeing pop stars with their “booby cakes” hanging out all the time. Sunrise claims that T-Boz was talking about RiRi and RiRi’s nipples, which has made an appearance on your eyeballs more than your own nipples have. RiRi slapped back at TLC by changing her Twatter background to a picture of T-Boz covering her booby cakes with a hand bra. Well, T-Boz has jumped on her Big Wheels and is back pedaling now. T-Boz said on Twatter that she wasn’t even talking about RiRi’s alien nipples and those media bitches made it all up to start something. What I learned while reading T-Boz’s Twatter is that T-Boz types and spells like a 12-year-old whose got a serious case of arthritis of the fingers and just huffed all the freon out of an air conditioning unit. What I’m trying to say is that T-Boz tweets like Justin Bieber.
Last time I checked I didn’t say no bodies name the interview lady did shit I’m out of the country lol I didn’t even see pics
how did I get dragged in2 talkin about some1 I like I don’t care what my opinion is I’m gonna say what I want at least get what I say right
Lol I swear when some of their mamas whipped after sex apart of the sperm must of got whipped cuz their not whole y’all can catch bricks
See & this why it’s terrible 2 be a follower lol ya hear the wrong thing & they run with it & don’t even know wtf their talking about smh
Looks like folks need 2 research I didn’t see a show or pics I’m in Australia if 1 person says something they run with it not knowing smh
“I’m out of the country and didn’t even see the pics” is a really good excuse. Because we all know that Australia is practically Antarctica and they’ve got no WiFi and barely any electricity. Bitch, please. Those pictures were broadcast everywhere including on the side of the Sydney Opera House. Everyone has seen RiRi’s nipples and that’s exactly what T-Boz was talking about. T-Boz is probably backtracking, because she’s sick of her eyes crossing while reading crazy, incoherent, hate-filled tweets that RiRi’s rabid navy sends her and when T-Boz thinks your spelling and typing is shit…
Here’s a covered up RiRi (MARK THIS DAY) at the Spike TV Awards yesterday accepting some antler trophy from Kevin Hart who can easily have an eye-to-eye conversation with her nipples.
Pics: Wenn.com, Getty
TLC, the modest and chaste Christian musical group who had a wholesome hit song about eating that pussy while on the rag shook their heads at RiRi for constantly using sex and her bare alien nipples to sell her music. During an interview with the Australian talk show Sunrise on Channel 7 (via Entertainmentwise), the topic of RiRi’s always out there nipples came up and T-Boz said this:
“Every time I see you, you don’t have to be naked. It’s easy to sell sex. It’s hard for us to say anything because any time we do, they say, ‘Oh TLC must be jealous’, but I call a spade a spade.”
Chilli jumped in and added that they got to the top without putting their “booby cakes” on display and now I suddenly want to put my mouth on a marzipan nip:
“We became the biggest girl selling group of all time with our clothes on and that says a lot. We could go around too with booby cakes out all day long.”
Just like her nipples, RiRi doesn’t keep her opinions about hos hating on her to herself. RiRi clapped back at T-Boz and Chilli by changing her Twitter background to a picture of T-Boz giving herself hand pasties.
And by twatting out this:
First of all, T-Boz needs to shut the hell up, because she’s shitting out lies and doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Sure it might’ve been easy for her to sell sex back in the day and it’s easy for RiRi to sell sex today, but it’s not easy for everyone to sell sex. Every time I try to sell sex (and at a good price, mind you), the only thing I get is a handful of lung chunks from my prospective john laughing at me trying to get some money for this worn out ass. So fuck yourself with those side-burn tails, T-Boz. Second of all, RiRi doesn’t need to use her nipples to sell her music. Her naturally gorgeous nightingale voice already does a good job of that:
So take that, T-Boz!
RiRi knows that it’s been approximately 45 seconds since we’ve seen her alien nipples and that’s way too long, so she brought the #FREETHENIPPLE movement to the CFDA Awards in NYC tonight by wearing tons of fucking sparkles, a stole made out of Poochie and not much else. Bitch is giving me headline stripper Josephine Baker. I love it, because it’s an elegant ensemble that can easily take you from the stroll to cocktails with THE QUEEN, it’s covered in crystals (and my gay eyes jizz for crystals) and she almost reached the high levels of demureness and sophistication that Rose McGowan reached at the VMAs a million years ago.
And Miley Cyrus has been challenged. Expect Miley to show up to the Frederick’s of Hollywood Awards held in the parking lot of a strip mall in Florida wearing nothing but exquisite Lucite heels and a beaded tampon string hanging out of her twat.
Charlie Sheen, society’s insane meth-smoking human bedbug, decided to celebrate going a week without chugging from the old bottle of Mr. Bubble under the sink by taking his porn star fiancé Brett Rossi out for a nice dinner at Giorgio Baldi in Santa Monica Wednesday night. While there, Charlie and Brett noticed that Rihanna was also having dinner at Giorgio Baldi. According to Charlie (so take this with both a grain of salt and a shot of penicillin) he sent a request over to RiRi asking if he could introduce his fiancé, who happens to be a huge fan. RiRi replies by politely declining, saying there were too many paps and it wasn’t possible at that time.
This is fine by Charlie, since he claims that meeting RiRi “would have been 84 interminable seconds of chugging Draino and ”please kill me now” that I’d never get back” (whatever the hell that means) but not meeting RiRi made Brett Rossi a sad porno panda, so the second they got home he took to Twitter with a delicious bottle of Drano and gave RiRi a piece of his mind. Unless you have an hour to kill and a copy of Rosetta Stone Crackhead, don’t bother attempting to read Charlie’s next-level bonkers Twitter rant. Here are the highlights:
“Sorry we’re not KOOL enough to warrant a blessing from the Princess (or in this case the Village idiot)”
“See ya on the way down (we always do) and actually, it was a pleasure NOT meeting you”
“I’m guessing you needed those precious 84 seconds to situate that bad wig before you left the restaurant”
He also pulled out that classic joke about Halloween not being for another couple of months (good one, Dad) and reminded her that the reason he’s been around for 31 years is because he always makes time to meet with people. Really? It’s not because cockroaches are notoriously difficult to get rid of?
But because RiRi’s brain was replaced with a half-smoked joint floating in a puddle of stripper booty sweat a long time ago, she decided to fan the crackpipe fires by Photoshopping a pic of her signing an autograph for Charlie Sheen and using it as the background image for her Twitter account (#girlyouneedtogetalife) and tweeting the following:
If that old queen don't get ha diapers out of a bunch…
— Rihanna (@rihanna) May 22, 2014
“That old queen?” Sounds like someone follows Alec Baldwin on Twitter. I’m surprised she didn’t follow that up with a tweet calling him a rude thoughtless little pig (it’s not too late RiRi!)
A sequined butterfly disco top really would’ve taken this look to the upper echelons of class.
Since RiRi’s single now and is done with putting skid marks on the floor from fucking on Wheelchair Jimmy in his chair, she threw one of Nicki Minaj’s merkins on top of her head, dipped her nipples in a bowl of ice to get them nice and hard, threw on a white tank top and took her ass to the Thunder vs. Clippers game at the Staples Center in L.A. last night. RiRi looks like a Hunts Point ho who lures prospective johns to her corner by twerking on cars and is always bragging about how the other hoookers are jealous of her because she looks like a black Pink and because she gives the best handjob on the block. That wig looks like flattened cotton candy, but it does her face good.
And in related news, an animal hospital ambulance was called to the mansion of Donald Sterling after that evil amphibian choked on his own lizard tongue after seeing black people sitting courtside at a Clippers game. I wish RiRi would’ve texted him from her courtside seat and asked him if he wanted to play some golf.
If you own a company that makes Kleenex, maple syrup ice cream, or Boys on the Side DVDs, go ahead and order 3 Golden Corral chocolate wonderfalls for the company Christmas party, because it’s about to be a very good week for you. According to Us Weekly, Wheelchair Jimmy aka Ms. Drake if you’re nasty is laying on the couch in his Toronto Raptors Snuggie, eating ice cream from the tub with his bare hands and bursting into tears every time he sees a commercial for Zales, because he and RiRi are OVAH. Someone better call Canada and tell them to put the Queen back on the loonie; it looks like there won’t be a Canadian Princess after all.
“Rihanna and Drake had another fight,” a source tells Us. “He is too in love with her, which has always been the problem. They have been fighting, but that could all change any day now. It is how it always is with them.”
The love that blossomed between the lukewarm bowl of Red River (aka Canada’s oatmeal) and the horny Barbadian blunt-puffer began but a mere three months ago, and already it has been taken out back and given the Old Yeller treatment for the same reason it ended the first time: Wheelchair Jimmy was organizing all the R+WJ monogrammed items in his hope chest while RiRi’s pussy lips were texting every contact in her phone “Yo, u awake? Mi hornee”.
Goddamnit, when is Drake going to learn you can’t tame a true blue slut! Rihanna doesn’t want to stay at home watching 7th Heaven on Netflix while you rub her feet and ask her if she’s had a tough day; she wants to roll around in a pile of strippers and air out her b-hole in French magazines and to hey-hey-hey-hey smoke weed everyday. She doesn’t want to be the Princess of Canada, she wants to be the Duchess of Sucking the Dirty D. Deal with it, Jimmy Brooks.