Praise be to Based God this morning for bringing us a real story about a real rapper smoking actually large quantities of weed. I was getting so sick of Justin Bieber’s wanna-be badass Playskool poser antics and genuinely needed a palate cleanser to get the bad taste out of my mouth (for the past three days its tasted like Pedialyte, Xanax, and soggy Arrowroot cookies).
As a for-real fan of Soul Plane (I made peace with my terrible taste a long time ago) I’ll always love a good Snoop Dogg story. According to TMZ (via the Huffington Post), Snoop Dogg spent Thursday night in a hotel room in Australia like any of us would: by ripping bong hits, ordering $19 cheesecake, and debating with himself whether or not to get up at 6am to beat the rush at the pool (but mostly bong hits). However, by the next morning, the smoke still hadn’t cleared and became thick enough to set off the fire alarm. Firefighters rushed up to his room and prepared for some serious Kurt Russell in Backdraft action, but when they opened the door, they discovered nothing more than a smokey room and a buff-as-hell Snoop Dogg in his sweatpants (seriously, when did Snoop get those muscles?).
The firefighters wouldn’t confirm whether or not the smoke was from weed, but Snoop Dogg looks like a mythical Chinese dragon who grows good shit in his lungs and puffs out thick clouds of dank when he opens his mouth, so it’s a big d-o-double-duh that it probably was weed. Or maybe they have some weird shit they smoke in Australia instead of weed. I know that Australia is a fucked-up Island of Mystery where everything is upside down, hamburgers eat people, and their spiders are the size of small dogs, so maybe they have something stronger and crazier than weed. Wallaby hair? They’re smoking wallaby hair down under, aren’t they?
(Pic via Instagram)
When Anne Hathaway showed up to the Oscars wearing a powder pink Prada nipple dress, Ghouliana Rancic from E! (or somebody like that) said that she was supposed to wear a Valentino gown, but she changed at the last minute after finding out that someone else was wearing a dress that looked just like it. ESCANDALO! That somebody else was Amanda Seyfried. Because Valentino issued a press release to the media hours before the Oscars saying that Anne was going to wear them, she released some super annoying public apology to them. Well, now UsWeekly is saying that at rehearsals the day before the Oscars, Amanda Seyfried showed Anne a picture of the Alexander McQueen dress she was going to wear and Tracy Flick’s overachieving idol lost her mind. UsWeekly put it like this:
“Anne was like ‘WTF?!'” the source reports. “She started throwing a fit!” The 30-year-old Best Supporting Actress victor, however, “never told Amanda she had to change the dress.” Still, Seyfried, 27, was ruffled by Hathaway’s tirade. “Amanda didn’t want to deal with it and left” the rehearsal, the source notes.
I’m with Anne Hathaway on this. She wore a copy of that Valentino gown in all of the dozens of dress rehearsals she had for her Oscar acceptance speech and everything was perfect until that come-to-life Simpsons character had to RUIN HER WHOLE FUCKING LIFE by wearing a dress that looked like hers. How would you feel if you had to change your costume the day before opening night? But Anne handled it all wrong. Anne should’ve put on the fake smile she’s known for and then later that night, she should’ve broken into Amanda’s hotel room and poured itching powder all over that copy cat dress. Anne failed herself by not asking, “What would Eve Harrington do?“
If you have a classic woman’s fragrance – one that brings to mind style, sophistication and polish – and you want to put a fresh perspective on it, you should go down to the bus station, pick the sexiest one of the passed out drunks, put him immediately on camera and don’t hand him a script. Because that’s what Chanel No. 5 did in their latest ad campaign. Okay, that’s not really a homeless person, it’s Brad Pitt looking like he smells like a homeless person. Coco’s grave just spun to the surface.
Brad is the first male spokesmodel for Chanel No. 5. Great choice, because when I look at him up there, I get an immediate urge to spray lots of perfume. Even more amazing than the image though, is the pure poetry spewing forth from Brad’s please-Chapstick-me-bitch lips.
“It’s not a journey. Every journey ends, but we go on. The world turns and we turn with it. Plans disappear, dreams take over. But wherever I go, there you are. My luck, my fate, my fortune. Chanel No.5. Inevitable.”
I’ll have to wait till I get home and get really stoned to understand any of that, but I’m sure it’s deep. Michael K summed up the entire vibe perfectly: “I hope in honor of Brad being their new face, they come out with a bong version of the bottle.”
Alec Baldwin couldn’t let another week go by without shoving the fear into a paparazzo and so outside of this apartment in Manhattan this morning, he proved to all of us once again that he should’ve played the grizzly in The Edge. TMZ says that the pap Alec went after has apparently been bothering the residents in his building. Since Alec is a protector of his own turf and loves a good reason to rage until the veins on his ass lips pop open, he squeezed the pap’s arm while spitting out words of sweet love like “I want you to shut the fuck up” and “I know you got raped by a priest.”
No word yet if the pap plans to file a police report, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we find out that Alec squeezed his left arm so hard it that it cuff off his circulation and he had to get that arm amputated. His lawyer Gloria Allred will tell us all about it during a press conference next week. So if you’re a pap who needs some quick summer money and don’t mind a tidal wave of hot Alec Baldwin saliva on your face: then just shove a camera at him and speed dial Gloria Allred’s number as he chokes out your arm. INSTACASH!
Here’s the video (via The Superficial) of Alec being Alec:
This is some serious comedy art at its finest. Alec calls the pap a “little girl” while holding a pink unicorn pillow pet. Alec might be an asshole, but he’s a genius asshole.
And just like that, you’ve found the perfect dress to wear to the 4/20 prom tomorrow! At last night’s Tribeca Film Festival Premiere of the Five Year Engagement, Emily Blunt wore dress that Betty Draper would wear if Snoop Dogg was the head costume designer on Mad Men. Emily is giving us good shit eleganza, but she should’ve went all the damn way. This is missing some tiny bong earrings, blood shot eyes, a sequined Doritos bag as a purse, rolling paper bracelets, high heels with a grinder in the platform and hair styled so that it looks like she’s been running her hands through her mane like crazy because it feels so soooooooooooft. Emily’s stylist, Willie Nelson, needs to really blow the theme harder in our eyes next time.
It’s a good thing that RiRi wasn’t around, because she would’ve stuffed Emily in some rolling papers and smoked that bitch up!
Here’s a few more tricks and tramps at last night’s premiere: Jason Segel, Olivia Wilde, Shaun White, Amy Poehler shoulder hugging Aubrey Plaza, Cuba Gooding Jr., Kim Cattrall, Victor Garber, Robert DeNiro with his wife Grace Hightower and Leelee Sobieski looking like a creepy lady you meet in the empty aisle of a book store only to find out later that she’s the original owner who died 65 years ago (dun dun dun)!
Back in 2010, some of us developed an addiction to shoving Valium pills into our ears from listening to Mel Gibson pop his anus veins by screaming all kinds of beautiful romantic love lyrics at Oksana Grigorieva. Well, lube up your ear holes and grab a Valium, because Mel is raging again.
Joe Eszterhas, the screenwriter of the masterpiece that is Showgirls who wrote an open letter about how Mel Gibson is still Mel Gibson, gave The Wrap a recording of the glum cunt ranting so hard that he grew a hemorrhoid that eventually popped as he ranted some more. Joe was at Mel’s house to work on the script for that movie about the Jewish Hero and Mel delivered one of his signature freakouts. Joe’s son recorded some of it.
It’s not like Joe should be surprised. If you’re a guest at Mel Gibson’s house, you should know that instead of turndown service and a chocolate on your pillow, you’re going to get a kick to the soul and punch to the ears. If you don’t need Mel’s voice in your ears today, I’ve accurately transcribed his rant below:
“GAAARGAAARGAAARGRRRRRR WHY DONT I HAVE THE FIRST DRAFT OF THE MACCABEES GAAAARRRR GRRRRGAAARGRRAAA WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING GGRRRRAAA GRRAAAGRR COCKSUCKER WHORE GRRRRRRGAAAARRR GRRRR WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO EAT GO HAVE SOMETHING TO EAT HURRRRRR AAAAAH GRRRR FUCKING CUNT COCKSUCKER WHORE AAAAAAAAAAAAAH”
That is totally what it sounds like when Herman Munster is trying to push out a hard shit. You know you’ve listened to too many Mad Mel rants when the only question you have is: I wonder what they were eating? I bet it was latkes. It was totally latkes.