Sophia Loren didn’t really need to explain the master class in side-eye-throwing she gave in that vintage masterpiece above, which is the Mona Lisa of the International Museum of Shade, but she did anyway and my soul is glad she did. Because Sophia’s explanation of the picture is almost better than the picture itself and has taken me higher than the clouds in heaven (which probably look like Jayne Mansfield’s chichis). Now we all know that’s a “Please don’t let her titties explode all over the place and smudge my impeccable eyebrow situation” side-eye. Sophia explained it like this to Entertainment Weekly:
“Paramount had organized a party for me. All of cinema was there, it was incredible. And then comes in Jayne Mansfield, the last one to come. For me, that was when it got amazing. She came right for my table. She knew everyone was watching. She sat down. And now, she was barely…Listen. Look at the picture. Where are my eyes? I’m staring at her nipples because I am afraid they are about to come onto my plate.
In my face you can see the fear. I’m so frightened that everything in her dress is going to blow—BOOM!—and spill all over the table. There may be other photos, but this is the picture. This is the one that shows how it was. This is the only picture.
Many, many times I am given this photo to autograph it. And I never do. I don’t want to have anything to do with that. And also out of respect for Jayne Mansfield because she’s not with us anymore.”
Finally, that masterpiece has a title: The Fear Of Nipples On My Plate.
Mondays are disgusting and gross and nobody should have to live through them, but they’re a little less disgusting and gross when you can rinse out the Monday crust from your eyes with these pictures of Prince Hot Ginge looking like an extra derpy wascally wabbit running from Elmer Fudd while playing touch rugby with a bunch of kids.
While Duchess Kate and Prince William continued to whore out every single detail of the standby king or queen baking in her uterus royale, someone in that family did ACTUAL work. At the Eccles RFC (whatever that means) in Manchester, England this morning, Uncle Hot Ginge took part in a teacher training session which included a game of touch rugby. I’m beginning to think that my mother did me wrong by having me 25 years too early and not moving to England right after she had me, because if she did I could be the one playing touch rugby with PHG. The most star-studded shit that happened to me in school was the time Tina Yothers came to visit us and it was square pizza day, so her visit was the second most exciting thing to happen that day.
These pictures once again tell me that PHG will make a perfect husband. He’s a ginge, he’s got access to those royal jewels, he’ll forever get that benefits money, he has sweet moves, he can teach you how to snort vodka when doctors tell you to cut back on drinking booze and he looks like he genuinely likes kids. So he can entertain the brats in the backyard of Buckingham Palace while you and THE QUEEN get drunk on spiked Earl Grey tea while gossiping about the ugly dress that slut tramp trollop Cumilla wore to the Downton Abbey viewing party.
And yes, this picture has already made a morning appearance in my Photoshop.
Take In The Beautiful Moment When Frankie Grande Realized He Didn’t Win America’s Favorite Houseguest On Big Brother
Strangely enough, the face Frankie Grande makes when he’s hit with the ice cold fact that he’s not America’s Sweetheart looks a lot like the face Alice The Goon makes when she has an O.
Big Brother’s 16th season (Side note: I’ve watched every episode of every season and spent time watching the live feeds, which means I’ve wasted hundreds of hours listening to strangers talk about food and their bowel movements. What have you done with YOUR life?) ended last night with undercover cop Derrick winning the $500,000 over future Sean Cody star Cody and undercover genius/serial eardrum murderer Victoria (who was ROBBED). Just as I expect to end my night tonight crying into a pile of empty apple pie wrappers, I expected Derrick to win and his ass deserved it. But a beautiful, heart-warming twist happened at the end of the show when The Chenbot announced who America voted as their top 3 favorite houseguests.
Frankie Grande is a social media mogul with millions of fans and his sister Ariana Grande Latte (“Oh my GAWD, I didn’t know she was his sister. He never said so!” – everyone) is the biggest pop star in every universe, so I prepared myself for the image of him twirling like a toy poodle on meth, because I figured he’d make the top 3. Ariana tweeted about voting for him a few times. So a pleasant surprise bear hugged my soul when Julie Chen announced Donny, Zach and Nicole as the top 3. The face Frankie Grande made after finding out he wasn’t America’s favorite was priceless. It’s like in the movies when the bitchiest bitch in school loses homecoming queen.
As the dandy troll cried on the inside, Julie Chen named former HSOTD and this generation’s Forrest Gump, Donny, as America’s favorite houseguest. We truly all won and we won again when the credits rolled and the camera caught this:
Is he crying because he expected his millions of fans to welcome him back to the world by breaking down the walls of the studio to hug him? Did he make a poopy in his Little Lord Fauntleroy shorty shorts? Who knows, but I do know that picture is visual Prozac.
Are they throwing the official gang signs of the Illuminati: STUNT QUEEN chapter or are they saying “Look at us! We’re attention whores!” in sign language?
For the past few weeks, Page Six and everybody else has been counting down to the end of Beyonce and Jay-Z’s marriage. They’ve said that RiRi is Jay-Z’s side piece, Beyonce is looking for a penthouse to live in without Jay-Z and so and so on. Every time a new divorce rumor pops up, Beyonce throws up a portrait of a perfectly family on Instagram (see: picture above). The media, Instagram and Beyonce are obviously in CAHOOTS together. Well, expect Beyonce’s Instagram to be hit with another wave of damage control portraits, because the media is still at it. »
Katy Perry, Madge, Brit Brit Spears, Lady CaCa, Beyonce, Miley Cyrus and every other pop ho is sitting on top of her suitcase at the bus station waiting for a Greyhound bus to take her back to wherever the hell she came from, because her services are no longer needed or wanted now that the true Empress of Pop has come back to reclaim her rightful throne!
After solving some of the world’s hardest cases and getting engaged to a purse-holding honey-glazed ham with eyebrows sent from up above, the most talented Jackson (after Michael, Janet, Rebbie, Jermaine and Blanket) has finally given the world a brand new song. You’ve probably warped your MPEG file of “Heart Don’t Lie” from playing it over and over again all day everyday, so you FINALLY have something new from Toy Toy to fill your ear holes with repeatedly. Toy Toy’s new single “Feels Like Love,” which I’m sure is already #1 in Kazakhstan and on Blanket’s iTunes Top 25 Most Played playlist, sounds like a song that a Real Housewives would turn down for being too cliche and tacky, but Detective La Toya uses her artistic skills to turn it into a dance masterpiece that I’m sure will sweep, mop, Swiffer and vacuum the Grammys next year.
Before making your eyes and ears tingle by watching this video, I should tell you to not even think of accusing Detective La Toya of causing auto-tune to go extinct by using all of it. La Toya doesn’t even know what auto-tune is! She probably thinks it’s a place you take your car for an oil change. La Toya’s voice just naturally sounds like a robot toddler with agita.
Toy Toy is 58 and she can still kick, stretch and kick better than tramps a third of her age.
And from now on, the audience at every Beyonce show is going to look like the audience at Basement Baby’s show in the basement (read: a couple of moths and that’s it), because all the BumbleBeys have flown out of the BeyHive and into the Toy Toy Chest! You’re probably wondering, “What’s a Beyonce?” Exactly!
Welsh artist Dan Llywelyn Hall should be the only artist allowed to paint the portraits of the British royal family, because he really uses his paintbrush to capture the beauty, spirit and charisma of the royals. Dan’s portrait of THE QUEEN was praised as an artistic achievement, because he made her look like George Bush in drag holding in a butt queef. Nobody thought that Mr. Hall could top himself, but he did. He’s done it again!
Dan Llywelyn Hall, who will probably be executed by the royal family any day now, unveiled his portrait of Prince William and surprisingly it’s not titled, “Smellin’ Farts.” The portrait titled “Fatherhood” shows the second-in-line to the throne looking like he’s about to lick a window or catch a fly with his mouth. It’s absolutely stunning. Mr. Hall made Prince William look like a misshapen and melting white yam with rosacea and skid mark eyebrows. Prince William looks so powerful and so regal and he’s staring off into the distance while thinking to himself, “Durrrrrrrrrrrrr.” It’s as if he’s pondering his future as the King of England or like he just got a glimpse of Duchess Camilla’s thong as her dress blew up.
My only problem with this portrait is that he’s got way too much hair and not enough teef. The hair to teeth ratio is way off and needs to be reversed. Other than that, it’s the spitting image of Prince William and it should be made into a flag and that flag should be flown above Buckingham Palace.
Here’s more of Prince William’s perfect portrait and pictures of him and Duchess Kate at Wimbledon yesterday.
When Robin’s thumb goes up, the b-holes of blonde club tricks cringe.
Canadian-American anal fissure Robin Thicke (yes, Canada, we’re only claiming half of him) is out there whoring that album he made to get Paula Patton back (aka the album he made after he and Paula Patton decided to fake break-up and use that fake break-up to sell an entire album of “get back” songs. They’ll follow it up with a “reunion album” and hopefully they follow that album up with an album full of the cries and screams they’ll let out when the earth swallows them whole, because it’s sick of their shit). To whore out his STUNT QUEEN album, Robin is doing a Q&A on Twitter today and yesterday, Vh1, asked hos to submit their questions to the half-melted suppository in aviators to #AskThicke. It’s not going well for Vh1, but it’s going SO WELL for all of us.
Just like the beautiful #AskDraya fiasco, Twitter took #AskThicke, wiped their assholes with it and immediately gave it back to Robin. They asked Robin about his rapey lyrics, his stalking of Paula Patton and what it’s like being the human equivalent of a tampon dipped in AXE. Twitter abused the fuck out of him, but honestly, he was asking for it and it would’ve never happened if he didn’t dress like a slut.
Some of the greatest hits of #AskThicke are after the jump and I fell into a coffin at the Ken Doll one. What a wonderful Canada Day gift! »
Mario Diaz of PIX 11 was reporting from Midtown in Manhattan about Shia LaBeouf’s arrest and it would’ve been a perfect moment if Shia appeared and tried to take Mario down with his old timey cartoon boxing moves while wearing his hot corduroy leggings. But the next best thing happen. A wild-eyed, happy-faced Erykah Badu slid into the shot while wearing Twinkie the Kid’s signature hat and looking like she just swallowed a Snoop Dogg fart. She looked stoned into another dimension. Erykah floated on by like a cracked-out Pac-Man ghost and she tried to give Mario a little kiss. But because Mario is a reporter in NYC and is probably used to street trolls trying to screw with him at work, he pushed her away and kept going. Mario didn’t know that he pushed away Erykah Badu, but his wife was watching from a few feet away and knew his ass just got Badu’d.
Mario twatted this afterward:
@fatbellybella I get it because… "Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with I just want your extra time and your….. kiss"
— Mario Diaz (@MarioPIX11) June 28, 2014
— Mario Diaz (@MarioPIX11) June 28, 2014
@fatbellybella After she figured out what really happened she laughed and said, "Great taste." Next time I won't do the NYC push back.
— Mario Diaz (@MarioPIX11) June 28, 2014
Erykah Badu should stick to whatever strain of weed she smoked before she tried to kiss bomb Mario, because it’s doing good things to her. It’s so much better than whatever strain of weed she smoked before her crazy ass said that “racist gays” were the only ones criticizing her for performing for a dictator. And well, if you’re going to get trolled at work, you might as well get trolled by a stoned Erykah Badu wearing Farrah Abraham’s butt plug on her head.
TRUE BLOOD SPOILER ALERT: But really, if you haven’t watched last night’s episode, then this is probably a spoiler that your down low parts want to be alerted to.
Bless the genius soul who shouted, “HOT GAY SEX!“, during a meeting when all the other producers and writers asked, “How in the hell are we going to fix this mess of a show?” Hot gay sex is always the answer to every single question. Some True Blood watchers are probably picking dried panty pudding nuggets out of their carpet this morning, because a quick minute into last night’s episode, HBO became the gay Skinemax channel and it was beautiful. Jason Stackhouse (Side note: Jason Stackhouse could totally play a young Dubya in a gay porn parody) had another gay wet dream and his latest one starred Panty Creamer Hall of Famer and giant viking vampire sex god Eric.
If every TV in the world shut down and stopped working, it would be okay, because the greatest scene in the history of television has aired and all the TV people can go home now. Their jobs are done. Someone said on another blog that the scene was completely unnecessary and totally pandering, but they need to be slapped twice across the face with the definition of “unnecessary,” because that Sean Cody with mood lighting scene was completely necessary. Ask all the slobbering v-holes and b-holes out there. There was even a major plot twist. Jason is a top!
Thank you to everyone who took part in creating the camera. Thank you to everyone who took part in creating HBO. Thank you to everyone who took part in creating ASkars. And I even want to thank everyone who took part in creating that cheesy background music. Because together, they created this beautiful, beautiful fanfiction come-to-life scene that is relevant to all of my interests. The only way it could’ve been better is if a naked Alcide busted through the wall and he and Eric spit roasted Jason. I’m sure the writers are saving that for the finale. Keep the pandering coming!
And it would be a perfect season if every episode was full of nothing but Jason’s wet dreams. Correction: It would be a perfect season if one episode showed Soooookeh and Beeeehl dying slow deaths and the rest of the episodes were full of nothing but Jason’s wet dreams.
The only video I found on YT is drowning in music, so it’s best if you watch it on mute with a tub of lube by your side.
Nobody knows when this happened or if it’s a staged hoax (which I wouldn’t doubt since the Internet does nothing but spit lies right in our faces!), but apparently it did happen in real-life. I can bust out 1,000 words about the history of Shauna Sand’s exquisite lucite heels, but words escaped my brain when I watched this. At a Marlins game in Miami recently (I think), the fan cam panned through the stands and when this little kid realized he was on the Jumbotron, he pulled up his shirt, stuck out his tongue and served up a scene that made an executive from The CW sit up in their chair and say, “Hmmm, I’m seeing a one-hour drama about Bat Boy moving to Las Vegas to be the head choreographer of Chippendales. Greenlight it!”
And it looks like that little Indian sweet move machine from that video all of us have seen a thousand times has been reincarnated as a young Marlins fan. .
via HuffPo (Thanks to everyone who sent this in)