Dear Meryl Streep, Jennifer Lawrence and all the other actresses who think they have a shot at the Best Actress Oscar in 2015, use your campaign money to buy a cup of the sweet nectar to drown your sorrows in, because the category is closed and no submissions will be accepted. The 2014 Oscars haven’t even happened yet, but the Academy is already engraving Spaz de la Huerta’s name on a 2015 Best Actress trophy after seeing her riveting, game-changing and ALIVE performance in the trailer for Nurse 3D. Not since Lumiere in Beauty in the Beast has a melting candle delivered such powerful emotion onscreen. I don’t know if Nurse 3D is actually in 3D or if they’re referring to Spaz’s multi-dimensional performance which jumps out of the screen, holds you down and leaves Vaseline skid marks all over your face.
Nurse 3D is like Single White Female meets Fatal Attraction meets Basic Instinct meets Sophie’s Choice (I’m referring to Spaz’s luminous and emotion-stirring performance which critics will compare to Meryl’s). In Nurse 3D, Spaz plays a greasy wax mannequin who comes to life (I made that part up, I think), becomes a nurse and stalks her bland blonde co-worker played by Katrina Bowden. Somewhere in there, Nurse Spaz also seduces cheating men and murders them. It also stars Kathleen Turner, Judd Nelson and that kid from High School Musical and Dancing with the No Stars. I don’t think I’m being at all crazy or ridiculous when I say that this is going to be the greatest movie that ever happened!
Here’s the future Oscar winner looking like the bloated, oily calla lily she is while leaving a store with her man in L.A. the other night. Her man is totally a poet by day and a 1970s serial killer by night.
I know I always giving James Franco shit for thinking he’s the savior of the art world who gets up every morning, takes a first-thing turd in the toilet, frames the toilet and then charges tourists $20 to stare at it and take pictures in front of it, but I have to give credit where credit is due. James Franco and Seth Rogen watched Kanye West’s diarrhea puddle of pure comedy that is “Bound 2” and knew that it was missing was some pure, raw sex and scattered back hair. So on the set of the movie they’re doing together, James and Seth remade that mess shot-for-shot.
James perfectly captures the “my nostrils are choking on the hot, stank bullshit spewing out of my mouth” look that Kanye makes in the original (“Um, I’m making my normal face” – James Franco) and Seth brings an innocent sexiness and demure femininity that Kim failed to bring. And kudos to Seth for proudly letting his back hair blow in the wind instead of lasering it off before the shoot like that fake whore Kim did. Seth’s hairy tits look spectacular and you can almost feel James Franco sticking it in when Seth arches his back. While Kim and Kanye have the on-screen chemistry of Jodie Foster and Richard Gere, Seth and James’ chemistry is so hot that if you put your ear to the screen, you can hear Seth leaking as his asshole gets extra moist. And the “there’s jizz in my eyes but I’m still going to try to look like a demure flower” look that Seth makes at the 1:14 mark should earn him a Khroma Kosmetics kontract.
It’s funny, because without all the plastic surgery, tucking, plucking and waxing, Kim would look just like Seth Rogen. And for a supposedly straight dude, James Franco gets way more hot gay action than I do.
Here’s the original, which is actually funnier than the parody.
The Heidi Klum you see on Project Runway and those pube-pulling annoying Jordache commercials is actually an animatronic robot with a German accent. Because on November 1st, the real Heidi Klum hooks herself up to an IV drip full of Ensure, slides into a make-up chair/toilet and spends the next 364 days getting into prosthetics and make-up for the next Halloween. For some of us, Halloween is just another holiday where we can drunkenly run the streets in nothing but a crotch patch and nipple tassels without getting arrested. But for Heidi Klum, Halloween IS life!
For her Halloween party in NYC last night, the HallowQueen memaw-fied herself, and she says that she went as an old lady, but I’m pretty sure she went as a SANS FARDS and SANS BOTOX Lindsay Lohan. Heidi nailed it as always. Heidi can HAHAHAHA at her turkey jerky neck and all the memaw spots on her face, because bitch is never going to look like this. Because in Hollywood, “aging gracefully,” involves getting your body reupholstered and replacing all the blood in your veins with fillers.
And I waited to post these, because I wanted to include the open letter that AARP will eventually write to Heidi. Because OLDFACE is not funny. Memaws and pepaws are people. They are not costumes! But I’m guessing they haven’t written that letter yet, because they’re still sleeping off their hangovers. They all spent their Halloween night doing Metamucil and vodka shots off of each other’s turkey necks.
Here’s more of Memaw Heidi and other hos at her Halloween party.
Here’s Mama June and her band of deep fried balls of butter as Lucifer’s favorite whores the Kardashians. I know you’re looking at these pictures and wondering why they all went as Khloe, but they’re all different Kartrashians. Uncle Poodle and Mama June are Kim, Honey Boo Boo is Pimp Mama Kris, Chubbs is Khloe, Chickadee is Kourtney, Sugar Bear is Bruce and Pumpkin is Scott Isadick.
If the Kardashians had souls, had butter running through their veins instead of the black blood of Satan and were filled with cheese balls instead of Botox, this is exactly what they would look like. It’s perfect and a million times better than the real thing. If being the Sketti Sauce Queen of Georgia doesn’t work out for Mama June, she should be Kim Kardashian’s double. If she perfected the whole “dead-eyed whore” look, she’d be a dead ringer.
And Sugar Bear needed to stuff his tank top and wear a mask of fried bologna to fully nail Bruce Jenner. Honestly, Mama June’s Forklift Foot should’ve been Bruce.
The last time I found a member of the shellfish family floating in my tub, I was not happy to see that bitch, because it meant I had to take my ass to Walgreens to buy another box of RID. Did you know that with every purchase of a box of RID you get a complimentary judgmental glare from the Walgreens cashier ringing you up?
But you know, I wouldn’t be pissed about getting crotch crustaceans if every crotch crustacean had a face like Sir Patrick Stewart’s. The world would be a much happier place if you saw Patrick Stewart’s face smiling at you when you looked down at your crotch bush after getting an itch. Getting crotch crustaceans would be a fucking happy occasion if they all looked like this!
And Patrick Stewart’s looking at us like he wants us to provide the drawn better. Wink wink. Happy Hallowpeen from Sir Patrick Lobster!
This morning, I woke up to the most terrifying, horrific headline that made me almost let go of the empty bottle of red wine I spoon with and jump out of bed to rent a U-Haul, drive to Trader Joe’s and buy all the cases of Two-And-A-Half-Buck Chuck. The headline was:
But then I came across another headline that instantly healed me and gave me a buzz. Who needs wine when you can get happy drunk on a video of Guy Fieri having a whiny, screechy, slap fight with his hair stylist.
TMZ says that the throbbing boil on an albino porcupine’s ass was boozing with his hairdresser Ariel Ramirez on a flight to San Francisco International Airport on Saturday. When they landed, they both got into an SUV and were about to drive home when for some reason, they got into a fight and took each other to SlapDown Town. There was drama! There was theater! There was slapping! There was screaming! There were tears! There was anguish!
That video is my new favorite pick-me-up. Ariel sounds exactly like a drunken 21-year-old me screaming at my boyfriend outside of a gay bar after accusing him of throwing sex eyes at another trick.
Eventually, Guy’s manager took a weeping Ariel home in a cab. A source tells TMZ that Ariel and Guy were just “dudes being dudes.” Guy told TMZ that it was just “a bunch of guys messing around. Things got a little out of hand, but they’re all good now.” Yeah, a good old-fashioned bro brawl IS a peroxide-headed TV cook having a slappy, scream fight with his personal hair stylist.
There’s so much to be said about this. It’s really hard for me to believe that a hairdresser gets paid to travel around the country with Guy and do that to his hair. I thought he bleached that mess himself and got his hair spiky like that by sticking a deep fried zesty mozzarella stick up his ass. But I am more than happy that Ariel travels with Guy, because if he didn’t, they never would’ve gotten into this lovers spat at the airport and it never would’ve been captured on camera. They really need their own reality show called Dudes Being Dudes.
And Guy must’ve been tanked, because if he was sober, he would’ve screamed, “Not the hair, bitch, not the hair,” as Ariel slapped at him.
Admit it. You wanted to cartwheel into school, your place of employment, the grocery store, the Chuck E. Cheese ball pit or your dearly departed Grandma’s funeral wearing this sold out Morphsuit covered in pictures of Nicolas Cage. You wanted to make 497 Vines of yourself wearing it while quoting his movies. You wanted to spend a whole nine seconds perfecting your imitation of his accent in Con Air, then go trick or treating and say, “I said put the bunny back in the box” when your neighbor answered their doors. You wanted to wear it while fapping to that fucked up Nicolas Cage playing John Travolta playing Nicolas Cage mess Face/Off. You wanted to show up to the set of National Treasure 3 with the hope of introducing the real Nic Cage to the train hobo looking one on your crotch and asking him to autograph it right there.
After I typed that headline, my brain queefed up the image of Tom Hiddleston as Tom Hiddleston giving it to Owen Wilson as Owen Wilson gives it Tom Hiddleston as Loki. I can fap to that.
During an interview with Popcorn Taxi, Tom was asked by an audience member to do an impersonation of Owen Wilson (Side note: Tom worked with Owen on Midnight in Paris) doing an impersonation of Loki, because why not? Tom’s Owen as Loki is kind of like a constipated Woody Allen talking with a peen in his mouth. In other words, he nailed it. Tom should watch out, though. He should never EVER do his Owen Wilson impersonation outside. Because if he does, a married personal trainer will mistake him for the real Owen Wilson and slap at him for missing a child support payment.
I wasn’t planning to see Lars Von Trier’s 5-hour-long CGI torture porn Nymphomaniac, because I’m afraid that watching 5 hours of Lars Von Trier’s idea of arty porn is going to make my gonads completely dry up and die. But now I really don’t need to see it after my eyeballs have laid themselves on the posters of each character hilariously jizzing. I just want to print them all out and wallpaper my front door with them, because this messy shit will keep all visitors away!
If you’ve always wanted to see Shia LaDouche, Christian Slater, Alexander Skarsgard’s daddy and Uma Thuman cum all artistic-like, your wish has been granted. Some of the slightly NSFW-ish posters (via ONTD) are after the cut. Warning: Most of these O faces look like OhImPushingOutThisShitHard face.
The best part of the Emmys is going to be tomorrow’s HSOTD, but here’s the second best part of this shit. A dude who I thought was an even skinnier Jonah Hill stole the spotlight from Neil Patrick Harris when he got caught in a shot and smoothly side-stepped out of the shot. This is some graceful and smooth shit. I’m surprised he didn’t try to disappear into the background. Vulture says that the ultra smooth side stepper is Paul Greenberg of Reno 911. Most of me knows that this was some STUNT QUEEN shit that was planned by producers and a little part of me hopes this was a real and authentic awkward moment. Whatever the case may be, this moment should still win Best Choreography at next year’s Emmys. At least half of the Kartrashians fainted on the floor at the sight of someone actually trying to get away from the camera.
Gawker has the video of this perfect awkward moment.