Three shocking things happened last night:
1. I fell into a red wine and cheese and peanut butter crackers-induced coma on my bed and House Hunters International was NOT playing on my TV. This hasn’t happened in months and no wonder I had sex nightmares that involved Chris Brown. House Hunters International always lulls me into a peaceful sleep.
2. Brit Brit Spears opened up her mouth and actual words produced by her voice box came out.
3. Brit Brit Spears’ mic was actually turned on during her show in Las Vegas.
Everything you thought you knew about the world was flipped, flopped and fucked sideways last night when Brit Brit spoke and everybody heard it because her mic was actually live. Both Digital Spy and TMZ says that during her Piece Of Me show at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas last night, some messy trick in the audience called her a “fat bitch.” It was probably that Utz Girl. Trick is still pissed that Brit Brit chose Chester Cheetah as her main boo. You know that Utz Girl can hold a grudge and you know how she gets when she’s drunk. Brit heard the heckler, which is also surprising, because I didn’t think she paid attention during her shows. I just thought she moved her lips, waved her arms and thought about where she’s going to make Daddy Spears take her for ice cweam afterward.
Brit Brit launched a beautiful fuck word at the hater and her mic was on so everyone heard. The mic being on was probably a mistake. That’s some Robert Durst shit and it gave us this beautiful moment:
Kudos to the person who acted fast and brought Brit Brit’s hard drive out of sleep mode by moving her wireless mouse around. Now this is the Our Lady of Cheetos I love. More of this. But she didn’t really need to say anything since she already won. That fat bitch already got that heckler’s MONAY!
Here’s Brit Brit giving you Softer Side of Sears glamour at one of the Cheetolings’ soccer game a few days ago.
On The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon last night, Jimmy played a completely spontaneous and totally unrehearsed game of random musical impressions with the yodeling bronzer stick in a white wig we call Xtina. Xtina’s Samantha Jones impersonation could win her the first place trophy at the Snatch Game Grand Championship, so it’s no surprise that she can spit out pretty good impersonations. Xtina did Cher, Shakira and Brit Brit last night.
Xtina’s Shakira impression didn’t cause a herd of horny goats to break through the door and hump her mouth, so she doesn’t get many points for that one. But her Cher was pretty spot-on and after she opened her mouth to impersonate fellow Mouseketeer Brit Brit Spears, Cheetos dust, gas station fumes, Frapp foam and KFed’s jizz filled my ears. And yes, since KFed’s jizz filled my ears, my head is pregnant with triplets now.
If you really want to see Jimmy Fallon’s David Bowie and Michael McDonald impersonations, watch the whole thing. But if you’re only here to see Xtina get possessed by the spirit of Our Lady of Cheetos circa 1999, skip to the 1:45 mark in the video below:
It’s perfect. If Brit Brit ever needs a ghost singer, she knows who to call.
If Xtina was doing old-school Brit Brit, then I’d easily give her 5 out of 5 Cheetos:
But if Xtina was doing new-school Brit Brit, then I can only give her half a Cheeto and that’s being generous:
Because if she wanted to do new-school Brit Brit, she’d move her mouth for a little bit before giving up halfway to eat hot wings.
And I posted one or two of these yesterday, but here’s more of Xtina at the Vanity Fair Oscar party doing an impersonation of Double Trouble from She-Ra at a quickie wedding in Reno.
Being a gracious loser is so overrated and life’s too short to not snatch a crown right off of a trick’s head. The runner-up of Miss Amazonas 2015 knows what I’m talking about and when she lost the main prize on Friday in Brazil, she won the title of Miss Fuck It 2015 when she yanked the crown off of the winner’s head.
The Guardian says that when Carol Toledo won the title of Miss Amazonas 2015, the other beauty queens put on manufactured smiles and pretended to be happy, but not the runner-up Sheislane Hayalla (that’s Portuguese for “Stay in your lane, bitch“). Sheislane hugged Carol at first, but then she couldn’t resist the urge to show those judges that she’s the real winner by displaying grace and elegance. After Carol Toledo was crowned, Sheislane Hayalla pulled her crown off, threw it on the floor and sashayed away while screaming something in Portuguese as the contestant in yellow clapped for her. I like that queen in yellow. She is the kind of friend who will hold your purse when you need to fight a bitch and fix your lipstick for you afterward.
Sheislane later apologized in a video and on Facebook, but said she didn’t regret crown-snatching a trick, because she wanted to show everyone that money shouldn’t be able to buy you everything. Sheislane believes Carol’s win was bought.
“I wanted to express my disapproval of the actions in the preparations for Miss Amazonas 2015. I do not regret having protested. I believe I have planted change in this great contest. I wanted something clean and honest.”
Well, Sheislane could be removed as runner-up and Carol is going on to represent her state in the Miss Brazil pageant, so I don’t know what kind of change she’s talking about. Maybe she means that next year pageant officials will Super Glue that crown onto the head of the chick who bought it so her rival can’t rip it off. I do love a good crown-snatching and I want to slow clap while giving Sheislane a standing ovation, but I can’t. That was some sloppy work. She really should’ve trained with Miss Wig Snatcher Brazil 2009. When you snatch a trick’s crown, you need to silently creep up on her like a ninja and snatch that tiara and her hair in one swoop before disappearing into the darkness.
YES! That is how it’s done. Scalp that bitch and leave her practically bald.
Ageless Romney Girl and FOX News contributor Stacey Dash, who was never drugged by Bill Cosby FYI, celebrated her 48th birthday on Tuesday and Instagrammed this picture from her big blowout. Judging by that picture alone, the only people who showed up to her party were the lone mariachi guy she hired and the assistant who took the picture. I guess her party’s theme was Forever Alone. In Stacey’s caption of her birthday picture, she wished herself a happy birthday and reminded everyone that’s it’s January with a hashtag:
Thank you Lord for another year Happy Birthday to me (and to everyone that shares 1/20 God Bless you) #happybirthday #staceydash #January
That picture looks like a still from the Twin Peaks reboot. This picture has all the ingredients for a beautiful work of art from the lone mariachi chilling under that archway to that tiara from Big Lots on Stacey’s head to that weird cake candelabra to the discount last call children’s birthday cake from Albertson’s. That cake looks like all the Care Bear diarrhea’d on it. If you replaced that mariachi guy with my mom, Stacey with me and that struggle cake with a He-Man cake, that picture would look like it was taken at my lonely ass 6th birthday party.
And I didn’t think it was possible, but Stacey Dash managed to snatch away the title of Loneliest Birthday Party Picture from Kirk Cameron.
A Birthday cake candelabra and a lone mariachi are the new Subway sandwich and sad lady hovering in the doorway.
If at the end of the Miss Universe pageant, all of the losers took off their heels and beat Donald Trump with them, that would be the best part of the entire competition. That doesn’t happen, so the best part of the pageant is the National Costume contest, which went down in Miami last night.
Dozens of beauty queens from around the world risked breaking their necks, cracking their shoulder bones and pulling their back muscles while carrying forty tons of glitter-covered fuckery on their bodies. The National Costume contest is the competition that separates the queens who don’t give a shit and bought their costume at a Party City on Biscayne from the queens who go all out and let their patriotic fuckery flag fly high. Case in point: Miss Canada who gave us Canada’s answer to the legendary low-budget Transformers costume from Miss USA in 2013.
Allison should be proud of her home country today, because they broke the budget by throwing as much props as possible on top of Miss Canada. If Marie Antoinette moved to Canada, fell in love with a hockey-obsessed traveller and married him, this is what she would wear on her wedding day and that wedding would be featured on an episode of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. She looks like the queen in The Sports Network’s version of Game of Thrones called Game of Hockey Sticks. The only way this costume could’ve been more hockey crazy is if she shot pucks out of her crotch at the judges. Yes, Miss Canada’s spine is probably broken now, but I’m sure she’ll look stunning in her bedazzled body cast when they wheel her onto the stage at the Miss Universe pageant to accept a bouquet of roses for winning Best National Costume.
I put over 30 costumes after the cut. I put them after the cut instead of in a gallery, because you can burn some calories by scrolling. And if you scroll really fast, you’ll know what it feels like to ride through the It’s A Small World ride on a speed boat while high on acid. Hunger Games Tribute realness ahead!
I watch a lot of HSN and QVC (No, I don’t buy any of that crap! Ignore that pile in the corner of WEN by Chaz Dean hair products and Huggable Hangers.), so I’m used to the crazy and hilarious dumb stuff that comes out of their mouth as they try to sell useless shit to stoned gays (GUILTY!), insomniac memaws and lonely housewives. It’s understandable since they always have to keep their mouths moving, but this shit that happened earlier this week is a beautiful train wreck of derp.
While selling some blouses that look like rags a bunch of Lisa Frank animals got their periods on, Isaac Mizrahi and QVC’s Shawn Killinger got into a debate on whether the moon is a planet or a star or whatever. Duh mun: HoW duz it werk? If this clip was their audition to take over from Neil deGrasse Tyson as the new hosts of Cosmos, they nailed that bitch! I hope this leads to them starring with Sherri Shepherd in an educational TV show about astronomy and evolution.
And in case you need it in text form:
Shawn: It almost kind of looks like what the earth looks like when you’re a bazillion miles away from the planet moon. The planet moon….. From the moon looking back at the earth.
Isaac: From the planet moon…..
Shawn: Isn’t the moon a star?
Isaac: (in his Auntie Mame accent) No, the moon is a planet, darling.
Shawn: The sun is a star. Is the moon really a planet? Don’t look at me like that! The sun is a star. Is the sun not a star?
Isaac: I don’t know what the sun is.
Shawn: The sun is a star, isn’t it? (After a producer says something into her ear) The moon is not a planet. I KNEW IT! You were trying to take me down that road.
Isaac: The moon is not a planet! Wait, excuse me, Chunky….
Those dum-dums! The moon is a planet and the sun is a star? HA! Everyone knows that the sun is a British baby and the moon is a sunglasses-wearing, piano-playing lounge singer. Embarrassing! They need to watch more 80s and 90s television so they can educate themselves right. And who is Chunky? Is Chunky a planet or a star?
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. »