And she might’ve sucked out his eyeballs too. That’s the way a troll really says “I love you.”
The Daily Mail posted pictures of 28-year-old Mary-Kate Olsen wearing a plain band on her finger instead of the vintage engagement ring she pulled off of a confederate window’s skeletal hand while scavenging through graves like she does most nights. The pictures of MK and her 45-year-old French banker fiancé Olivier Sarkozy were taken a few days ago in the Hamptons. A “well-connected” source tells Lucky Magazine that the sneakiest troll who always asks you the hardest riddles when you try to cross the bridge and The Brain’s human twin ARE married. But another source tells Gossip Cop that MK and Olivier haven’t gotten married yet.
WHO TO BELIEVE?!
I sort of believe Lucky’s “well-connected source” (who is obviously Mary-Kate’s big-mouthed, do-gooder great uncle Ernest J. Keebler) because everyone but George Clooney’s extra ass is getting secret married. Getting secret married is the thing to do. My mouth is getting secret married to a pepperoni Hot Pocket as I type this. But I also believe Gossip Cop’s source. We would know it right away if a Trollsen got married. Every time a shifty troll from the dark part of the Enchanted Forest gets married, their reception has a huge spread full of squirrel nails, brow hair from toddlers and bear teeth. So I won’t believe it until I go outside and see a squirrel with acrylic nails, a toddler with painted on Sharpie brows and Khloe Kardashian adjusting her dentures.
That woman on the left who looks like she’s heaving, crying and laughing at the same time… That’s probably your reaction to all of this.
Last December, the small woodland creatures of the forest all scurried to find a safe hiding place, because they heard that 27-year-old Mary-Kate Olsen was going to get engaged to her 44-year-old French boyfriend Olivier Sarkozy and they knew she’d have to catch them to sacrifice them during the matrimonial ceremony. Well, those woodland creatures better not come out of their hiding places, because UsWeekly says that MK is really engaged to Nicolas Sarkozy’s Easter Island statue-looking ass half-brother. Some source says that after being together for two years, Olivier put a ring from Neil Lane Junior on MK’s finger and everyone’s happy about it. Her family loves him and his little kids love her, and probably because they can wear her clothes. The source spit this out:
“Mary-Kate has made him a better father. She remembers all the kids’ special events. She thinks he’s a great dad. Mary-Kate’s family thinks Olivier is the best thing to happen to her. They love him.”
Olivier Sarkozy looks like the hardest and most evil boss in a sci-fi video game from the 1990s and Mary-Kate Olsen looks like Super Mario is going to jump on her head at any moment, so they’re perfect for each other. Whores always complain about their age difference, but to me, MK has always looked like a 12-year-old girl whose body was possessed by an elderly French witch, so they make sense to me.
And if they ever have kids together, DAMN. I feel for that doctor’s hands, because that baby is going to be ALL forehead. That doctor’s going to keep pulling and pulling and all that’s going to come out of MK’s little body is forehead and more forehead. It’s going to look like a magician pulling a never-ending scarf out of a top hat.
…it was nice of the French Big Bad Wolf to show that Blind Mouse some affection before eating it.
Page Six says that the daughter of the Death Eaters, Mary-Kate Olsen, might be somebody’s wife soon, because she was seen trolling for huge diamond engagement rings at Neil Lane in Los Angeles recently. 27-year-old MKO and her 44-year-old French piece, Olivier Sarkozy, have been creeping bitches out with their love for about a year now and they are ready to join dark forces. Some source says that for the past three weeks, MKO has slithered into Neil Lane by herself to look at hitchin’ rings and she knows exactly what she wants:
“Mary-Kate has been seen several times in the last three weeks checking out huge engagement rings at the Neil Lane store. She really likes cushion-cut diamonds, and all of the rings she has looked at are over 5 carats. She has narrowed it down, but still hasn’t made a final decision.”
The source went on to say that several Neil Lane salespeople had to check into the nearest mental hospital, because every time MKO stood on five yellow pages in front of the glass counter and ran her claw along all the rings while cooing, “my precious….” to herself, a chill froze their souls and they were never the same again.
This story doesn’t make any sense. Why would MKO go shopping for her own ring and why would she go to Neil Lane? Olivier Sarkozy obviously knows MKO well enough to know that her dream engagement ring has a band made of the bones of babies and a hallowed out stone that holds the souls of virgin Muggles. She’s old-fashioned like that. MKO wasn’t at Neil Lane to buy her own ring. MKO was at Neil Lane to buy a beautiful diamond ring that she’ll use to lure the virgin princess into her cave so she can suck the youth out of that trick and stay looking like a 12-year-old. That’s it!
In Fargo, ND, a woman known only as Cheryl (how Madonna of you) has decided to take it upon herself this Halloween to teach fatties not to be fatties anymore by handing out letters of concern instead of candy. Wait, I’m sorry; she’s still handing out candy, just not to the fat kids. So if you’re dressed up as present-day Jennifer Hudson, you’re going home with a Fun Size Baby Ruth, but if you’re dressed up as Dreamgirls Jennifer Hudson, you’re going home with an 8.5×11 sheet of paper. Happy Halloween!!
In a Y-94 morning radio interview, Cheryl called in to express how concerned she is with all the overweight neighbourhood kids, and how it’s “really irresponsible of parents to send them out looking for free candy just ’cause all the other kids are doing it”. Every dentist in Fargo just breathed a sigh of relief knowing that giving out mini tubes of toothpaste no longer makes them the shittiest house on the street.
Cheryl got greedy and spilled the beans on her diabolical obesity-curing plan too early by calling in to Y-94 to brag about how above-it-all she is. Now along with a bunch of humiliated fat kids shuffling down her driveway with notes in hand, she’s going to have a line-up of parents ready to crumple that letter up into a ball and fire it back at her face. And that’s if she’s lucky! Cheryl might want to invest in some good rubber boots, because that radio station interview has given the neighbourhood kids plenty of time to match her paper-for-paper and leave flaming paper bags of dog shit on her doorstep.
It goes without saying that Cheryl is a human piece of garbage, but I will say this: that actual, physical letter wrapped me up in a warm blanket of nostalgia, and I love it. The CorelDRAW jack-o-lantern jpg from 1994 tells me this letter was most likely printed on Continuous form paper, and if you take out every reference to obesity or food and replace it with words like ‘Godless’ and ‘Path to Salvation‘, then you’d have the exact same letter that was handed out every Halloween by my born-again Christian bus driver in elementary school. Ah, those were the days.
Because we’re living in a not right and totally unjust society where it’s actually illegal to turn your car into a death machine by driving while plastered and the cops won’t always let you go if you give them a sloppy handy in the back of their car, White Oprah was charged with a DWI over a week ago and she was in court on Long Island today to answer to those charges. And she brought along my favorite character from Lindsay Lohan’s happy fun time court days: MARK HELLER!
White Oprah’s checking account is about as empty as her head, but good thing for her, Mark Heller is the kind of shady bridge troll who works for the toe nails of children and she has a few children who can grow those, so it’s a win/win for everyone! Mark and White Oprah played it extremely subtle by showing up to court in a chauffeured Rolls Royce. White Oprah pleaded not guilty, because Lohans are allergic to taking responsibility for their shit and because Mark Heller thinks that the judge may fall for the “it was a black kid in a White Oprah costume” defense.
TMZ says that White Oprah was released back into civilization without bail, but the court took her drivers license away.
I’m sure White Oprah will be vindicated! Mark Heller will successfully argue that yes, White Oprah blew a 0.20 on the Breathalyzer, but her blood alcohol level is always twice the legal limit. Bitch was born with a 0.20 blood alcohol level. She’s just always drunk. And besides, what judge will rule against a fancy lawyer who looks like a miniaturized Henry Wrinkler-on-the-barbie and carries a really fancy Louis Vuitton briefcase. You know a ho is serious when he’s carrying a Louis Vuitton briefcase. Fun fact: Mark’s Louis Vuitton briefcase is actually a regular-sized wallet and they put a handle on it especially for him. Bitch has got it like that.
And yes, I’m squeeing thinking of all the cute, little legal documents he’s got in that little briefcase.
Well, one way to get people talking about your ass on Twitter is to go on TV and look like you’re sitting on a toilet and trying to figure out how shitting works while your body has been paralyzed from eating 5 pot brownies. Eminem was on ESPN’s Michigan-Notre Dame halftime show yesterday to promote the video for his single “Berzerk” and he trolled those hos by acting like John Travolta in a field of vaginas. Don’t make ANY sudden moves or the vaginas may jump at you.
It must be the year 2000 again since Eminem’s got that Slim Shady hair and is giving awkward interviews, so I’m going to go watch a brand new episode of Cleopatra 2525 while drinking Pepsi Twist.
Kanye Kardashian (née West) queefed out this American Psycho short shit show to promote Yeezus and I’ve never been attacked with a chainsaw by Patrick Bateman while a starving rat ate cheese out of my culito, but I have a feeling that’s less painful than watching this wretched turd. Everybody (including my dumb ass) who said that Scott Isadick needs to play Patrick Bateman in some form needs to slap themselves with a Huey Lewis CD for putting that idea into the universe, because now that nightmare has come true. Scott’s acting is so damn awful that he makes the “walrus coming out of a long coma” moans that Kim Kartrashian makes in her sex tape seem like they came from an actual human who feels real human emotions. Yes, Scott brutally murders Jonathan Cheban (aka the troll that Khloe Kardashian found hiding in a tree hole while she was out hunting for deer one night), but even that can’t save this mess.
Scott’s voice gets so high at the end that it sounds like Pimp Mama Kris is grabbing his nutsack with her demon claw and slowing pulling it out by the root. He sounds like Mickey Mouse getting castrated. And yes, a castrated Mickey Mouse would make a better Patrick Bateman than Scott Disick.
Whenever I see pictures from ~fashun~ events, a cold sense of fear covers my body and a creepier, a cappella version of the Troll Song crawls into my ears, because Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen are usually there together looking like two giddy, little evil bridge urchins who are about to ask you to solve an unsolvable riddle. But a strange thing happened at the CFDA Fashion Awards in NYC last night. Ashley Olsen was not there!
Did an enchanted forest giant accidentally stomp on Ashley while she was collecting mushrooms to make a potion with? Was she a guest at that red wedding shit? Did Gandalf get her when she was trying to snatch Bilbo Baggins with her fellow goblins? Did her housekeeper once again mistake her for a greasy hairball that fell out of a cat’s mouth and vacuum her up? Whatever the case may be, Ashley Olsen was not there last night. Ashley and MK’s younger sister Elizabeth Olsen showed up in her place and made the face anybody would make if they had to pose next to a Trollsen while dressed like a warlock priest.
Elizabeth Olsen tried, but she just can’t prune as good as her sisters can. What’s really disturbing is that Mary-Kate can prune even when Ashley isn’t next to her. I thought their prune powers were only activated when they were standing next each other? I guess not. We should all be scared by this.
Here’s a few pictures from last night’s CFDA Fashion Awards, which are like the Golden Globes to the Met Gala’s Oscars. In order after the Olsens: Miranda Kerr, Zang Toi (wearing Kanye West’s next stage outfit), Betsey Johnson, Sofia Vergara, Nicole Richie, Ethan Hawke, Michelle Harper (thank the lord a Kardashian wasn’t there or they would’ve fucked that black rod on Michelle’s head), Zachary Quinto, Jessica Chastain, Linda Evangelista, Ireland Baldwin, Karolina Kurkova, Adriana Lima, Juliette Lewis, Jess from Girls (bitch, you ain’t Martha Graham), Rooney Mara and Kerry Washington.
In “I Can’t Believe This Shit Didn’t Come From The Onion” news, a few One Direction fans have been tweeting death threats to this adorable puppy named Loki. No, Loki isn’t Harry Styles’ new girlfriend. Those crazy children are wishing death upon this innocent puppy, because Liam Payne bought him with his girlfriend Danielle Peazer. This is some Fatal Attraction shit, which is weird, since most of those crazed One Directioners weren’t even a sperm fish when Fatal Attraction came out.
Metro says that shortly after Liam Payne introduced Loki to his 9 million Twitter followers, the hate and death threats started pouring in. A few One Directioners, who obviously didn’t get enough spoonfuls of crushed Xanax in their jar of banana baby food, let Liam know that they don’t like him raising a puppy with Danielle Peazer, because it means he’ll have less time to tweet with them. Here’s some death threat tweets to a puppy that’ll make you feel really hopeful about our future:
And a couple more:
“I am outraged and appalled fucking Loki the dog! That dog ain’t nothing but the scum on my shoe”
“Let’s kill him! Gun? Knife?”
You know you need to set the parental controls on your child’s laptop to MAXIMUM when they tweet death threats at a puppy for stealing their man. They’re going to start tweeting death threats to every spoon Liam uses, because he’s sticking his tongue on it instead of them.
To paraphrase a quote from prolific philosopher Taylor Swift: There’s a special place in hell for people who wish death upon a puppy….and that special place in hell doesn’t have WiFi or cell phone service. You’re all grounded!
Almost two years ago, a dark cloud covered the Enchanted Forest and all the woodland creatures cried for days after their favorite Jolly Ukrainian Giant and the golden child of Rosie Cotton and Ernest J. Keebler broke up. But the dark clouds have cleared up and the woodland creatures are farting up rainbow-colored hearts again, because 5’2″ Hayden Panettiere and 6’6″ Wladimir Klitschko are back together again.
The other day, that human mountain of rock hard hotness Wladimir worked a hard stick on the ocean while Hayden walked her dog (which I’m assuming is a teacup mouse dog since she can pick it up) near his condo in Hollywood, FL. People says that after Wladimir impressed dolphin activist Hayden by head butting a killer shark until it dropped a dolphin from its mouth, he took her to the Taco Beach Shack near his condo. A source says that Wladimir and Hayden had 8 mahi mahi tacos, a Coke and a margarita, and he left a $20 tip on a $20 bill. (Yes, the REAL story here is that they got 8 mahi mahi tacos, a coke and a margarita for only $20!)
Hayden and Wladimir have always been one of my favorite couples. Nothing pleases me more like picturing her climb up his hood rock of a body for a kiss the same way a tiny, adorable monkey climbs up a palm tree for a coconut. When they take a shower together and she accidentally slips down the drain, he can scoop her out with his pinky finger. Hayden has to stretch for at least 4 hours and they have to use Pilates equipment when they try to 69. I am not ashamed to admit that I love their Jolly Green Giant and Little Sprout union. But I am really ashamed to admit that: a) I watch Nashville and; b) Hayden’s my favorite thing about Nashville.
I felt an ugly kind of shame when I clicked “buy” after the iTunes pop-box asked me something like, “You are about to download the song ‘Love Like Mine,’ are you sure?“