The Look Or Not The Look: Piper Perabo’s Lizard Skin Wedding Dress And Her Husband’s Three-Piece Canadian Tuxedo
File under: “Girl You So Different And Edgy” and cross-file under: “Names Your Brain Hasn’t Thought About Since 2000.”
Piper Perabo, a member (along with Teri Polo and Leslie Bibb) of the All White Blonde Actresses Look The Same Club of the early 2000s and star of Coyote Ugly, Beverly Hills Chihuahua and Covert Affairs, got married to director, producer and Teri Snatcher’s ex Stephen Kay at the Merchant’s House Museum in NYC on Saturday afternoon. Apparently, Piper and Stephen were going for a New Orleans theme, so a band from New Orleans played them off as they walked out of the museum after getting married. Err, Piper Perabo’s idea of a New Orleans-style wedding is totally different than my idea of a New Orleans-style wedding. My idea of a New Orleans-style wedding is getting married by newlywed, flower of New Orleans and former HSOTD Ashley the Traffic Tranny in a sea of twerkers led by Big Freedia as New Orleans own Richard Simmons throws uncooked Zatarain’s on you. But that’s just me.
Piper Perabo’s idea of a New Orleans-themed wedding also includes wearing a dress that looks like a trout’s herpes breakout. Piper Perabo shit on the idea of a generic, boring, white wedding dress and instead wore some silver shit with a gold veil and her new husband wore a raggedy, busted, bought-at-the-Goodwill homeless dude suit that I’m telling myself was made out of denim. Piper and Stephen look like a mermaid with mercury poisoning who almost drowned after getting tangled in a bunch of dead seaweed and was rescued by a former hipster hobo who now works as an accountant for Burning Man. What I’m trying to say is, this IS the look.
And I really hope the band paid homage to Piper Perabo’s roots by playing Can’t Fight The Moonlight at her reception:
Remember when Falkor looked human-esque?
If you need more of the beaver pube patch on Stephen Kay’s chin, here it is at LAX last year.
A strange thing happened in Mexico yesterday. Adam Levine didn’t pick up one of his fiancee’s bridesmaids, do her in the bathroom and leave Behati Prinsloo on the altar before texting her these words, “Sorry, babe, found new coochie.” Adam Levine actually went through with it and married Victoria’s Secret model Behati Prinsloo at Flora Farms in Los Cabos, Mexico. Well, I guess Adam feels like the divorce rates aren’t high enough, so he’s doing his part to change that.
After being engaged for a year, the 35-year-old douche bottle full of lukewarm smugness married the 24-year-old South African panties model in front of 300 guests including Robert Downey Jr., Jonah Hill, Jason Segel, Coco Rocha, Candice Swanepoel and his Maroon 5 bandmates. ROBERT DOWNEY JR.?!!!! I know RDJ has been sober for a billion years, but reading about him being a guest at Adam Levine’s wedding makes me want to ask him, “Bitch, are you snorting up the bad shit again?” UsWeekly says that Behati’s bridesmaids were mostly Victoria’s Secret models, because Adam wanted a potential rebound close by in case he got cold feet. Behati wore a dress made for her by Marchesa and she and Adam asked their guests to give a donation to The Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles instead of giving them an ice cream maker they’ll never use. E! News has more riveting details:
Wedding festivities began Friday night, when 100 guests were shuttled from their hotel to El Dorado for a party on the beach that was set up in front of Mike Meldman’s home, a source told E! News exclusively.
Casually dressed attendees mingled at a large bar and relaxed with margaritas and wine. There was also lounge furniture situated on the beach, along with small tee pees for additional seating. Tables were adorned with red flowers, and once it got dark, candles and white twinkle lights were glowing.
But more importantly, Stevie Nicks was there as a “special guest” and she performed. The answer to the question, “WHY, STEVIE, FOR WHY???“, is probably, “Because she’s a mentor on The Voice and friends with Adam.” But if the real answer is, “Because she needs a check and that mortgage payment on her vacation house is due,” then Stevie should know that if she ever needs cash, she should just beg her fans for some on Kickstarter. It’s less embarrassing than performing at Adam Levine’s first pre-divorce ceremony.
But bitterness aside, congratulations to Adam Levine on getting his first wife, congratulations to divorce lawyers in the L.A. area who might have a new client in the near future and congratulations to Behati Prinsloo who I’m hoping married his ass without a prenup. And a pre-congratulations to the Instagram model who will one day soon make a quick dollar from The National Enquirer when she sells the pictures of Adam’s peen that he texted her before they boned in his dressing room at The Voice. Congratulations to them all!
IMPORTANT UPDATE THAT I’M SURE YOU CARE ABOUT: Here’s some pictures of Nina Agdal, the piece that Adam Levine dumped through a text message after he got engaged to Behati, crying onto the shoulder of some hot piece in Miami on Adam’s wedding day.
British pop star, current X-Factor UK judge, fired X-Factor US judge and Derek Hough’s former trial period beard, Cheryl Cole, is still putting the PhD in Good Decisions she earned from the University of Smart Thinking to good use. Cheryl Cole’s last marriage finally ended after her then husband Ashley Cole found it impossible to not stick his nomad dick in a vagina that wasn’t attached to his wife’s body. Ashley Cole kept dipping his dick in side piece after side piece and Cheryl Cole kept running back to him until she woke up one day and smelled the random snatch juice on his wandering peen. Since Cheryl Cole’s first marriage was a real shit show, she decided to give marriage another try and she’s decided to make a French playboy she met for the first time at a club in April her second husband. Maybe this is a viral marketing stunt for he song “Crazy Stupid Love“?
31-year-old Cheryl wrote on her website yesterday that she married her 33-year-old French boyfriend of 3 months Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini (You know bitch had to ask him three times how to spell his first name) on a beach in Mustique.
I USUALLY DO NOT DISCUSS MY PERSONAL LIFE BUT TO STOP THE SPECULATION I WANT TO SHARE MY HAPPY NEWS… JEAN-BERNARD AND I MARRIED ON 7/7/14.. ️ WE ARE VERY HAPPY AND EXCITED TO MOVE FORWARD WITH OUR LIVES TOGETHER..
Cheryl also posted a picture of the ring that Jean-Bernard probably bought at the finest Claire’s in France.
The Daily Mail says that Jean-Bernard is a “hard-partying” French playboy who lives on the Riviera and also has a home in the Caribbean. Jean-Bernard comes from a really rich family and he studied business at NYU. He runs a club and restaurant in the South of France and The New York Times once said he was part of a group of ”‘Eurotrash’ et-setters who had lots of money and just as much free time to enjoy it.”
So a millionaire British pop star with dry queefs for brains gets wooed by a sleazy and smarmy French playboy whose trust fund is bigger than the cellar of champagne he bathes in when he does bathe? Why would I not be surprised if Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini from the South of France is actually John Bernard Franklin from a poor family in Iowa who now makes his money swindling dumb rich hos in the South of France? Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is real.
Cheryl Cole marrying some dude she met a second ago isn’t even the dumbest thing she’s ever done. That title forever goes to the gigantic tattoo on Cheryl’s ass and back that looks like a bloody fungus that grew out of her butt and that doctors later tried to burn off. That tattoo is also the best decision Cheryl made, because whenever she makes yet another shitty decision, she can always say, “Well, that bad decision I just made wasn’t worse than the fug abomination on my back.”
Here’s Cheryl and Jean-Bernard, who kind of looks like a mash-up of Jared Leto and Michael Lucas, leaving the Chiltern Firehouse in May.
Even though their guests are still pooping out pieces of fondant from the wedding cake, the first pictures of shoe tycoon Jessica Simpson’s wedding to gold digger extraordinaire Eric Johnson have been released by People. Yes, they got married on Saturday and today is Wednesday. Her brain may be slower than a sloth on a broken treadmill, but when it comes to getting money, bitch is like Usain Bolt.
Since Jessica Simpson held back on the Texas Gum-Chewing Pageant Queen eleganza of her first marriage, and the fact that she chose to get married on Independence Day weekend, I was hoping she would have gone all out the second time around and sashayed down the aisle in a replica of the red, white, and blue taffeta gown Barbie wore when she ran for president in 1992. Instead, she picked a dress the same color as every bathroom on Property Brothers, rubbed it all over a bunch of pay phones and toilet seats, then stuck it in a damp corner of the basement under a pile of Jessica Simpson for Zales butterfly pendants, and waited for it to start growing silver bacteria. Looking at her dress makes me wanna grab the Lysol and a Silkwood shower.
Anyone who’s ever looked at a Jessica Simpson handbag and marvelled at the hand-painted top stitching knows that Jessica is a stickler for the details, so it’s no surprise she carried the bacterial outbreak theme through to her wedding portrait and asked the photographer to make it look like she’s been isolated in quarantine:
Jessica also told People: “It’s so surreal. This has been something we’ve wanted ever since we met” with Eric adding: “Hell yeah, can you blame me?? I’m rich, bitch!”
Seen above making a “YAS! I finally get to fuck!” face, the second oldest Duggar daughter, 23-year-old Jill Duggar, married her boyfriend Derick Dillard in Springdale, Arkansas yesterday. May her transformation into a non-stop fetus machine begin and that dude in the blue shirt knows we’re all about to drown in another mountain of Duggar babies.
Up until yesterday, Jill and Derick were only allowed to do the Christian side hug, because premarital crotch-touching fuels Lucifer’s evilness, and so they kissed and front-hugged for the first time in front of their 1,000 guests (half of which probably came out of Michelle Duggar’s popcorn popper pussy at one point or another). I haven’t watched an episode of 19 Kids and Counting in forever, because Michelle Duggar’s monotone baby voice gives me night terrors, but I may watch the episode that features Jill Duggar’s wedding for their first kiss alone. Jill and her new husband’s first kiss probably looked a lot like this “one zombie bird passing chewed-up human brains to another zombie bird” horror show:
Jill told People that her and Derick’s first kiss was everything and more:
As the couple departed the reception in a vintage pickup filled with balloons and decorated with the message “Just Married” printed on the rear window, the crowd started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and the newlyweds obliged.
The couple had saved their very first kiss for the moment they became man and wife – and the new Mrs. Dillard tells PEOPLE it is all working out.
“It was worth the wait,” she tells PEOPLE, beaming and grasping her new husband’s hand.
I’m sure she wasn’t grasping his hand. But of course the kiss was everything and more. A kiss with her own hand would’ve been everything and more. Poor Jill couldn’t even practice kissing with the back of a brush unless she went out on at least 12 supervised dates with that hairbrush and married it in front of GOD.
People says that 1,000 guests traveled from 30 states to watch Derick burn a hole in his chonies and pants by busting out the Halley’s Comet of jizz loads when he kissed Jill for the first time. You’d think that these two wouldn’t have a reception since Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar would want them to get to the baby-making action right away, but they did have a reception. Michelle tells People that the dessert tables at the reception were covered with 600 cupcakes, 3,000 chocolate chip cookies and 3,000 root beer floats, all made by volunteers (aka Michelle and Jim Bob’s daughters). Michelle didn’t tell People what she gave Jill and Derick for a wedding gift, but I heard she gave them the white sheet with a hole in it that she and Jim Bob used on their wedding night.
Anyway, congratulations to Jill and if she’s going to follow in her mother’s
footsteps clown car tracks, condolences to her uterus.
But it’s not like Tammy Lynn Michaels could crash Melissa Etheridge’s latest wedding if she could. Tammy Lynn ONLY gets a paltry ass $86,000 a month from Melissa and so she can’t afford to put gas in the beat-up Pinto she drives and even if she could afford gas, she wouldn’t be able to get into her beat-up Pinto, because she’s too weak from only eating garden hose water and Top Ramen flavor packets.
At the San Ysidro Ranch in Montecito, California yesterday, Nurse Jackie creator Linda Wallem became the next woman who will one day hate the shit out of Melissa Etheridge and spend her days writing nothing but rage-filled, incoherent haikus on her blog after Melissa drops her ass for another trick. Linda Wallem was Melissa’s Best Woman when Melissa married Tammy Lynn Michaels and yesterday she was Melissa’s bride. As People pointed out, Melissa announced on her Twatter that she is somebody’s wife again:
True love…so blessed. “By the power invested in me by the state of California…” Thanks
UsWeekly that Linda (who wore a gown made of shaving cream) and Melissa’s guests included Rosie O’Donnell (Fun gayelle fact: If lesbians don’t invite gayelle mafia don Rosie O to their wedding, their Home Depot credit card will be revoked), Whitney Cummings and Chelsea Handler. I don’t think Chelsea is friends with either Linda or Melissa. She just sniffed out the open bar and crashed the party.
Anyway, congratulations to Melissa and her future ex-wife. I’m sure they both filled with happiness and were touched when they got Tammy Lynn’s wedding gift: a box of used dicks (Tammy Lynn can’t afford new ones).
Raise a glass of whatever power lesbians are drinking noadways (Clamato and vodka?) to Jodie Foster who got married to her girlfriend of almost a year, photographer and actress Alexandra Hedison, over the weekend. I know I should keep up with the goings on of Jodie Foster’s vagine, but I can never keep up with the goings on of Jodie Foster’s vagine. Jodie had a 20 year-long relationship with her partner, righteous soul sister and co-mom to her two kids Cydney Bernard but that supposedly ended when she got caught with her mouth on the cookie jar of another woman named Cindy Mort. But now Jodie’s doing the holy matrimony coochie bump with Alexandra Hedison who dated Ellen DeGeneres for three years. Hollywood really is just one big swap party and since Alexandra went from Ellen to Jodie, Rosie O’Donnell is looking at that hot piece while licking her chops and thinking to herself, “All mine in two years.”
E! has all the thrilling details:
I can exclusively reveal that the Oscar winner and her photographer girlfriend of almost a year got married this past weekend.
A rep for Foster confirms the happy news.
As E! News first reported, the two started dating sometime last summer.
“It’s pretty serious,” a source told us in September. “They’re totally in love.”
Jodie and her new wife haven’t even been together for a year, but I don’t blame her for getting married so fast. I’m gayer than a squirt of strawberry-scented lube on a purple glitter dildo and even I wanted to marry Alexandra when she was on The L Word.
E! doesn’t have anymore details like what Jodie wore (a power suit, she wore a power suit) or who went to her wedding. But if her best friend forever Mel Gibson was there, I’m sure everybody got the warms in their hearts when he raised his glass and said, “Congrats to my favorite dyke!”
Thousands of children have been told by their 30-something mothers to go and play in the street or whatever, because mommy needs a little “me time” and by that she means she needs to scream and bawl out the words, “IT SHOULD’VE BEEN MEEEEEEEE,” while doing the endless wall slide of woe. Because the youngest Backstreet Boy Nick Carter got married yesterday in Santa Barbara, CA. I’m not one of those hos crying about this shit, because I was never into the Backstreet Boys and if I was, I’d get the tingles for Kevin Richardson. I wouldn’t turn down a chance to suck off those brows.
Anyway, People says that 34-year-old Nick married fitness expert/actress (nothing is more L.A. than a fitness expert/actress) Lauren Kitt in front of 100 guests, including 2 of the Backstreet Boys, at the Bacarat Resort. Nothing says “wedded bliss” like a groom making a “the fuck did I just do?” face while his bride smiles at the camera. Nick and Lauren bumped fuck parts full-time for a while before they got engaged last year. Because Nick would rather Vh1 pay for his fancy wedding to a chick he might only be married to for a quick second, the whole thing was shot for a reality show, which will start airing sometime this year.
Sadly, the best Carter, Aaron Carter, wasn’t at his brother’s wedding. Aaron cannot turn down a check, so he performed at the Cherry Blossom parade in DC and he didn’t make it back to California in time because the plane had mechanical problems. Damn you, Spirit Airlines! Aaron’s rep (yes, he has on those) said this:
“Aaron signed a contract to appear at the Cherry Blossom parade in D.C. before Nick’s wedding date was announced. [We] realized there was a problem and figured out he could perform and get him to Santa Barbara so he would be there for the last two hours of the reception. Tickets were purchased and the plan was in place. It was a major operation to get him there in time. Aaron didn’t blow anything off and would have been there – it’s a real bummer for him. He feels bad he missed the wedding.”
Nick Carter is an asshole for not canceling his wedding. How can he get married without his former partner in meth, his brother, next to him? How can he dance with his new wife without his brother next to them dancing with a Hilary Duff cardboard cutout? I bet the Hilary Duff cardboard cutout was finally going to put out last night too. Poor Aaron.
*Pictures removed by request*
Master beard pruner Tom Ford and his journalist partner Richard Buckley have been together for 27 years (which is 1,387 years in gay years and UNNATURALLY IMPOSSIBLE in Goop years) and they went through Richard’s fight against throat cancer together and they became daddies 2 years ago, but I guess they figured that they had a good run and it’s time for them to ruin their relationship by getting married. Start the conscious uncoupling clock! During a talk at one of the Apple Stores in London last night, Tom Ford casually slipped in (yes, I got the puckers while typing that) the news that he’s a married man now.
“I lost so many friends in college – I would say more than half of my closest friends. Richard, my partner of 27 years, had also gone through something also quite tough in his life. We are now married which is nice. I know that was just made legal in the UK which is great; we were married in the States.”
You probably didn’t read any of those words since you were too busy brushing your eyeballs against the manicured edges of Tom Ford’s sharp-as-fuck beard.
I need to update my wet dream fantasies now. Because in my wet dream fantasies, while Tom and I are lying on black silk sheets on his circular bed under a mirrored ceiling, he sips bourbon from a crystal goblet as I meticulously trim his nipple hairs with tiny baby scissors and when I’m done with that he puts on his tux and tells me he’s late for his hourly beard pruning appointment. That’s how it usually ends. But now it’ll end with him putting on his gold wedding ring before telling me he has to leave before his husband suspects anything. This is good, because my Tom Ford wet dream fantasy was getting a little boring. Me being his side piece slut is really going to spice my Tom Ford wet dream fantasy up! (Yes, I hug my pillow and cry myself to sleep every night.)
Here’s Tom, his husband their kid Alexander at LAX last month.
Because the divorce rate in America isn’t going to raise on its damn own, two Real Housewives (well, technically, one Real Housewife and one displaced Real Housewives refugee) started their journey to divorce (served in a terrine of bitterness) yesterday by getting married. Kandi Burruss of Xscape and The Real Housewives of Atlanta married gold digging opportunist (copyright: Mama Joyce) Todd Tucker in Atlanta and the malnourished llama Taylor Armstrong, formerly of The Real PlasticWives of Beverly Hills, earned another gold digging medal of achievement when she married lawyer John Bluher (which is what a free clinic doctor writes next to “reason” on the medical file of a trick who came in with pus-filled warts all over her coochie lips after John Mayer gave her oral).
CNN says that Kandi married her boyfriend of a few years Todd Tucker after being engaged to him for a year. (Side note: Before you say, “The hell why is CNN covering this?“, be thankful that at least they’re covering this instead of recreating the Malaysia Airlines flight with Micro Machines.) Reality Tea says that as far as they know, only Porsha Stewart and Phaedra Parks were at the wedding. I guess Mama Joyce didn’t bum rush Todd and tackle him to the floor when the officiant asked if anyone objected. I’m sure Mama Joyce was truly happy for Kandi and while her daughter danced with Todd, she serenaded them with her muffled screams while she was tied down to a chair with a napkin stuffed in her mouth. I can’t wait to see that beautiful and touching moment when Bravo eventually airs it.
And in California, Taylor Armstrong made porny-named John Bluher her second husband during a ceremony at the Bel Air Bay Club in the Pacific Palisades. UsWeekly says that 120 guests including the morally corrupt Faye Resnick, Kyle Richards and Lisa Vanderpump watched as Taylor’s baboon butt lips attacked her new husband’s mouth after they were married. Taylor and John met in 2011 when she hired him after her estranged husband Russell Armstrong killed himself. So out of tragedy came a shameless book and a new husband. You go, Taylor, I guess.
Taylor’s wedding was planned by David Tutera and cameras were present, so I’m assuming it’s going to be on My Fair Wedding. I couldn’t find any pictures of David Tutera, but that’s probably because he was tending to more important behind-the-scene details like fucking a man hooker in the bathroom.