Seen above looking like a Predator working the prosthetic butt that Martin Lawrence wore in Big Momma’s House, Khloe Kartrashian is on the cover of
Komplex Complex and in the interview, she brings the heave-summoning jacked-up foolery in heavy doses. Khloe defends Kylie Jenner’s relationship with PedoTyga and also tells us what it sounds like when Pimp Mama Kris fucks. If you really don’t feel like torturing your stomach and soul, skip the words that Khloe sharted up and watch this video of a bull dog trying to climb into a tiny folding chair instead. That bulldog works the “ass out, head over shoulder” pose a million times better than Khlozilla does.
Whore herself to every app ever made? CHECK! Join dark forces with the Avengers of the Illuminati? CHECK! Do stand-up on The Tonight Show? CHECK! Siphon the soul out of a young bitch during a Satanic ritual in the desert? CHECK!
Just when I thought that Madge had pulled every STUNT QUEEN stunt imaginable to sell copies of her album, she reached deep and pulled out another one that nobody (including Wheelchair Jimmy) wanted. Madge was the surprise guest during Drake’s set at Coachella last night and before she left the stage to find another young star’s soul to eat, she wrapped her mouth around his and got his life. Suck that soul out, Madge! The whole moment was very “Next time on Extreme Cougar Wives…” If Wheelchair Jimmy was in on it and this is his way of trying to get Amanda Bynes to finally, once and for all, stop bothering him about leaving a chalk outline around her vagina, it worked. Because not only did Drake’s insides dry up, but so did Amanda Bynes’ thirst for Drake.
If you haven’t yet stretched your cringe muscles while watching Madge get all Inca the Mummy Girl on Drake, here you go:
And this is the classic face Drake made after getting a taste of melted plastic, virgin’s blood, boy toy ass juices, Polident for Grillz and desperation:
Drake looks like he just sucked off Johnny Depp and wasn’t ready for all that cheese.
Madge doesn’t give any fucks (or maybe she gives TOO much fucks), so after she became a meme, she let everyone know that she isn’t bothered feeds off of their hate. Madge doesn’t care now, but she will care in a few weeks when Drake tries to hit her up for alien support money. Because when the egg that Madge implanted in Drake’s body finishes gestating, a Vaudevillian demon alien is going to rip its way out of his stomach and who the hell is going to take care of it?
Oh booze, sweet booze. The sweet nectar can be a delicious and wonderful thing, but sometimes it leads you down a dark, destructive path where you wake up with half of your face burned off because the booze screwed with your decision-making skills and you thought it would be a really good idea to eat out Parasite Hilton. I’m assuming Henry Cavill’s plastered as shit in these pictures, but he could also have the dizzies from breathing in the toxic fumes wafting off of Wonky McValtrex.
Last night, W Magazine threw a party at the Chateau Marmont where Henry partied with Chris Evans and Gillian Anderson. I already screamed out, “Fuck you, Gillian,” at Gillian on behalf of all of us for being the cheese in that Double Down man sandwich. As Lainey at Lainey Gossip points out, Henry ignored the “Stay Away From Wonky” fliers that the Department of Health hands out when you arrive at LAX and got into an SUV with Paris Hilton after the party. This could be nothing, but then again, Henry (or his publicists) can really pick ’em.
Nobody saw this one coming. We all thought Superman would meet his tragic demise by the hand of Lex Luthor or from a deadly case of thrush (which he got from wearing those damn sweaty tights all the time). Nobody would’ve ever guessed that Superman would turn green and melt into a puddle of smegma after wet humping on Parasite Hilton’s kryptokooch. I bet she’s working for Lex Luthor. Look at her hiding in the shadows (and that attention whore NEVER does that) with an evil smirk on her face. Bitch knows what she’s doing.
Pics: Getty, Splash
A few days ago, Radar, Gawker and a bunch of others picked up a comment from an obvious Christian fundie satire blog that claimed that 21-year-old Jessa Duggar and her 19-year-old husband Ben Seewald couldn’t ignore their hot, tingling loins after getting married and had their first marital fuck as husband and wife in a room at the church. The commenter claimed that Jinger Duggar (I never CAN with that name) caught the newest Duggar baby machine getting on her new husband’s dick right after her wedding. The rumor was believable for a quick second since the Duggars are more obsessed with fucking than I am. But it turned out to be fake and the comment was erased from that parody blog.
But since Jessa Duggar is one of those church people who gets off on responding with bible verses instead of giving it to us straight like a normal person, she responded to that made-up story on Instagram by throwing this up:
Everything I learned in catechism class was replaced by more important facts like who auditioned for the role of Nomi in Showgirls and what was Heathcliff’s girlfriend’s name, so I don’t really know what that means. I’m not fluent in Bible anymore. But I’m guessing what Jessa’s trying to say is that haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate, God is going to kill kill kill that blog that started the rumor and she didn’t pop her cherry in the House of the Lord. She and Ben just 69’d before she squirted all over his tux and he came on her head. Am I close?
And you know how Jessa Duggar Instagramm’d this awkward picture of her kissing on her sleeping husband?
That picture has spawned a nightmare. After the jump is the picture that Jessa’s parents Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar texted her with:
It really isn’t New York City’s month. First Ebola and now they have to deal with Taylor Swift being the official welcome mat of their city. That’s a title that should’ve gone to absolutely anybody in NYC besides Tay Tay. Dr. Zizmor, the elegant dream makers of Grand Prospect Hall and the glamorous master of Trash and Vaudeville were all ROBBED!
Taylor Swift’s new album “1989,” which will probably sell a million copies in its first week, came out today and since there’s a song called “Welcome to New York” on it, NYC’s tourism board and Taylor’s people have joined forces to queef up a terrible, terrible marketing idea. I guess “Welcome to New York” is the new unofficial welcome anthem of NYC, because Tay Tay has been named NYC’s Global Welcome Ambassador. When I visited NYC for the first time, within two hours of my visit I was welcomed by the sound of a drunken homeless guy saying to me, “Hey, cake boy, give me a dollar will ya?” That is the welcome anthem of NYC. Not a Taylor Swift song!
Taylor, who has lived in NYC for about 6 minutes, made the announcement on Good Morning America today (thrilling pictures below) and also said that she’s going to perform in her new hometown on New Year’s Eve. As part of her new role as NYC’s Global Welcome Ambassador, Tay Tay shot a cringe-inducing NYC orientation video where she educated visitors on what a bodega is, how to say Houston Street correctly and what “NoHo” is. NoHo isn’t only a neighborhood in Manhattan, it’s what I shouted out loud when Taylor announced that she was the new face of NYC. While watching that mess of a video, I kept waiting for Tay Tay to tell visitors what to do if a dude starts jerking off on their leg on the subway, but then I realized that stuff like that probably doesn’t happen in her chauffeured SUV. NYC’s newest mascot also spit this out:
“I’m still learning, but I’m so enthusiastic about this city that when I love something, I’m very vocal about it. New York was a huge landscape for what became this album. It’s affected my life in ways I’m not even aware of fully.”
Maybe Taylor isn’t such a shitty choice after all. It’s hard to live in Manhattan unless you caca money and can easily write a check for your $20 million apartment without blinking. So she’s a fit!
I always knew that if NYC was a human it’d be a gay dude and now that it’s in a contract relationship with Taylor Swift, my suspicion has been confirmed! I can’t wait until NYC rips up its relationship contract with Taylor and she goes back to the Christmas tree farm to write the break-up song titled “I Hate The Way You Say Houston.”
SHOCK OF THE DAY: Dude didn’t get it from sucking on Parasite Hilton.Unless….his uncle IS Parasite Hilton.
I didn’t think the day that I’d write about Papa Roach would ever come, but it has and it involves the herp, of course. Jacoby Shaddix, the 38-year-old lead ho of the band you used to listen to in the early 2000s when you felt like the world didn’t understand you and you wanted to feel extra angsty, talked to Hit The Floor (via Uproxx) about all the “firsts” in his life. Jacoby shat up the story of his first kiss and CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES I DIDN’T NEED TO READ THAT SHIT. I really don’t need to check Ancestry.com to tell Jacoby Shaddix that he’s probably related to St. Angie Jolie and James Haven. This is all the proof I need:
“My first kiss was when my uncle kissed me and he gave me herpes. It was terrible. Anybody else got herpes? Yeah, you do. Don’t lie to yourself. I know you got it, you watching this.”
Papa Roach + creepy uncles + herpes = a reason for you to take a mental health day and spend your afternoon funneling Everclear into your ear hole to wipe that uncomfortable tidbit from your brain.
But I’ve got a question. What’s worse? Your uncle giving you herpes or your uncle giving you a new Papa Roach album? Or is that a trick question?
Come-to-life bottle of imported organic sparkling tapwater Gwyneth Paltrow is, according to Gwyneth Paltrow, the best at everything. She’s the best at divorce. She’s the best at friendship. She’s the best at water. And now she can add one more extremely pretentious feather to her $984 hand-shaped self-important cap: Gwyneth is the best at teaching you how to make a bed. No, not like sourcing rare timber for the frame or designing the perfectly Goopy boxspring, but like, making a bed in the way you put sheets and blankets on it. THIS. BITCH.
Gwyneth Paltrow recently turned Goop.com into the asshole’s wikiHow by posting a step-by-step tutorial called “Making The Perfect Bed“. This may seem like a redundant article to most of humanity, since you probably leaned how to make your bed when you were 5-years-old, because IT’S NOT THAT DIFFICULT, but since Gwyneth Paltrow has liquid self-importance running through her veins, she’s offered to take us poor non-Gwyneths by the hand and teach us how to do it properly (aka The Goopy Paltrow Way).
I know, I hate myself too for posting this. If you put your ear up to it, you can hear Bruce Jenner’s high-pitched wail before it grabs onto your ear and pulls it off of your head. When it gets to its lair, it will spit your ear out, melt down the cartilage and inject that shit into Kim Kartrashian’s face.
Pimp Mama Kris’ kamel toe of destruction showed itself while leaving a restaurant in West Hollywood with Dean Cain yesterday. Isn’t Dean Cain supposed to be 90s Superman? Obviously, he was a fake the entire time, because if he was really Superman, he would be on the ground, screaming for mercy from being exposed to PMK’s kryptonite kamel toe. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run to the nearest church to burn my retinas on a saint candle. You do too? I’ll save you a spot.
On a list of “Movies That Hollywood Should Remake,” Milo & Otis should be somewhere at the top (because I really want to see a remake starring Teddy Bear and Tara the Hero Cat, but not Grumpy Cat, because that ho needs a break) and hovering at the bottom above Showgirls (the day Hollywood remakes Showgirls is the day all the Gods need to gather together to bitch slap Hollywood into the Pacific Ocean) should be Ben-Hur. But because Hollywood gets off on remaking shit that nobody asked to be remade, they’re remaking Ben-Hur. Expect it to be filled with 1000% more explosions and 2000% more CGI. The theme song will be a Roman Empire remix of Nelly’s “Hot In Herre” called “Hot In Hurrr.”
Last year, it was reported that MGM was talking about a remake of Ben-Hur, but I guess those “talks” turned into something more, because they’ve put it on the release schedule for 2016. Deadline says that MGM, Paramount and producer/director Timur Bekmambetov (he directed Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and Wanted) will fart out the new Ben-Hur on February 26, 2016. Timur is planning to direct. John Ridley, who wrote 12 Years A Slave, wrote the latest draft and Survivor’s head bitch Mark Burnett and the angel that has touched us all Roma Downey have joined the project as producers. Right now, they’re looking for their Ben-Hur and Tumblr’s #1 coochie cream- inducer Tom Hiddleston is their first choice. FINALLY! A historically accurate choice, because we all know that ancient Jews were as white as white can be and spoke with British accents. Deadline thinks that Tom is the perfect choice:
Hiddleston seems an ideal choice. Long thought of as a classical actor in parlor dramas, he remade himself as a global action star thanks to his work as the charismatic anti-hero Loki in the Thor and The Avengers films. Stay tuned.
I see what those evil whores in Hollywood are doing. They know that all of his crazed fangirls will bankrupt themselves to see their God command a chariot while sweaty, dirty and baring his nipples in a flimsy toga. KY Jelly does not want this to happen, because if it did, thousands of pussies will never be parched again. If MGM executives really want to fill their pools with $100 bills, they should make Ben-Hur’s gay love story blatantly obvious and cast Bendadick Cumsinbatches as Messala. Bendadick Cumsinbatches gently stroking Tom Hiddleston’s dirty, sweaty cheek would be the Fall of Tumblr.
If your teeth look like meth nubs because you almost ground them down to the gums and all the skin on your knuckles is gone from punching concrete walls, then you probably spent around 8 minutes of your day listening to this verbal game of Say Uncle between a dude trying to cancel his account and a Comcast service rep who was not going to let go. Anybody who has ever canceled or downgraded service with Time Warner or Comcast listened to this and thought to themselves, “Eh, been there and that’s why I’ve got a Klonopin addiction now.” But this customer service rep goes all the way hard and as he’s trying to hold onto that customer with the tips of his nails, I pictured his supervisor standing over him while holding a gun to a puppy’s face and giving him a look that says, “If you let that customer cancel, the puppy gets it.” I pictured the supervisor’s supervisor doing the same thing and so on and so on. Basically, a lot of puppies lives were in danger during this call.
On Sunday, writer Veronica Belmont tweeted a link to an 8-minute-long clip of her husband Ryan Block wrestling with a Comcast customer service rep while trying to cancel their service. Ryan wrote on SoundCloud that at first, his wife was talking to the customer retention rep, but after 10 minutes of going absolutely nowhere, she handed the phone over to him and he started recording the conversation. Before Ryan took the phone, he greased up his face with Crisco, put on all of his rings and told Veronica to hold his purse, because he knew it was going to be a fight to the death. Ryan kept repeating that he’d like to cancel, but the rep wasn’t going to let his ass break up with Comcast and after a while, I was expecting the rep to go full Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction by screaming, “I won’t allow you treat me like some slut you can just bang a couple of times and throw in the garbage!!!” Ryan writes:
So! Last week my wife called to disconnect our service with Comcast after we switched to another provider (Astound). We were transferred to cancellations (aka “customer retention”).
The representative (name redacted) continued aggressively repeating his questions, despite the answers given, to the point where my wife became so visibly upset she handed me the phone. Overhearing the conversation, I knew this would not be very fun.
What I did not know is how oppressive this conversation would be. Within just a few minutes the representative had gotten so condescending and unhelpful I felt compelled to record the speakerphone conversation on my other phone.
This recording picks up roughly 10 minutes into the call, whereby she and I have already given a myriad of reasons and explanations as to why we are canceling (which is why I simply stopped answering the reps repeated question — it was clear the only sufficient answer was “Okay, please don’t disconnect our service after all.”).
Please forgive the echoing and ratcheting sound, I was screwing together some speaker wires in an empty living room!
The thing is, Ryan never asks to speak to someone else. I would’ve been screaming for a supervisor, a manager, the president of Comcast, Olivia Pope, Obama, etc… etc… And if that didn’t work, I’d pull out a serious weapon of mass destruction. I’d play the rep a Nickelback song. After two seconds into that song, he’d cancel my account and reimburse me for the entire year.
Here’s the full recording if you haven’t already slapped at your ears while listening to it:
Damn. It’s like trying to break up with Taylor Swift. “Just give me the damn break-up cancellation number, Taylor! Please!”
Comcast, of course, has already apologized:
“We are very embarrassed by the way our employee spoke with Mr. Block and are contacting him to personally apologize. The way in which our representative communicated with him is unacceptable and not consistent with how we train our customer service representatives.”
Comcast claims they’re investigating the call. Translation: They’re going to promote the rep to President of Customer Service.