Yes, of this decade. Yes, of this Earth’s decade. Yes, the Kendall Jenner you know from that semi-plastic reality television family. And no, today’s date is not April 1st. Don’t worry, I too had to double-check and make sure they weren’t talking about some charismatic alien fashion icon from a future universe that was also named Kendall Jenner.
Oh, what do we have here? A plastic container filled with expired leftovers from the mid-2000s that really should have been slipped into the trash years ago but for some reason continues to linger in the back of the fridge? Well yes, but it’s also a leftover that is just so sorry some recent gross ass-kissing comments went viral and made her sound like a terrible person. Heavens, we wouldn’t want anyone to think that about Paris Hilton, would we?
Over the past couple of weeks, Usher (sex alias: Papa Bear) has been in the middle of a herpes scandal that continues to grow bigger, grosser, and more green by the minute. And I’m not talking about Usher’s allegedly leaky green boner, either. We went from Usher settling with one past accuser for $1.1 million, to getting sued for $20 million for allegedly infecting another woman with Herpes Simplex 2, to three more alleged victims of Usher’s tainted dick threatening to sue for exposing them to the virus.
One of the women, Quantasia Sharpton, held a press conference with her lawyer Lisa Bloom earlier this week, claiming she didn’t have herpes, but was super pissed Usher’s unprotected dick exposed her to it. Usher isn’t singing “You remind me of a girl, that I, once gaveherpes toooo,” because Usher is telling friends he never slept with Quantasia.
Back in May, Steve Harvey sent out a memo to his staff and new employees in Los Angeles where his talk show was relocating, informing them of the do’s and do-not-do’s of working with Steve Harvey. It was a lot of words that essentially added up to: do not under any circumstances approach/ambush/talk to/make eye contact with Steve Harvey without an appointment to do so. Even if the building is burning down, let Steve Harvey figure that shit out on his own.
If you’re an aspiring rapper who also happens to be a woman, here’s a hot career tip for you: don’t send a mixtape to the office of Rick Ross. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to work out. The guaranteed sexual tension between you and Rick will inevitably cause your crotches to explode with passion, which will then make things weird around the office, and Rick just doesn’t want to have to deal with that. At least according to Rick Ross’ delusional mind that’s what will happen.
Rick was asked why he’s never signed a lady rapper to his recording label, Maybach Music Group, during a recent interview with Power 105.1’s The Breakfast Club (via Pitchfork). Pure misogynistic nonsense ensued.
“You know, I never did it because I always thought, like, I would end up fucking a female rapper and fucking the business up. I’m so focused on my business. I just, I gotta be honest with you. You know, she looking good. I’m spending so much money on her photo shoots. I gotta fuck a couple times.”
Those poor female rappers. The disappointment they must feel knowing they’ll never have the privilege of wrapping up an expensive photo shoot and catching a glimpse of Rick in the corner, puddles of sweat collecting under his moobs in his sexiest laundry day outfit, with a look in his eyes that say “I’m going to let you have sex on me…a couple times.”
But there’s one person who greatly benefits from Rick’s no female rappers policy, and that’s whoever runs HR over at Maybach Music Group. They would for sure develop a chronic case of carpal tunnel and severe nerve damage in their fingertips from typing up all those sexual harassment complaints.
Jeremy Renner has made enough money pretending to shoot arrows in the Avengers movies that he could pay someone $5,000 a minute to carry him on their shoulders as he carries his daughter on his, but no, he’s not going to do that. Jeremy Renner doesn’t want his 4-year-old daughter Ava to grow up in typical rich kid fashion. Sorry, Ava: no gold-dipped animal crackers for you (I didn’t grow up rich; is this something rich kids eat?). Or maybe you Jeremy will allow her those gold animal crackers, but she’s going to have to work for them.