Out of the Anne Hathaway’s armpit, I want to know more about just what kind of porn we’re talking about here! Revenge porn? Err…so, not the kind that starts with a pizza guy delivering an extra-large sausage then.
Ann-WITH-AN-E-GODDAMN-IT Hathaway must have heard that only about 8.3% of humans surveyed are able to tolerate her faux-humble “gee shucks, a song? Now? I’m barely even warmed upSOME-WHAAAAAARE OVER THE RAAAANE BOOOOWWWWW!” theatre kid-on-crack schtick, because she recently explained to Elle UK (via E!) that yes, she understands she spent most of 2012 making eyes roll, but it’s not her fault! The A-list Oscar-winning “It came true“-whispering Anne Hathaway was the result of the real Anne Hathaway being dickmatized by a shady asshole named Fame:
“This fame thing? Fucked me up for a really long time. I didn’t know how to do it; I didn’t know how to engage with it; it stressed me out. And people would say, ‘You just have to be yourself,’ and I was like, ‘But I don’t know who that is yet!’”
Fame fucked me up too, but I’m talking about the movie Fame; guess what you’re not allowed to do at a normal high school? Climb on top of a table and dance.
But I feel like the low-budget Liza/high-budget Lea Michele thing is the real Anne Hathaway! It has to be! I don’t want to live in a world where Anne Hathaway isn’t constantly grinning like a hyperactive Broadway-obsessed middle school girl who just got her Phantom of the Opera Playbill signed by the understudy for Raoul.
Or maybe this is all a strategic move to become a new, more ~serious~ Anne Hathaway. Oooh, maybe she’ll even drop the E! “It’s Ann-without-that-dorky-E now. I’m not a goody-goody anymore. I say the f-word and wear dark lipstick. By the way, do you have any drugs? I smoke drugs now. Ann-no-E does them all – pot, grass, weed, I even smoked a cocaine once.”
Sorry, you’ll have to give me a moment – I’m trying to make sense of Brad Pitt’s janky facial hair on the cover of GQ. Why does it look like his beard is running away from his moustache? And why does his chin look like an elderly badger after a bikini wax? “Oooh girl, let your garden grown!” said some elderly badgers.
Brapi gave an interview to British GQ where talked about his gorgeous hair in Interview with the Vampire and what the hell was up with St. Angie’s wedding dress. NO! I wish. He actually talked about pretentious Hobo Brad shit (all of which is super-fun to read in Taran Killam’s Brad Pitt voice):
Goopy Paltrow Wants You To Know That She’s Not The Epitome Of Perfection And Screws Up Pasta Sometimes
But FYI: Goopy Paltrow’s screwed up pasta is still a zillion times better than your best pasta. You already knew that, though.
When all of us peasant peons sneak past the guards and stick our eyes on the crack in the stone wall that surrounds Goopy Paltrow’s perfect manor of perfection, our eye sockets fill with pure jealousy as we look at everything in her perfect life from her perfect outdoor pizza oven to the perfect bath tub in her perfect bedroom to the way the perfect stick shoved up her perfect ass gives her perfect posture. But the dehydrated piece of jicama covered with perfection tells Viva Magazine (via E! News) that even she, the human pinnacle of excellence whose full name auto-corrects to PERFECT in every iPhone (every iPhone 6 that is. You literally can’t type her name in an iPhone 5s or lower, because poors don’t deserve that honor!), fails sometimes. I mean, she screwed up pasta once! Technically it wasn’t her fault. It was her Italian water importer’s fault. He sent her jugs full of tap water from Bologna instead of Sicily and it totally made her homemade pasta inedible! Goopy also continued to clarify that “9 to 5 working moms don’t have it as hard as I do” comment she shat up a few months ago.
Seen above bringing the glamour by shoving six Bump-Its in her hair before posing with Willow and Bristol, Sarah Palin did something she never does, keep her lips shut, when the story about her family’s Jerry Springer-approved messy brawl at a snowmobile party in Anchorage came out. Over a week ago, bloggers in Alaska reported that the Palins were involved in a 20-person drunken brawl that ended with Bristol Palin repeatedly punching the owner the house and Sarah Palin screaming, “Do you know who I am?!” The Anchorage PD confirmed that the trashy brawl went down and said that the Palins were there, but didn’t say anything else. A few days ago, the pride of Alaska (Correction: The FORMER pride of Alaska. The new, real pride of Alaska is Charlo Greene.) FINALLY broke her silence and wrote a Facebook post where she slobbered out a stream of pride for Bristol Palin and waved a shank at the liberal media for trying to bring down her family. Take it away, Mama Grizzly!
I love my Bristol! My straight-shooter is one of the strongest young women you’ll ever meet. I have to say this as a proud mama: right up there with their work ethic and heart for those less fortunate, my kids’ defense of family makes my heart soar! As you can imagine, they and my extended family have experienced so many things (liberal media-driven) that may have crushed others without a strong foundation of faith, and I’m thankful for our friends’ prayer shield that surrounds them, allowing faith to remain their anchor. Thank you, prayer warriors! I love you!
See this from Bristol:
- Sarah Palin
Sarah Palin defending Bristol Palin’s messy ass tells me that during that brawl, Sarah held down that house owner and screamed, “Whoop that trick, honey! Whoop ‘em,” while her pride and joy punched him in the face several times. Now that Here Comes Honey Boo Boo is in danger of ending (no, it isn’t), TLC should beg the Palin family to star in another reality shit show for them, because us Americans need our weekly dose of pure hillbilly class.
I know, somebody should really come up with a different couple name for these two hos, because every time I see “Martin Lawrence,” I get really confused when my eyes land on a picture of a white girl with Taylor Swift hair. I think to myself, “Did Sheneneh bleach her skin?” So yeah, they need a new couple name so the confusion can stop! Maybe JenRis? Or JMart? Or LaMart? Or La Wart? La Wart it definitely is!
Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Martin have reportedly been doing it for a few weeks now and even though they’ve been together in public places, there’s zero pictures of them together. No grainy cell phone pictures. No slick pictures that a tricky trick took of themselves in the foreground and La Wart in the background. None of that. But at last night’s iHeart Radio music festival at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Martin ended up in the same frame. We’re getting closer to the truth!
People says that JLaw was at Coldplay’s rehearsal and sang along. During their set at the iFart Radio music festival, she stood on the side and went to his dressing room afterward. Because you won’t believe it until you hear it from an anonymous source, here’s an anonymous source repeating what I just wrote in the sentence before this one:
“She was off to the side of the stage when he performed. After his set, she snuck back into his dressing room.”
JLaw’s PR team should leak a picture of them sucking on each other’s mouths already. Because all we’ve got are stories of her going to Coldplay shows and singing along to every song, and a picture of her backstage with Chris Martin in the background. At this point, Jennifer Lawrence is coming off as Coldplay’s #1 fan and a Chris Martin groupie stalker. I won’t judge JLaw for knowing the words to every Coldplay song (yes, I will), but I will never be able to look at her if it came out that she’s a Chris Martin groupie stalker. That’s like saying that unsalted mashed cauliflower made with tap water is your favorite food ever. Even Taylor Swift would say, “Girl, love yourself more.”
Ariana Grande Latte Responds To The Diva Bitch Rumors, Uses The Word “Love” At Least 100 Times While Doing So
Ariana Grande, the rabid Yorkie who shape-shifted into a diabolical wig with eyes, responded on Twitter yesterday to the rumors that she’s an evil demon fetus who wishes death upon her fans and is such a demanding asshole that she makes her diva idol Mimi seem like a reasonable and humble butterfly. Scooter Braun’s newest monster spilled out a Twitter stream filled with emojis, the word “love” and a quote from Rent. Ariana’s little fans (you know, the ones whose graves she wants to dance on) might think her tweets are cute and sweet and ~genuine~, but us growns know better. Ariana’s tweets are like a pentagram drawn in blood and covered with rainbow glitter and puppy stickers. They might seem fakely sweet and cute on the surface, but there’s a whole lot of dark-sidedness beneath them. The future serial killer’s tweets are after the cut, because there’s a lot of them.
“The Rainmaker” – I bet that’s his nickname at strip clubs.
Ben Affleck, seen here looking sort of like an off-brand hybrid of Ryan Reynolds and George Clooney, spoke to Details magazine with director David Fincher about their upcoming film Gone Girl, and I guess there’s only so many times you can ask “So…does he actually kill his wife or what?“, because the conversation turned to that time the douchey half of Bennifer got kicked out of the Hard Rock Casino for counting cards at a blackjack table. And that the time he got kicked out of a Canadian casino for counting cards at a blackjack table. And basically all the other times he got caught gambling dirty.
But Ben Affleck doesn’t give a shit that he’s built up a reputation in the gaming community as the smug rich guy version of Raymond Babbitt. In fact, he’s pretty proud that he’s gotten so good at knowing when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em that casinos don’t want him hanging around because they know he’ll clean their asses out. Ben Affleck IS Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler!
Lena Dunham (seen here serving up some flawless Canary Yellow drunk at the Rainbow Land prom realness) recently admitted to O Magazine (via Page Six) that just like you and I, she’s totally obsessed with reading online celebrity gossip and loves knowing who’s fucking who and who’s a coked-up life mess and who showed up to the Emmy Awards looking like an expensive Sweet 16 cake melting in slow motion. Except unlike you and I (mostly me, since the part of my brain that dispenses fucks broke down a long time ago) she sort of feels guilty about contributing to a culture that drags out-of-touch $900 sweater-hustling snobs and stupid spoiled fame whores for being out-of-touch $900 sweater-hustling snobs and stupid spoiled fame whores:
“I know that by reading them I’m supporting an industry that hurts people who are making art and putting themselves on the line. Still, all I want to know is who is breaking up with whom and who might be pregnant.”
I sort of agree with Lena. It must be so hard for an ~artiste~ like Goopy Paltrow to create something as important and inspiring as a tutorial on how to make a bed without being afraid that uncultured dum-dum haters online won’t “get it” and tear it to shreds. Or Taylor Swift, who just wants to write sincere heartfelt songs about cunty back-stabbing mean girls without people online picking her apart for being a dramatic rumor-spreading bitch-in-butterscotch clothing. Or Kim Kardashian, who just wants to be a no-talent narcoleptic-faced fame-humping failed porn star hooker without assholes like me calling her out online for being a useless piece of trash. How rude!
I know Lena Dunham thinks it’s shitty to throw online shade at celebrities, but really, I bet if I asked her to name the last 3 pieces of “art” a gossip staple like Lindsay Lohan has made, she’d be like “Uh…well…okay, you got me there.“
Every J. Jill-wearing, Dodge Caravan-driving, Army Wives-watching, 40-something mom who puts on Coldplay when she really wants to rock out and puts on John Mayer when she wants to feel the flutters down below IS so jealous of Jennifer Lawrence right now. They just want to drop their Walmart plastic cup full of boxed pink wine and curse that bitch’s name. Because not only are John Mayer and Chris Martin battling for the title of “the most played singer in a gynecologist’s waiting room,” but they’re also battling it out for Jennifer Lawrence’s heart. Tonight, moms will take to the streets and burn their kids’ DVD copies of The Hunger Games!
A source tells Hollywood Life (I know, I know) that John Mayer’s David Duke dick has had a hard-on for Jennifer Lawrence for a while and he doesn’t care if she’s currently bumping wet parts with Goopy’s leftovers. He’s trying to do whatever it takes for her to make him her full-time piece. Apparently, Jennifer Lawrence is open to the idea of John Mayer anointing her twat an official member of the KKK by tapping it with his dick, because she had dinner with him last month.
“John is determined to win Jennifer’s heart. They had a late dinner together at Cecconi’s in West Hollywood on Aug. 29. Chris who? That’s how John feels. It’s not like she’s wearing a ring on her finger and John will continue to try and woo her until she does. He’s not in the least bit set back by the fact that Jennifer’s been out on multiple dates with Chris.”
I’ll only believe this one if we find out that John Mayer’s dick completed Rosetta Stone’s British accent course and can do a totally passable cockney accent. Because I thought Jennifer Lawrence only did British dudes.
E! News says that Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Martin’s relationship is moving along and the two held hands and “canoodled” while hanging out with his friends at Chateau Marmont last night:
“They seem very comfortable in each other’s company—and happy! It doesn’t seem like it’s a new relationship. They seem super affectionate and at ease with each other. [They] were the center of attention…They seem super cute together.”
If Hollywood Life is spitting out the truth, then Jennifer Lawrence has a really, really hard decision to make. Does she want to become the CDC’s newest sweetheart by regularly screwing on human gonorrhea strain John Mayer or does she want her chochoa to slip into a coma from regularly doing Chris Martin. Decisions…. decisions…
The Dumb Bitch of the Decade award was given to Normal Guy Dave last month when he screwed up and got fired from the easiest job in the world. All Normal Guy Dave had to do was hold Brit Brit Spears’ Starbucks, take her out every week for an ultra romantic dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, rub her tummy while she tried to poot out an Arby’s-induced ass queef and not tell her what happens when she screams, “Don’t tell me what happens!”, while watching Frozen for the 400th time (it’s the only movie Daddy Spears lets her watch). Easiest paycheck ever! But the sad excuse for a gold digger kissed that easy check goodbye when he allegedly dipped his dick into the twat of porn star Cali Lee. And now Brit Brit’s lawyers are trying to slap a muzzle on Cali Lee’s mouth.