No, Ryan Gosling is not on the set of the sequel to Joe Dirt. Ryan Gosling is shooting some movie in Upstate New York called The Place Beyond the Pines and he supposedly plays a motorcycle stunt driver or something. That doesn't matter. It also doesn't matter that Ryan bleached his hair til it turned the color of yeast infection discharge (I've been Googling again). There are more important things to discuss like that fake tattoo on his face. What in punctuation mark hell is the meaning of that thing?
Is an exclamation mark tattoo under your eye like the opposite of a tear drop tattoo? Instead of saying that you've made radiator paninis in prison and/or murdered the life out of a person, is it saying you're so excited so excited because you beat a murder charge? (Casey Anthony meet Kat Von D.) Ryan's face can never look like it's showing an emotion other than SOEXCITED, because his eyeball is always shitting out an exclamation point.
You know, I'm once again over analyzing a non-issue. It's simple, Ryan just wants to make a statement without saying a word.
Here's Ryan Gosling struttin' his ass away from a bunch of gawkers who are ooh-ing and aah-ing at how awesome it is that every time they watch the hipster ninja walk away, a song by a band they've never heard of plays in their head and their tongue suddenly feels like it just licked the foam off of a can of Pabst. Seriously, when Ryan struts, a wannabe hipster gets his first skinny jeans.
It was just a regular day in the life for Ryan Gosling in NYC yesterday. Ryan made like a moose face to the paps during an iced tea break and then posed for the default Facebook profile picture of a handful of fans. Meanwhile, Ryan's Benji dog rolled his eyes on the inside wishing that his owner would stop mean mugging at the paps so that they'd go away and he can caca on the sidewalk in peace without the world knowing what his shit looks like. Think of Benji dog for once, Ryan.
And here's my new favorite couple Ryan Gosling and director Nicolas Winding at the Cannes premiere of Drive tonight. I'm totally nominating Ryan & Nicholas as hottest couple for the yearbook. WindLing 4 EVA! Yeah, I know they're not a couple COUPLE couple, but they're doing shit that most couples don't do it like: touch their heads so that an invisible heart frame surrounds them, kiss in public, have deep conversations about their inner most feelings and canoodle. (Sort of off-topic: one friend had to tell me that to him "canoodle" sounds like noodles made out of canary meat. And now the only thing I can think of when I see two people cuddling while standing is how they are making noodles out of canary meat with each hug.)
Anyway, the next time you think you're in love, take a picture with the bitch you think you're in love with. If it doesn't look EXACTLY like this, then dump the motherfucker and go on to the next. It's not true love! I know because Nicolas is making the same look I make when I pose with my Anderson Cooper pillow case in my bathroom mirror.
Natalie Portman's baby brewing area is going to grow into thousands of pixels before our very eyes in the next few weeks as she accepts Best ActressWhatever at every awards show for her performance in Mother May I Sleep With Mila Kunis? and last night she collected one of her first at the Critics' Choice Movie Awards. (Click here for all the winners)
Actually, let me snatch that back. Natalie is probably not going to win at The Christina Hendricks Awards tomorrow since they will find some way to sneak St. Angie into the Best Actress - Drama category at the last second. They will say that St. Angie's performance in The Tourist is covered with so many layers that she's worthy of comedy, drama and animation awards. They are up on her halo like that. So, Natalie, stay home in your Zac Posen pajama jeans tomorrow, because that shit is not yours to take.
But last night, Natalie wore that shit to accept her trophy. It sorts of looks like a motel bed sheet held up with electrical tape and that sounds like a hot look on paper, but I'm not sure. Maybe I'm too busy slobbering over that trophy to make a concrete decision. Every single trophy resembles a dildo to me and that one looks like it was manufactured by Krypton's most well-respected dick toy makers. Get me one!
Here's a few more pictures from last night's show. In oooorder: Natalie Hershlag,
Yanni Christian Bale, Emma Stone, Jon Hamm, Dr. Kevorkian (????), Julianne Moore, Tilda Swinton, Melissa Leo, Michelle Williams, Ryan Gosling, Senorita Jokerface, Nicole Kidman with Keith Urban, Jeremy Renner, Lisa Rinna Helena Bonham Carter and Annette Bening with Warren Beatty.
It's a true fact that this clip of Ryan Gosling singing some kind of My Little Pony song might fertilize your eggs with winged pony glitter and turn your womb into a cloud of pink cotton candy, but I've still got a shade of NOT IMPRESSED painted all over my face. Ryan is not singing the official My Little Pony anthem that carried my childhood on a rainbow rug, so he automatically gets an incomplete. Ryan needs to download the clip below to his iWhatever, march up to his room and not come out until every magical melodic lyric and poetic word is pressed into his memory including "Starring Sandy Duncan".
And Clay Aiken is somewhere thinking to himself, "Pfft on RyGo. I can fart that song out in my sleep." Like literally. I'm jealous.
On the left we have Tom Hardy making those arm veins bulge like Kirstie Alley's colon after feeding time while carrying grocery bags home in Vancouver. And on the right we have Ryan Gosling eating the fuck out of an apple on the set of his movie in Los Angeles. It really is the simple things in life that give you a reason to take your pants off during a work day.
The only way these pictures could be better is if Ryan Gosling was biting into Tom Hardy's succulent nalgas instead of that apple.......
Actually, the image of Ryan Gosling Cape Fear-ing Tom Hardy's ass cheek isn't one that makes me want to close the drapes. Why do I have to ruin everything?!
Why does Ryan Gosling make my nipples stand up and my nalgas clench? This, I don't understand. Dude is borderline steamed spinach without lemon.
I mean, he looks like one of those dudes who won't call you for weeks, but then magically shows up at your door to hit that shit. You resist at first, but then the asshole flashes a "Yeah, I know how to do this" smile and before you know it, you're on board the bust nuts express. And I bet you that seconds after he pops a mess all over you, he gets up and says he needs to go have a cigarette by himself. Bitch doesn't even give you a paper towel! And then he walks outside and never comes back! A few weeks go by and the cycle repeats itself. If you see him in a bar or on the street within that time, dude probably doesn't even say hi. He just nods his head and gives you one of those cocky ass smiles that makes your genitals cry.
Okay, I just answered my own question. Swoooooooon.
Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling were all lovey-dovey in Toronto yesterday. I guess this means they're back together? Aren't they just the cutest thing? I could shit! However, you know what would make these pictures even sweeter?
Imagine a cute puppy bouncing around Ryan and Rachel. Rachel picks up the puppy, thinking her day has gotten even sweeter thanks to this innocent soul in her arms. Rachel and Ryan coo at the puppy in between kisses. It's all a sugary sweet picture. Then when Rachel and Ryan least expect it, the puppy bites off her ear lobes and rips off one of his finger nails. They both scream in pain as the puppy laughs and runs off.
Yes, I'm an insanely bitter bitch who needs to go and sit in a dark bathroom with a box of stale graham crackers and a glass of piping hot Haterade.
It's been a long ass time since I've done a "Panty Creamer of the Day," but I felt that Ryan Gosling's hotness was deserving of the title. Usually, I don't go for this kind of bland bitch, but I don't know what it is about him. He's a sizzling piece of bacon on a stack of hot maple-syrup covered pancakes. Yes, I know he's Canadian.
Here's Ryan buying me something special in West Hollywood yesterday.