Les Misérables doesn't come out until Christmastimes, but Universal is giving the hungry theater queens a quick Q-Tip tap in the form of this first trailer. In the trailer, Anne Hathaway coughs out a few slightly weak musical notes before we see a raggedy Hugh Jacksmen (who still looks cleaner than Brad Pitt) as the bread stealer, Russell Crowe as Javert, Amanda Seyfried as Cosette, Eddie Redmayne as Marius and Samantha Barks as Eponine. You know, I used to be one of those hating bitches who felt like the ghost of Donny Hathaway would make a better Fantine than Anne Hathaway, but this trailer has sort of changed my mind. Bitch isn't supposed to sound all polished and pretty. Bitch sold her hair and is wearing fingerless gloves. You would cry through the musical notes too if you looked like a Brooklyn hipster going to a backyard barbecue. Bitch is dreaming of a shower and a gift certificate to Supercuts so she can fix that busted, jagged ass haircut. It's a tragic story.
That being said, I still wished this movie starred Susan Boyle as Fantine, a bunch of stray cats as the other roles and Epponnee-Rae from Kath & Kim as Eponine.
It's that time of year again when Hugh Jackman's wife of 15 years and the mother of his chirruns, Deborra-Lee Furness, gives a standard denial to the rumor that she's the hardest working beard in the bearding business. This time Page Six Magazine brought up the gay rumor and Deborra-Lee performed another monologue straight out of The Beard Doth Protest Much!
“The line I heard was, ‘Wolverine? Who would have thought?’ Hugh and I don’t pay much heed. It’s kind of tragic that these people have nothing better to do than gossip about people they don’t know.”
"Tragic" is the nicest thing I've been called today, so I'll move on from that shade. You know, just when I start to think that if I sit in front of a Times Square glory hole (Note: Do they even those anymore or did Mickey Mouse plug that shit up to?) long enough Wolverine will stick his wolverpeen into the gay communion booth, Hugh Jackman pops up to say it will never happen. Hugh and Deborra-Lee have both denied the gay rumor so many times that it doesn't even matter anymore (not that it ever did).
Yes, Deborra-Lee could be bearding for Hugh while he humps on his producing partner in the guest room. And yes, Deborra-Lee and Hugh could be in a genuine relationship and he only plays gay on Broadway. Either way, Deborra-Lee gets to watch a topless Hugh sing show tunes while making chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, so I guess she's the one winning at LIFE. Give her all the Share the Wealth cards and put her in Millionaire Acres.
This is too easy, I know. It can't be Madge since the arms aren't hairy enough and those veins aren't shaped like the 72 names of God. The bulging veins that causes needles to jizz themselves live on the body of Hugh Jackman, of course. Hugh took his dog baby for a walk in NYC yesterday while showing off the gigantic arms that look like they're holding a veiny alien fetus that is about to burst through to sing show tunes while jazz kicking up and down the streets.
I can't lie, I'd fellate that vein. Give it a beej harmonica-style and shit. Well, it's bigger than some dicks. Imagine the mighty tree of veins that are wrapped around his peen? It probably looks like a long skinny bag of worms trying to get out (I ruined it with that image, I know). Who ever he's fucking on must save a lot of money on ribbed condoms. Because veins on your peen is nature's way of giving you ribbing for everyone's pleasure.
All day I've been hung over, under, to the side, etc... It feels like a giant suction cup is plunging the top of my head over and over again in slow motion while two invisible vibrators fuck me in both ears. It's not as hot as it sounds. Trust this. I was about to vow to never ever touch a bottle of booze ever again (HAHAHAHA!), but then my retinas swept across these pictures of Hugh Jackmeoff sunning his nipples in St. Tropez yesterday and I've changed my mind. I will lick on the sweet nectar once again as long it's dripping off of Hugh's 8 lane happy trail or off of his erect arm vein. That's the only time. So please, Hugh, don't keep my only true friend in the world (booze) and me apart!
Oh, fuckit. I'll just lick some whiskey off of some rack of ribs leftovers and pretend it's Hugh. I'll sprinkle my own pubes over it to make it really realistic. Booze and I can never be parted.
Take your privates off the empty dinner plate at Hugh Jackman's place at the table. I meant food. Although, if you dip it in a sauce made of a White Castle chocolate shake, a blended Triple Whopper from Burger King and a dollop of whipped Ensure, Hugh just might nibble on it.
Hugh is currently devouring almost 6,000 calories a day to bulk up for the next Wolverine movie directed by Darren Aronofsky. Darren practically forced Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis to only feed on their own breath and eye sleepies to get ballerina skinny for Black Swan, and now he's doing the opposite to Hugh. Hugh tells the L.A. Times (via SS):
"I’m on it right now, mate, already doing it. It’s 6,000 calories a day, it’s rough. Right now, I’m at 210. Yeah, right, I was 190, something like that. I don’t know how much I want to give away about it, but Darren said with the last one, ‘Hey you looked great, but you’re so tall that in those long shots you looked kind of like Clint Eastwood, and that’s not Wolverine.' He said that Wolverine, in the comics, is powerful, stocky, you know, he’s short and thick. So he said, ‘I want you to go there, get bigger.’"
6,000 calories a day? Pff, that ain't shit, said most of America. Hugh should come stay with me for a full week and I'll have him eating at least 60,000 calories a day. First of all, I eat as though my system is only powered by corn syrup and a bunch of shit I can't pronounce. Second of all, Hugh will constantly be stuffing his face because he'll never want his mouth to be free when I ask, "Can we make out?" Can we make out? In goes a monster burrito. Can we make out? In goes a whole jar of Fluff. Can we make out? There goes Hugh's mouth around my entire fridge.
But, Hugh, can we please start with something a little smaller and work our way up? That giant load is going to get up in everywhere! Contrary to popular belief, one neti pot session does not completely flush dried pieces of um...snowball...from the nostril. Better yet, it's better if you put that shit down before Charlie Sheen's nostril lands on you.
Hugh Jackmeoff almost lost his eyeball when he zip lined right into a stage light during Oprah's show, and today Elizabeth Hurley's one-time side piece Shane Warne almost fractured his dick bone when he threw a ball at him. And as soon as Hugh grabbed at his groin in pain, a dozen so-called nurses ran forward claiming that their saliva contains healing properties.
Who is trying to destroy Hugh? They tried to blind him and now they've tried to make him literally unfuckable by almost fracturing his crotch. Although, you can still hump on his crotch cast. But seriously, since Hugh was most likely wearing a cup, there was no damage to the goods and his peen can swing another day! But his overdramatic groin grab is still a wonderful belated Christmas gift.
And here's Hugh and his luscious beard leaving a gym in Sydney the other day.
Sort of. Not really. But Hugh Jackman almost became a one-eyed Australian
butt pirate today when a zip-lining stunt went terribly wrong! Hugh was supposed to make a grand entrance onto Oprah's show at the Sydney Opera House (please don't tell me they renamed it the Sydney Oprah House for her), but he hit the brakes too late and crashed into one of the lighting rigs. HUGH! You must protect THE FACE at all times! That's your money. This is an Australian law! Get a front face helmet! And two nipple helmets too while you're at it.
Here's the footage of Hugh's eye violently eye fucking a lighting rig. If you laugh, Hugh's baby frenchie makes a sad with his little mouth.
People says that Hugh's injury was as serious as a cum splatter to the eye. Paramedics patched up his small eye bruise and Hugh went on with the show. Hugh told the audience not to put the stunt team on execution row for the accident, because it was totally his fault: "I came down waving to everyone, looking over Sydney Harbor, saw my dad, the kids and you, went to pull the brake and then boing. Totally my bad."
It's a good thing that Hugh didn't lose his eyeballs, because then he wouldn't do that adorable "OW IT STINGS" thing when you get a little of your goodness on him during fucky times. But even if he did lose his eye, I'm sure Oprah would've given him a new one with diamonds in it. You get an eye, and you get an eye, and YOUUUUUU get an eye!
Even some of the biggest sluts I know have cut back on their random acts of ho shit out of fear that the scariest blood-sucking creature in New York (next to that old wheezy queen Carl Paladino, of course) will jump off of their one-night-stand's mattress and onto their nalgas to EAT EVERYTHING IN THEIR LIVES! I mean, a couple of weeks ago I watched some hot drunken ho with the bottom of her dress practically riding up to her neck stumble out of a bar and land right on an old sidewalk sofa. In her one moment of clarity, this bitch jumped off of it like it was Mel Gibson's face and started screaming about BED BUGS!!!! See, those asshole bed bugs are ruining everybody's game! But apparently, there's one bitch out here who HAHAHAHAs at our bed bug overlords.
Look at Hugh Jackmeoff lying on a giant bed bug nest like nothing while his daughter and wife think to themselves that they should pick up a few face masks and turtlenecks on the way home since they might have the complexion of Paris Hilton's labia in a few days.
Since I've already blown away all your senses with those life-changing pictures of Hugh Jackman on a scooter, here he is riding the subway with his kids in NYC yesterday. This really does change everything, because I was under the impression that Hugh only traveled through the city by scooter. You can't feel the wind on your nipples by riding on the subway. Well, actually you can if the crackhead next to you is breathing extra harder through his mouth because his nose is stuffed up with the cat litter he tried to snort earlier. Speaking of crackheads on the subway...
Why don't I ever see the likes of Hugh Jackmeoff on the subway? All I get is some crackhead with halitosis trying to woo my dollars into his pockets by serenading me with a cover of "Don't Worry Be Happy." Actually, now that I think about it, a crackhead singing a Bobby McFerrin song to you is more entertaining than seeing Hugh Jackman with his kids. Thank you for helping me clear that up, Hugh.