Do You Need A Moment?
I'll wait here while your ovaries twirl out of your vagina and form a heart shape around this picture before exploding into a white mist that will dance on a wave of wind to Upstate New York and land on the bottom of Ryan Gosling's jeans. Yup, that's what that is. Ryan took a break from charming the lens off of cameras with his maple syrup smoothness to sit on the front porch and bottle feed a baby friend while making eyes that say, "Hit Ctl + Alt + Pinch all you want, but this isn't a dream."
Meanwhile, that baby doesn't know whether to keep guzzling down the bottle leche or to laugh at the fact that Draco Malfoy is now a hipster house painter in Upstate New York. How the Death Eaters have fallen!
Here's more of Ryan Malfoy on the set of The Place Behind The Pines with a baby actor and Eva Mendes (who is obviously bringing the constipated ugliness to try to win an Oscar) yesterday. You probably didn't read a word of that since you were too distracted by your womb sitting on your shoulder while whispering "Get me that" into your ear over and over again. Your womb is so fucking tacky!
Rebecca Black will have to learn about the other days of the week at home, because she left school last semester after JELIZ H8RS kept making fun of her in the hallways. Rebecca's mom, who is schooling her at home in between helping with her career, tells ABC News (via TMZ) that the constant bullying became too much for Rebecca to take.
Well, at least Rebecca no longer has to make the Sophie's Choice decision about which seat to take. Rebecca explained the hate like this:
"When I walk by they'll start singing 'Friday' in a really nasally voice ... Or, you know, they'll be like, 'Oh hey, Rebecca, guess what day it is?'"
"Guess what day it is?!" Did those bullies go to the Disney Channel school of bullying?
Rebecca needs to travel with me to my 8th grade experience and watch as the kids asked me, "Oh hey, Michael, guess what? You're a dyke!" or "Oh hey, Michael, I can see your pussy in those shorts."
I swear, 7th grade and 8th grade are the worst. 6th grade is sunshine and happiness, but as soon you step into junior high, everybody becomes a full-blown cunt. Everybody. Junior high is just a quad full of cunts after a quad full of cunts. But even though it was a fiery inferno of hormonal cunts, it taught me a life lesson: be even cuntier. If it wasn't for the hell that is 7th grade, I might not have grown up to be a bitter old bitch who spews words of cuntiness on a daily basis. And Rebecca Black is totally missing out on the experience (no she isn't). Like I said before, what doesn't kill you, makes you cuntier, etc...
Or Rebecca can just get that experience by reading the comments under her mess of a music video.
Maybe it's because my own "abs" look like the bloated ass of a pig with an anorexic anus and the only other time I see dude abs is on celebwhores who obviously implanted plastic biscuits into their stomachs, but Gerard Butler's torso is making me bust out a Jessica Fletcher face. Right before a charity football match in Glasgow the other day, Greasy Gerry posed with his tongue and abs out in the locker room while Henrik Larsson wondered why his stomach looks like two sideways butts fading into each other. I see it too, Henrik, I see it too.
Gerry used to be as ripped as one of Kellan Lutz's nipples, and then he gained a little chunk, and now it looks like he's about step 2 into Christian Bale's DIY Machinist Diet. Gerry's abs went from a six-pack to a keg and now they look like a six-pack that has been drained and crushed. This tells me that once you get a six-pack, you cannot stop doing crunches EVER or your torso will turn into the face of a skinny blob fish.
So thanks for that, Gerry. Now I don't feel guilty about ignoring that ab crunch machine when I'm going to the elliptical at the gym. YES! Stop the everything, I've actually been doing exercise shit for about 10 minutes every two weeks. But only because I practically need an asthma inhaler after I move my mouse too fast. And because being on the elliptical makes me feel like I'm climbing up a never-ending flight of stairs with a big black dildo in each hand.
And for the record, I still would (Gerry AND the big black dildos on the elliptical).
Poor carriage horses in Central Park already have a shit deal since they are forced to pull around tourists all day and only get paid in stale hay and forced air kisses. But now they have it even worse, because they have to deal with tourists melting into a puddle of melodrama when they trip and fall onto the ground.
A tourist took the above video of her giving birth to a full-fledged panic attack after the horse pulling the carriage she was riding in got spooked for a minute and then fell. Homegirl's mind jumped out of her head and she ran from that horse faster than Fishsticks Paltrow runs away from non-organic wine. I haven't seen a horse make a "....the fuck is wrong with you?" face like that since the almost trampling of Tish Cyrus. Where is a feed bag full of Valium and an escort to the glue factory when you really need 'em? (For the lady, not the horse.)
Consumerist says that during the RUN FOR YOUR LIVES freakout, the lady left her purse in the carriage. When she went back to get it, she was shocked, appalled and all of the above after realizing that the driver was about to take the horse back out to pick up more passengers. The lady cursed out the driver in the NSFW-ish video below.
A rep for the Horse and Carriage Driver's Association called the lady "crazy" and said that they checked out the horse after the fall and made sure the horse was fine.
It's times like this that I can't help but not be mad at who ever created horses. Yes, they gave horses the ability to kick a ho, but couldn't they also give them the ability to gently double slap a ho in the face. Because everybody involved needs a hoof to the cheek.
via The Daily What
My wet dreams tell me that when you take a mythical ride on the mighty hammer of Thor on ASkars' crotch, you are suddenly shot into a magical world of wonder where all nipples look like they belong in a Maynards bag and you develop an uncanny ability to make complete sense out of assembly instructions for Ikea furniture. So the fall from that euphoric orgasm is probably a hard one and leads you to do dark and dirty shit. Unfortunately for Kate's stomach, that "dark and dirty shit" doesn't involve eating something other than water soup and oxygen burgers. Instead of eating her feelings, Kate is fugging up her feelings and wearing them all over her body.
While leaving a Coldplay concert in L.A. last night with movie director Michael Polish, Kate looked like a wet troll doll stuck on top of a pencil. Easter egg dye is reserved only for hard boiled eggs, not for the splintery mop of straw on your head, ho.
When you tell who ever is doing your hair that you want it to look like a melted Firecracker Popsicle without the fire and he quits your ass on the spot, you should take that as a hint. Bitch looks like the broom my abuelita used when she tried to sweep blue cake frosting off of the patio after my 7th birthday party. (Yeah, I don't know why abuelitas always try to sweep shit that isn't sweepable.)
Although, Kate did show up to a Coldplay concert even though there were rumors that Chris Martin cheated on Fishy with her, so I'll give her that. Anything that makes Fishsticks Paltrow ask the concierge at her hotel in Paris where the nearest organic kitten imported from Holland is so she can punch it is fine by me. (Note: I do not condone taking out your frustrations on a kitten. Organic or otherwise.)
Elle Magazine should really change their name to The Hell? Magazine this month, because Fishsticks Paltrow has nearly outdone herself by launching clueless shit nugget after clueless shit nugget off of her tongue during the interview.
Name dropping Jay-Z and Beyonce so much that they are considering dropping and changing their names completely so Fishy will never be able to find them? CHECK!
Bragging about how strangers come up to her and compliment her hot post-baby bikini body? CHECK!
Saying that she's got the dirtiest mouth out of all her friends even though we all know that the word "fuck" sounds like the name of a 5-star Czechoslovakian restaurant when her pretentious ass says it? CHECK!
Starting stretching your eyeballs and get ready to roll:
On getting support from Beyoncé on her surprise duet with Cee Lo Green at the Grammys: “This story always makes me cry…It’s 10 in the morning and Beyoncé schleps it all the way down to the Staples Center to watch. I mean, She’s Beyoncé !”
On the advice Beyoncé gave her before her performance: “Beyoncé’s like, ‘Okay. The singing is great. But you’re not having any fun.’ She’s like, ‘Remember when we’re at Jay’s concert and Panjabi MC comes on and you do your crazy Indian dance? Do that. Be you!’”
On creating a solo album: “Beyoncé and Jay—they think that I should just go do it by myself. That I should go…in a studio and see what happens. And if it’s good, do it. And if it’s not, don’t. So that’s probably what I’ll do.”
And then after Beyonce told Fishy to do her Indian dance, she turned to her cousin and was like, "Remember when you peed yourself while laughing at that bitch do her Indian dance at Jay's concert? Don't drink any water, because you're going to be doing a lot more laughing tonight. Panjabi MC! He wasn't even at Jay's show. I made it up and she nods at me like 'uh huh.' Bitch is crazy. Oh, and can you believe she asked me if I would help her with her album? Is my name Basement Baby, bitch? I told her to do it by herself. Like I need another bomb on my hands. I should've given her that shitty Girls Who Rule The World song. "
Fishy then swam past the topic of her music and got into GOOP:
On deciding to launch GOOP: “When you go to Paris and your concierge sends you to some… restaurant because they get a kickback, it’s like, No. Where should I really be? Where is the great bar with organic wine? Where do I get a bikini wax in Paris? People know that I know that…”
On going public with her personal care regimens: “It’s so much easier to sit home and not exercise and criticize other people. What I love is inspiring people. People come up to me and say, ‘I want to have two kids and wear a bathing suit and not feel terrible about myself. I see how hard you work and it makes me feel like I can do that too.’”
Who in the hell are these terrible people going up to Fishy and saying that bullshit?! Tell them the concierge from their Paris hotel recommends a wonderful restaurant with organic wine and complimentary bikini waxes. It's called Le Go Jump Off A Fucking Cliff. Moving on...
Did you know Fishy is the funniest person in the world? I have to agree with her. Fishy proved it by comparing Chris Martin to Picasso.
On showing the world a different side of herself: “If you speak to my friends who’ve known me since I was four, they’ll say, ‘That is her.’ They always said to me, ‘You’re the dirtiest person in the world and so funny. Show the world that side of you.’ I felt guarded. I felt like if I really showed people more of me and I was still not accepted, then…Who cares. You just realize it doesn’t matter what people think of you.”
On choosing not to go to her husband, Coldplay’s Chris Martin for advice on music: “[He’s] a musical genius. It’s like living with Picasso, and being like, ‘Should I make a little something-something?’”
On keeping her marriage out of the spotlight: “He makes music for his fans, and he doesn’t want people to conjure a lame famous couple when they’re getting into his music. I get it.”
And now can you ask our concierge where there's a good place to take a nap, because reading a Fishsticks interview always makes me feel like I just got a Brazilian wax on my brain.
After Caleb "Puts The Ill In" Followill blamed the heat for the reason why he quit in the middle of a show in Dallas on Friday night, his brother and bandmate Jared said in so many Tweets that the problem is bigger "than not drinking enough Gatorade." Well, the problem has forced the Kings of Leon to cancel every single date on their US tour and take the rest of the summer off. KoL: 0 Pigeons: 2
A rep for KoL pulled out an excuse from 2007 and blamed "exhaustion" as the reason why the band won't start yodeling again until the end of September. The rep said this shit:
"We are so sorry to say ... [cancellation is] due to Caleb Followill suffering from vocal issues and exhaustion. The band is devastated, but in order to give their fans the shows they deserve, they need to take this break. The band will resume touring in Canada at the Rogers Center in Vancouver, B.C., on September 28. That show was originally scheduled for September 14th."
Ticket holders will get their cash back, but none of the US shows will be rescheduled. Jared said on Twitter that he's depressed and that the decision is completely out of his hands.
Exhaustion, really? Are we still using the word "exhaustion" as a publicist's term for "BITCH IS A FUCKING DRUNK"? Okay, then.
But seriously, some rock stars these days are so damn fragile. I mean, Iggy Pop is at least 300 years old, all of his internal organs and his sweat glands disintegrated into dust years ago, and he'd still perform in the middle of a volcano while a herd of elephants shit on him from above. The Texas heat and pigeon shit? That's child's play to Iggy!
via The L.A. Times
Caleb Followill, the lead singer of Kings of Leon, issued an "I QUIT THIS BITCH" during a show in Dallas, TX last night and pigeon shit was not to blame this time.
Caleb's skin is a fragile layer of daisy petals that wilts in the heat and so he couldn't take it. TMZ reports that Caleb stopped in the middle of the show, told the audience that it was way too hot for him and said he was going backstage to vomit and drink a beer. While KoL's fans stood in the dead heat, precious Caleb was carried off to his all-white dressing room where slaves hand fed him Evian ice cubes and fanned him with swan feathers while spritzing his face with 60º Perrier from a crystal bottle. "My rider says that you must spray my face with 60º Perrier and my face is telling me that Perrier is at least 66º! I hate you! You're fucking fired! Ugh. And now I'm hot again. You there, put on those panda uterus skin gloves and massage my temples with some chilled creme de la blended diamonds. What did I say about making eye contact?! I hate my life. Those children in Ethiopia have no idea how good they have it!" - Caleb, last night
The audience waited, but Caleb never came back out. Two of his bandmates did and announced that the rest of the show was canceled. They told the audience, "Hate Caleb, not us."
Tonight's show in Houston was also postponed. Caleb's brother and bandmate, Jared Followill, threw a little shade when he wrote this on Twitter:
Dallas, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. There are internal sicknesses & problems that have needed to be addressed. No words.
I love our fans so much. I know you guys aren't stupid. I can't lie. There are problems in our band bigger than not drinking enough Gatorade.
What he's trying to say is that KoL fans should synchronize their watches for the inevitable "Caleb is in rehab due to exhaustion" announcement.
And I'm sure Jared got Caleb back for ditching the show by slipping a pea under the stack of mattresses he sleeps on every night.
If Gary Busey could remember who Meat Loaf is, he would laugh his mouth Chiclets off over what went down in Pittsburgh last night. Meat Loaf was in the middle of a show when his knees suddenly hit the stage floor like a narcoleptic bat out of hell. As one person slow clapped for Meat Loaf, medics helped him up and took him backstage. Meat Loaf later stumbled back on stage to finish the show and said the words most of us long to say from the bottom of a bathroom stall at the end of a Saturday night.
"I fucking fainted. I have asthma ... I can't breathe ... and then ... oh wait, I forgot ... I got poked by a pin and bled half to death ... and then I got slapped in the face and my tooth is loose."
So, basically Meat Loaf felt the way most of us feel when we read a dozen Buseyisms in a row.
It's another day, which means the grouchy old grass fed cunt that is Morrissey is once again spitting out his own toe nails while spitting out a statement that is offending a lot of people. Morrissey once called the Chinese a "subspecies" and at a concert in Poland on Sunday, his name ended up on a whole new group of people's Shut The Fuck Up List when he compared the massacre in Norway to fast food. This mess came out of Moz's meat-free pie hole before he sang his song "Meat is Murder":
“We all live in a murderous world, as the events in Norway have shown, with 97 dead [sic].
Though that is nothing compared to what happens in McDonald’s and Kentucky Fried shit every day."
Then Moz went on to say, "And 9/11 ain't nothing compared to what's happening on the buffet line at Sizzler."
If this is Morrissey's way of trying to get a place on Spaz de la Huerta's debate team for crazies, then he can stop right now, because I'm pretty sure she's FedEx-ing him a team blazer right now.
We all already know that Morrissey mostly hates people and has an undying love for animals (although, the feeling is not mutual for some animals). Sometimes I feel the same way, but to say that fast food is worse than the massacre of children? Everything is a tragedy competition to his ass. Like if I told him I had a headache, he'd probably say, "Poor you! What about the pig who has no head, because it was murdered for that hot dog you're eating."
I say this as a fan of Morrissey's music (it's the junior high school chola in me), please just shut the fuck up already and get fucked. Since you're off meat forever, fuck yourself with a tree branch. xo.