Maurice Sendak is best known for writing Where The Wild Things Are? and now he's best known to me for making me say "Andy Rooney, who?!" out loud. 83-year-old Maurice made my soul coo out 8 crusty and chapped hearts during his interview with The Guardian about writing children books, hating bitches and hating bitches some more. Here are just 8 things that Maurice is growling at (alternate title: 8 reasons why I want to make children with an 83-year-old grand cunt):
E-books: "I hate them. It's like making believe there's another kind of sex. There isn't another kind of sex. There isn't another kind of book! A book is a book is a book."
NYC: "You get pushed and harassed and people grope you. It's too tumultuous, it's too crazy!"
Rupert Murdoch: "His name should be what everything is called now. (Reporter: But doesn't he publish your books?) Yes! Harpers. He owns Harpers and I guess the rest of the world, too. He represents how bad things have become. But I don't know a better house. They're all in trouble. They're all terrible."
American politics: "These Republican schnooks would be comical if they weren't not funny."
Salman Rushdie: "That flaccid fuckhead. He was detestable. I called up the Ayatollah, nobody knows that."
Roald Dahl: "The cruelty in his books is off-putting. Scary guy. I know he's very popular but what's nice about this guy? He's dead, that's what's nice about him."
Stephen King: "Bullshit."
Gwyneth Paltrow: "I can't stand her."
These quotes should be published into a hardcover book with illustrations and read to every single child before bedtime. This is mandatory.
I don't care if reading one of Cher's Tweets makes me feel like a blind person trying to read Braille written in chewed-up dot candies, when I uncross my eyes and finally see what she's trying to say it makes my everything. Picturing Cher in her don't fuck with me boots spiking Kim Kartrashian in the triple dirty diaper ass up and down the 405 freeway is a dollop of whipped everything on top of my everything.
When the Kardashian's "fans" (aka Pimp Mama Kris and Baby Mason working overtime in the Kardashian Kommand Kenter) questioned Cher's Tweets, she backpedaled a little, but it was too late. Cher has spoken and she got it right the first time! Kick those bitches down the freeway (which probably looks a lot like throwing a hot dog down a hallway).
And if you're wondering what Cher's child was up to last night, here he is swaying his polyester-slather fupa with Lacey Schwimmer who looked like Donatella Versace looking into a fun house mirror after my 6th grade Antarctica diorama project (featuring sea foam, seals and albatrosses galore) exploded on her. If you told me that Chaz Rumbas as good as Cher operates a keyboard, I wouldn't call you a lie teller.
This is the moment in your life when you realize that New Balance sneakers sort of resemble the hooves of a unicorn that have only touched the rainbow clouds on a Lisa Frank folder. You should write that into your memory journal in glitter pen.
The last time the traffic of breaths running from your mouth to your lungs stopped was when Richard Simmons frolicked on a trail of bedazzled starfruits that fall out of his front b-hole (don't you have one too?) while spreading his genius in Beverly Hills. You immediately printed that picture out on strawberry-scented paper and stuck it to to your inspiration board since Richard is what we should all aspire to be. Well, you've got another to add to the board.
Richard, who is what you get when you feed Billy Crystal sugar-free Jolly Ranchers juice after midnight, stepped out again in L.A. yesterday wearing another Toddlers & Tiaras original and the kind of chunky pearl necklace Fred Flinstone gave to Wilma Flinstone. Yabba Dabba Do is right!
Richard looks like the Tooth Fairy's way more fabulous and glittier second cousin the No-No Fairy who slips a Sweatin' to the Oldies DVD under your pillow every time your no-no puckers. You're going to need a bigger pillow, because I'm sure the sight of these pictures is making you pucker like Renee Zellweger giving a beej to Mr. Lemonhead. I feel like I've been Care Bear Stared!
FINALLY! What this site really needs. No, not a proof reader (keep dreaming)! We're finally getting some Sinead O'Connor. Here's Sinead with hair like a toddler circa 1978 and a hot top that features a window screen into the diamond eye of Ireland on her belly at Natty Waller's show in Bray, Island last night.
Sinead is looking like the goth girl in high school who grew up to be the local librarian and is always bothering hos to donate to the cat food fund so she can feed the alley pussies behind the Moon Goddess Emporium. Yup, Sinead definitely looks like she's been sitting in on Marnie's coven meetings.
Sinead also looks like she went to the doctor and guess what he told her? Guess what he told her? He told her, "Girl, you're knocked up." Maybe she isn't. Who cares. She's Sinead O'Fucking Connor! She knocked the altar boy dicks out of the Catholic Church's mouth by ripping up The Pope's picture on national TV. She can do or wear whatever the hell she wants. All arguments are invalid.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to slap my hands with a chanklita for typing "knocked the altar boy dicks out of the Catholic Church's mouth" on a Sunday of all days. My abuelita is going to do it sooner or later, so I might as well beat her to the slap.
Betty White has officially broken the fragile heart of Sgt. Ray Lewis, the Marine who did one full pull up (ONE FULL PULL UP) in the video where he asked America's forever sweetheart to be his date to the Marine Corp Ball. Betty did the opposite of what Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis did by turning his ass down. Betty said thank you, but no thank you, when the L.A. Times asked if she was going. Bitch has to work!
"I am deeply flattered and truly appreciate the invitation. As everyone knows, I love a man in uniform ... but unfortunately I cannot accept, as I will be taping an episode of 'Hot in Cleveland.'
Love, Betty White."
So now a Marine will go to the ball alone where he'll sit in a darkened corner stroking the corsage he made for Betty White out of Werther's Originals while fighting back lonely tears as the terrorists take to the streets carrying victory flags with Betty White's face on 'em. Nope. Still don't hate her. And now can we be done with all these damn invites? (Unless, a Marine is planning to invite a Kardashian only so that he can get her on stage and under a bucket full of pig's blood. If that's the case, carry on.)
Mischa Barton needs to have a seat and learn from a true style icon who knows that pairing red sparkly glasses (to match his red sparkly no-no lips) with tan hose, peek-a-boo shorts and a Muppet tank top is the only way to go!
This highly important international news story that is relevant to all of our interests is one that I missed yesterday, but thankfully some of your asses won't let me miss it. Because if there's something I love, it's a SLUT WALK (or as Taylor Momsen calls it, "Sunday"). It all started when a fucknotted piece of chewed up dumb (official name: Toronto Police Constable Michael Sanguinetti) told students at Toronto's York University that if women don't want to get raped, they shouldn't dress like sluts. This inspired three 20-something girls to fight for the right to dress like a Jodie Marsh by organizing a gigantic Slut Walk in front of police headquarters on Sunday afternoon.
Thousands of women put on their favorite whore uniforms and protested against the constable trying to keep a good slut dresser down. Just because a hereho's titties are hiked up to her nostrils and her pussy lips are waving under her skirt in the wind, doesn't give anybody the right to reach out and touch them without an invitation. Ben Roethlisberger just exploded into a GHB-laced ball of confusion.
I fully support every slut's right to freely dress like a proud slut whenever and wherever she wants without fear! Some people get a smile in their heart when they see a freshly bloomed flower reaching toward the sun, but I get a smile in my heart when I see a for real ho struttin' down the stroll in lucite stilts and a double titty souffle spilling out of her latex corset. That image is my flower!
That being said, they should've asked me to curate this Slut Walk event, because some of those outfits..... Are you really going to wear your junior high school knit hoodie with a pair of lace hose?! Get thee to a Frederick's outlet and fix yourself! I love a slut, but I don't love a sloppy slut. Call me next year!
The 89th anniversary of the day the gods gifted the world with the earth angel that is Betty White was actually on Monday, but her hard partying weekend of blackout debauchery forced her to confess her sins to her Saint Bea candle, buy bootleg morning after pills on Craigslist, get (NSFW) the cat with a bowtie tattoo on her vagina removed and make her court date for public intoxication, so her Hot In Cleveland castmates couldn't throw a party for her until last night.
At Le Cirque in NYC, Valerie Bertinelli, Jane Leeves and Wendie Malick presented America's grandmother with a giant Metamucil cake with creme de Ben Gay frosting (that strangely sounds kind of good).
And here's a video from the future of me and a special friend (you decide which is which) wishing the eternally young Betty White a happy birthday.
I'm not joking. That is totally my future.
Calvin Tran, the villainess on The Fashion Show who stole my heart and then whipped it into a bedazzled clutch, already gave us a quote that I'm going to cross stitch on a sofa pillow as soon as I learn how to cross stitch. And at the end of last night's episode, he delivered again. After almost every contestant turned on him in front of the judges, Calvin promised REVENGE with these threatening words:
"Cesar deny me on stage. Dominique, stabbing me in the back. Jeffrey kick the crap out of me. Oh, now the new ballgame has just drop-it. So I'm coming back, and just like eh. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"
Yeah, Cesar and Dominique, so watch out, because Cesar is coming back with a new ballgame to drop on you. Or something like that. You know what Calvin means!
Christina Hendricks and her magnificent chichis could melt the UV protection off my eye glasses, but seeing Cher with a ginger mop on her head proves to me that she was meant to play Joan in Mad Men. WOOO! DONNY DRAPER! We all see it! But in Christina's defense, if Cher had a blonde pigtail wig on I'd say that she was meant to play Little Sally Draper too. So what I'm getting at is that they should just erase the entire cast of Mad Men and redo it with Cher in every role.
Cher dropped a Florence + the Machine on her head and slipped into one of Morticia's old dressing gowns for the London premiere of Burlesque tonight where she was joined by Veronica Mars and Xtina.
Speaking of Xtina, ever since one of my friends recently said that she looks like she should be singing with Tommy Gnosis in a diner I've been all about her mess of a look. If only Xtina went FULL HEDWIG and fixed her Vincent Price-like eyebrow situation.