If you're on a flight from L.A. to NYC and Anderson Cooper is quietly drifting into a silver fox slumber behind you, you have to take a picture of it. It'd be the most IMPORTANT thing in your life. You're taking care of a screaming baby and that baby refuses to shut up? Show that annoying baby a picture of Andy Coo sleeping and that baby's eyes will be too busy getting lost in that picture that it will forget to cry. You're eating delicious pancakes at a Denny's and a fight breaks out (because that's just what happens at Denny's). Show all those fighting whores a picture of Andy Coo sleeping and their raging assholes will instantly cool and you'll be able to enjoy your delicious pancakes in peace. You're on a date with me and trying to get away without being too obvious. Whip out that picture and make your escape as I lick the screen. Yes, you'll lose a phone since I'll eventually shove it down the back of my chonies, but that's a small price to pay. What I'm saying is that a picture of Andy Coo doing mimi times is THAT soothing and THAT hypnotic. But the Silver Fox wants no part of that shit and read a bitch his rights for trying to capture that magical moment on his iPhone.
On Kathy last night, Andy said that on his 6am flight to L.A., he was trying to sleep when a sneaky bitch with an iPhone tried to get a picture of him. Andy wasn't having it, so he grabbed that dude's shoulder and spit out the line is my ringtone for EVERYTHING! Andy asked that ho, "Bitch, what ... are you doing?'"
Oh, and the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice himself, Johnny Weir, was sitting in the next to Andy while all of this went down!!!!
So to recap: Anderson Cooper went on Kathy and told a story about how he called a bitch a "bitch" while sitting next to Johnny Weir. This is the best gay pride gift ever!
via LA Times
If a bitch ain't getting engaged (see: Retha and LeBron James), then a bitch is getting married. The dried piece of tortured horse meat that is the sanctity of marriage was kicked in its core this past weekend when that slut pig Brandi AnalGlanville married one of her douche hole friends for a day (and for fucking shits), but it also got a sprinkling of glitter on it when human unicorn horn Johnny Weir married his Russian lawyer boyfriend Victor Voronov. Somewhere, there's a foot massager with a broken heart.
Johnny Twatted this out about his new marriage:
I'm married! @vitya_zvesda ♥
@Jillzarin Wedding in summer! But all the official stuff is done now! No more livin' in sin!
That summer wedding is on its knees and begging to be filmed for a reality show and I'm on my knees right next to it. Johnny's wedding is going to be a decadent display of rhinestone-encrusted EXTRAVAGANZAAAAA! Haven't you always dreamed of seeing a groom wearing a tuxedo made entirely of gold leaf? Johnny will make that dream come true. Haven't you always dreamed of watching flower girls dressed in swan costumes make figure eights around the two grooms standing under an altar covered in fur flowers? Johnny will make that dream come true. Haven't you always dreamed of seeing two grooms exchange vows in Russian as an almost naked harpist plays the theme song to Doctor Zhivago? Johnny will make that dream come true.
Johnny and Victor are totally going to get married at this palace of pure elegance:
They mayke yo dreemz come thru! And you can trust them, because they lifted their hands all grand-like when they said it.
And no, Johnny's dog is not eating your soul with its radioactive eyes. Johnny is so magical that whenever he touches a creature, its eyes turn into glowing mood rings.
On the left is the Crystal Enchantress of the Ice Johnny Weir signing copies of his memoirs at Macy's in Philadelphia the other day. On the right is the forever reigning pretty pretty prince of the Internet Peter Pan Dude.
Both are what a fluffy white chicken would look like if it tried to escape the farm by disguising itself as Dorothy Hamill. Both could actually convince a room of strangers that Stuart from MADtv was based on them. Both could bedazzle a sheet of toilet paper by wiping their derrieres on it. Both piss hummingbird juice and huckleberry nectar. Both could give a sparkler show just by burping. And both have a nickname for their peen that could double as the name of a Popple.
Johnny is not one to Xerox copy a ho's entire look, so I will assume he's paying homage to the one and only Peter Pan Dude. I mean, who doesn't open their closet in the morning and tell themselves that they want to look like Moe Howard meets Peter Pan Dude meets a Palm Springs divorcee?
Pull out your umbrellas and brace yourselves for the thousands of dead birds that will fall from the sky after dying of shock from learning that Johnny Weir is pretty much gay. After refusing to discuss his sexuality for years, the graceful golden swan of the frozen lake confesses in his new memoir that when it comes to sex, he prefers the peen. But then Johnny says that he's completely open to marrying a woman. I see what you did there, Johnny. If you're trying to get closer to Liza with a Z, it's definitely working. Why didn't I think of that?
The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice Johnny Weir already makes spark of magic with his blades when he twirls around the ice like a delicate unicorn chasing a bubble, and now he's hoping to spread a thin layer of glitter over your ear drums with his singing voice... Now, I don't think that's glitter over my ear drums, but there's definitely a thin layer of something in my ears after listening to his first single called "Dirty Love." This mess sort of sounds like some random 80s song as covered by Disneyland's Tomorrow Land Band on a Saturday afternoon, so I'm not sure what to make of it. I'll just leave it here for you to judge:
And instead I'm going to focus on that cover of Johnny looking like a model in Project Runway's Clan of the Cave Bear challenge.
Phoebe Price is an international supermodel who has toplined the most prestigious food court fashion shows in Perris and has graced the cover of a dozen fashion magazines published by a Knott's Berry Farm photo booth, so I really shouldn't question her style choices, but what in the name of the coat of many colors does she have on her truly exquisite body?!
Did a two-headed crow attack her in the head which caused her to fall and get tangled up in the backyard clothesline of a lady who holds the Guinness World Record for the largest collection of fugly ass bedspreads? PP is a goddess molded from a mound of ground chipolte chicken, and that dress is not worthy of her beauty.
With all that being said, Chicken Cutlets was still the best dressed at last night's American Mess Awards. I mean, look at her competition:
Ke$ha - Bitch's dress looks the inside of my broke Boom Box after it chewed on and warped one of my Alice Cooper tapes. No points for those stud brows.
Nicki Minaj - Is she wearing the skeleton of one RPattz's golden unicorns? This is not a total fail since her hair is looking like a yellow & green Jello parfait.
The Smiths sans Will - Have the Smith family recently checked the batteries on their carbon monoxide detectors, because that's the only reasonable explanation for this kind of foolery.
RiRi - An extra clotty tampon comes to mind....
Taylor Swift or Kat Stacks?
Johnny Weir - His beauty is almost on par with Phoebe's so there's no shade to throw.
Will.I.Cant - Really, I can't anymore.
The dude from Train - When he performed last night, his pants sparkled like Edward Cullen's peen under a spotlight.
Actually, since I put it that way the dude from Train gets best dressed. PP is a close second!
The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice Johnny Weir hung up his polar bear stole and his boa made from bedazzled swan feathers for the night to slip into a Hogwarts uniform that puts the HUFF and PUFF in Hufflepuff. Harry Potter's wand will not stop spitting out the glitter once it gets a piece of this. Pee Weir Herman cast a bretha mortis spell (aka the killing these hos spell) at last night's NYC premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Swallows, and then he gave them life again by popping a hip to pose. Everyone was slytherin' in their pants.
And those who had to clean their mess in the bathroom after laying their eyes on Johnny were: Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, DanRad, Matthew Broderick with his son and Voldemort's mistress, Joey Fatone with his daughter, Precious, Tom Felton, Ralph Fineass, Liam Neeson, The First Drunk of New York, Lourdes Leon and Darren Criss.
Aisha Tyler needs to immediately report to the nurse's office and hand over a signed excuse from her parents for why she showed up to Logo's NewNowNext Awards last night with only a faint shadow of an eyebrow over her eye. I snatch that back. There is no excuse for this! I don't care if a dingo ate your Sharpie or if meth got your brows, you find a way to make that shit work!
And if Aisha is trying to make the whole "no brows" thing happen, then she needs to stop right now because it's a losing battle. Looking like "Mona Lisa working at a shake and bake meth lab in Barstow" will never be the look. I don't care what anyone says. Like Klymaxx and Pop Rocks gum, brows will always be relevant.
Here's a bunch of other bitches from last night who also should be ashamed of themselves! They let Aisha go in front of the camera like that. There's enough make-up amongst them to cover the faces of a million Xtinas, so they could've easily queefed out a brow for Aisha. These are the names you need to right down in the detention log: Baby Jesus, two free clinic rejects, Pee Weir Herman, Tatiana, Ongina, Mystique Summers, Kelly Osbourne, a Slim Jim in a dress, Kat Von D, and Niecy Nash.
The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice has really nothing to do with music or movies, but the producers of the MTV Movie Awards (or the alternatively titled The Jacking Twilight Off Awards) lured him to their party by promising him a lubed-up foot massager named Daddy on his seat because they knew every single rhinestone on every single low-budget celebwhore would not shine unless he was there. True fact: If you see a rhinestone glimmering, it isn't because the light is hitting it. It's because it's winking at Johnny Weir.
But seriously, Johnny was probably rolling his eyes in the audience, because his no-no can do that naturally without help from a battery pack or light bulbs. Xtina should leave the pussy blinking to the pros.
Here's a few pictures of the other bitches at last night's show. They are: Shaun White and his fur nips, Xtina, Russell Brand, Vanessa Hudgens and Cover Girl Zac Efron, ScarJo, Katy Perry, Snooki, The Guido Don Knotts, Kristen Stewart and RPattz.
Liza Minnelli has a pair of priceless eyebrows that make me want to lounge on them while smoking skinny cigars and mouthing the words to a Judy Garland song, so she can pretty much do no wrong. BUT I cannot ignore the full-blown fuggery she wrapped herself in last night for the Sixty in the City 2 premiere in New York City. Bitch. What.
Liza looks like a honey glazed ham wrapped in an oven bag and ready for roasting! Just sprinkle some pineapple rings and cloves on her ass. And I'd never thought I'd ever write this sentence, but what in the name of David Gest's cunt plug is going on with her chichi area? Did Phoebe Price's chicken cutlets hug on to Liza's titties so that they could get their picture taken at the SATC2 premiere? If so, those bitches are good.
The rest of the hos at last night's premiere were almost as messy as Liza's Party City ensemble. In order: Suzanne Somers, Johnny Weir (still in 1960s serious lesbian wear), Mrs. Rojo, Kristin Davis, JLove, Dayglo My Little Pony, Kim Cattrall, Chaz Bono's puckering no-no, and Bo Derek.