If your eyeballs haven't turned into stone balls from staring deep into Sarah Jessica Parker's crotch ("I haven't even stared at the Crotch of Sauron" - Matthew Broderick), then slow clap for her Iggy Pop-looking ass, because she took the night's theme of "punk" and galloped away with it. She looks like vomit and diarrhea from a punk sprayed against a velvet plaid sofa and that headpiece looks like a fancy horse's idea of a mohawk. Spartacus just wants to hop on her back and together they'll lead the slave uprising against the Roman Republic! Bitch went hard, looks a wreck and I love it.
And here's pictures just 1/100th of the bitches who showed up to the Met Gala tonight and completely pulled an opposite SJP by ignoring the theme. In order: Kate Upton (didn't try), Jennifer Lawrence (didn't try), Gavin Rossdale (semi-tried), Gwen Stefani (probably tried but gave up and threw napkins on her bod instead), Carey Mulligan (didn't try), JLo (didn't try, should've been escorted to the exit), Kristen Stewart (semi-tried, because looking like an embroidered used tampon is sort of punk rock), Katy Perry (um, did any of these hos know what the theme was?) and the Queen of the Death Eaters.
Kim Kardashian's farts are infused with the human souls she devours, so you'd think that Anna Wintour would love her and they'd bond over their mutual love of torture while bathing in the blood of the living, but nope! Anna Wintour would rather wear a Juicy Couture tracksuit with Crocs than even speak Kim Kartrashian's name. Kanye West is forever Anna's homegirl and she'll gladly get a Brazilian next to him any day of the week, but she hates everything about Kim Kardashian.
A source tells Star (via Radar) that when Kim and Kanye were whoring themselves out during New York Fashion Week, Anna would run into them at shows and she'd blow air kisses at Gay Fish, but she refused to even look at Pimp Mama Kris' prized heifer. Anna sent Kanye an invitation to last year's MET Costume Gala, but she wouldn't let him bring Kim.
Anna Wintour should've been fired for putting that humanized strip of oatmeal paste Blake NotSoLively on the cover of Vogue more than once, but she has redeemed herself for putting a permanent ban on all things Kuntrashian. But whatever, I'm sure PMK is rolling her eyes at this. PMK doesn't need Anna Wintour! PMK recently got Kim a cover of Vogue, thankyouverymuch. Yes, it's the cover of Vogue Serengeti, but it's still Vogue!
And here's Kim "taking it easy" by walking around L.A. in stilt heels while looking like an overstuffed sausage disguised as a business woman.
I know. I know. It's Met Ball bukkake on Dlisted today, but this is hopefully my last post on this mess and I'm going out on a terrifying note by giving you things that do bumps in the night. While human hos at the ball sipped on calorie-free champagne, these vampires, zombies, charbroiled trolls and grandma witches sipped on calorie-free carbonated souls. If you put your ear to the screen, you can practically hear the screeches from a pristine young virgin running naked through the halls of the Met as these scary bitches chase after her. Where was Scooby-Doo and the rest of the Mystery, Inc. gang when hos needed them most?
Grab your crucifix, put your garlic bulb anal chain around your neck and get close to the Royal Court of the Death Eaters. In order: Mary-Kate Olsen (looking like the Snow White witch after the dwarves dropped that boulder on her), Anna Wintour, Ronnie Wood (with his toddler-aged girlfriend), Sarah Jessica Parker with Tan Mom's skin idol Valentino, Donatella Versace, Chupa Zoe and Lana Del Taco.
Brought to you by Becks' Facebook page (via Buzzfeed), here's Posh Beckham making icicles form on the assholes of Lucifer's minions in hell by actually cracking a slight smile while doing a "ball check" pose in front of her husband's billboard in NYC. This is some historic shit since we all figured Posh's mouth was permanently flatlining into bitch mode. Posh can smile! But Posh stopped smiling after a dude parked his car in front of her, got out and tried to stick a quarter in her mouth since she's as skinny as a damn meter.
And here's a few hilariously awkward pictures of Posh, Hamish Bowles and Anna Wintour in the subway at the inaugural run of a Union Jack covered car for the GREAT Britain campaign in NYC today. It's known that Posh would give all five hundred of her kids to get on the cover of American Vogue and Anna Wintour's acting like she's not even alive. To be honest, I don't even know if Posh is alive, because damn it looks like she shares a make-up artist with The Walking Dead. I feel like I'm Haley Joel Osment and she's one of my ghost visitors. Posh is looking like a Dark Crystal puppet inspired by The Curious Case of Ali Lohan and the Mexican zombie (Zombican?) from the Black Eyed Peas. Somebody get Posh 1/1000th of a Triple Bypass Burger!
Kunty Karl gritting his grave dust teeth as he grins like he just let out his final fart (and is loving it) and Anna Wintour making a smug face like a pug in a wig smelling her secret enemy's final fart (and is loving it) could only mean one thing: they're the ones who sent Madge that hydrangea!!!!
Death Eaters: 1
Vampires: Zeerio! (I'm trying to speak British so Madge understands me.)
It's sort of fitting that Anna Wintour's head is positioned right over Sienna Miller's crotch, because I've always pictured Sienna's vagina as a snarling boil with soul-nibbling eyes who growls at anything that doesn't resemble a stick. No, that dude Sienna Miller is throwing "please pet me" eyes at is not Teen Wolf's dad. It's Sienna's current boyfriend Tom Sturridge who sat with her in Anna Wintour's box (yes, I see what I did there) at the French Open in Paris yesterday.
Where the hell is an extra-strength detangler and an iron brush when you really need them, because this picture is where Scraggly goes when it needs to find itself. They all look like they call Riff Raff their leader. A mess.
And how is Sienna going to go from Jude Law to a dude who uses Rogaine as a face moisturizer? From one extreme to the next. Well, I guess I'd have hearts in my eyes too for a dude who could exfoliate my taint while he licks on my genitals.
Andre Leon Talley is the most influential person in the fashion world (as Tyra Banks tells us every single week on America's Next Top Model) and he really didn't disappoint at last night's MET Costume Gala last night when he floated onto the red carpet like the ethereal gay dream version of some University's mascot. You can tell that when his farts billow through that gown, they smell like blueberries dipped in melted grape chapstick. When ALT is done with that old gown, he can donate it to the entire graduating class (EVERY SCHOOL) of 2011! There's room in there for all of them.
The Vixen of Vogue wasn't the only trick who served scalding hot fuckery on a plate of fuckery last night. There were others who made it their night's goal to summon a wave of WTF faces from the photographers. They would not let ALT be the only one. No, they would not!
Wednesday Addams snatched this shit from the rack marked "Morticia's freakum dresses" in The Addams Family costume closet many years ago and she's been waiting for the day to wear it.
Kate Hudson's dress is pretty normal, but that crap on her head looks like a rhinestone sea urchin that crawled out of Andre Leon's Talley's glitter hole and found a new home on her hair.
Ashley Olsen brings us the news that Brenda Walsh's prom dress moved to Switzerland and got a morning job as a milk maid.
Christina Hendricks... Christina Hendricks... Christina Hendricks... I'm just going to focus on the beautiful pair of sunrise chichis and then move right along before I get rust poisoning.
A slew of ICANTS go to Fuggie Fug, Freida Pinto, Kristen Stewart, Marc Jacobs, Robert Duffy and Serena Williams (who thinks she's at a HoJo's Royal Wedding party).
Lastly, I can't say one mean thing about Basement Baby's look. Beyonce accidentally left a bag of Cost Plus impulse buys in front of the basement door and Solange made a DRESS out of them. Not a dress, but a DRESS! No comment on the make-up which makes her look like a constipated lady bug.
Kunty Karl showed his new line of wispy cobweb gowns for Chanel in a cave under a volcano in Mordor today, and the best part of the show was when he slithered off of his throne of bones and braved the flashes from cameras to pose with admirers like Lily Allen, Florence Welch, Clemence Poesy, and Emma Roberts. They crawled through the tundra for miles to get a picture with the exquisite demon whose mop of bone dust threads holds the broken dreams of 12-year-old models in its tips. It's sort of like that time Perseus traveled from afar to slay Medusa. But instead of chopping Kunty Karl's head off (which is totally impossible for a mortal to do, by the way), they just want to pose with him like he's the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus or the old timey hos at Knott's Berry Farm.
Seriously, some say that designing $1,200 t-shirts out of caterpillar skins is Kunty Karl's specialty, but I say it's posing with random people. Ghoulfriend is good at that shit! Karl really needs his own mall tour. I'd wait in line with the other screaming brats and babies to get a picture on Kunty Karl's lap. I wouldn't even mind if Karl stuck his nose in my ear to see if my brain is the type of consistency he likes to nibble on.
Down in Anna Wintour's dungeon this morning, her and Andre Leon Talley are wrapping up a Tim Gunn voodoo doll in poly-blend rayon (to Anna that's the equivalent of burning him alive) while interns dance around them while holding burning JcPenney catalogs, because Tim is spitting up all their secrets in his new book.
Page Six reports that in Tim's newest book "Gunn's Golden Rules", he writes all about Anna Wintour and Andre Leon Talley's ridiculous ways. First up is his encounter with Anna Wintour at a fashion show back in 2006:
"I was with a colleague from Parsons, and we had been discussing the will-she-or-won't-she-take-the-elevator question, so we ran over to the elevator bay to see if Anna would deign to get on. She wasn't there. Then we looked over the stairway railing. And what did we see but Anna being carried down the stairs. The bodyguards had made a fireman's lock and were racing her from landing to landing. She was sitting on their crossed arms.
I ran to the window to see if they would put her down on the sidewalk or carry her to the car like that. They carried her to the car. And I thought: I will never for get this."
The top of Tim's head looks like Anderson Cooper's silvery field of nutsack hair, so he would never tell a lie, but something about this story doesn't make sense to me. There's no way Anna Wintour would let a pair of peon hands touch her. Even if the pair of hands were wearing gloves made out of leathery skin from Donatella Versace's inner thighs.
Anna was probably being carried on a throne made of the bones of her past interns while 12-year-old models threw silk Hermes scarves around her. Either that or Andre Leon Talley just stuffed her between his ass cheeks before he walked down the stairs since she weighs about as much as one of Tori Spelling's kidney stones.
And speaking of ALT, here's Tim's little queef on the Priestess of the Pucker:
"When we return to the green room, we see that someone has spread a translucent barber's bib over Andre and he's reclining, his arms at his sides. He's being fed grapes and cubes of cheese one by one, like a bird in a nest."
And the problem with this is....? ALT's wrists are much too fragile and precious to handle chocolate covered Double Downs and bacon-wrapped balls of fried mink (you know it wasn't grapes and cubes of cheese).
That being said, Tim Gunn needs to give us more of this. I would rather him whisper it into my ear as I run my fingers through his platinum follicles, but reading it in a book works for me too.