Robin Thicke Threw A Douche-Sized Hissy Fit Over A Hotel Room

January 2, 2014 / Posted by:

I know we were all hoping that Robin Thicke and Blurred Lines would be left back in 2013 along with Red Lobster and Keep Calm and YOLO t-shirts, but it looks like he’s clawed his way into 2014 like the penicillin-resistant strain of gross that he is. The best we can hope for is that a sleazier asshole with an even more rape-y song (“Coming in at #1 is the Shhh, Your Name Is Not Important remix”) comes along to knock him from his throne, but by then I hope I’m dead or living in a cave in the hills somewhere.

So for now, we shrug our shoulders and accept that Robin Thick is still performing sold-out shows on the Assholes To Make Your Eyes Roll Tour (it’s like the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, but with Robin Thicke, Chris Brown, The Beibs, and Kanye West as Larry The Cable Guy). According to Page Six, a hotel in Miami clearly underestimated the size of Robin Thicke’s ego when they booked him into a normal-sized room:

The “Blurred Lines” crooner was booked to perform and host a party at the Miami hotel and checked in Monday. But we’re told Thicke was dissatisfied with his digs and demanded to be moved.

“He threatened to pull out if he didn’t get a bigger room,” a source said. “His travel agent was calling all over Miami to get him a bigger room at a different hotel.” But a rep for the SLS denied the drama, saying, “Robin has been a great guest.”

Not to defend Son of Growing Pains, but they should have known better to book him in a regular King Suite; if you want Robin to perform, he needs room to get ready. One room for Paula Patton, an adjoining room for his Beetlejuice suits, a room down the hall for groupies, one room for grimy strippers, a room with an emergency dickwash station and a doctor to administer Valtrex, and a janitor’s closet for Alan (he tags along to pick up the slut’s moms).

Here’s more of Robin arriving at LAX with Paula Patton, a woman who always has that smiling on the outside/screaming on the inside look to her. I mean, I would be too if my husband went out in public wearing those NSYNC-looking pleather jeans and that fucking Eat-Pray-Love necklace:

(Pics via Splash)

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