I’m starting to think that some celebrity gossip editor found a magic lamp at an antique store, and wished for three random Hollywood couples to spice up this month’s dating news. First there was Zooey Deschanel and a Property Brother, then the possibility of Jon Hamm and Lindsay Shookus. And now, according to The Sun, Adrien Brody is dating Harvey Weinstein’s ex-wife Georgina Chapman.
The annual Cannes amfAR Gala for AIDS research was held last night, and it’s an event that truly brings out the best attempts in fashion. This is what Nicki Minaj looked like, and I love it all. The Morticia Addams hair paired with the un-dead boudoir eleganza from Roberto Cavalli and the ten pounds of diamonds makes her look like Vampira’s money-hungry hustler sister Scampira. Watch out, rich dudes – she’ll suck the life out of you and your bank account!
The universe is a shifty bitch who gets off on playing with our emotions. One second, the universe lifts me up passed the stars by giving us Susan Sarandon dragging Woody Allen in front of a bunch of reporters. The next second, the universe drops me, and as I plummet to the ground, it kicks me in the already bruised-up culo while wearing Mexican pointy boots. That happened when one of my favorite panty cream-inducing douche lotharios, Adrien Brody, not only defended Roman Polanski, but he also defended Bill Cosby and Woody Allen. And he did it on Jenny McCarthy’s SiriusXM show. It’s a good thing that my mom isn’t like Jenny McCarthy and vaccinated me, because if she didn’t, listening to Adrien Brody defend the Unholy Trinity of Trash would’ve given me whooping cough of the ears.
Thanks to the fact that the temperature in L.A. was about as hot as a newly-released fart lingering in the Heat Miser’s chonies, everybody who went to the Emmys yesterday probably made squishy sounds when they walked because of the pools of sweat jelly that formed on their crotch areas. Well, those pools of sweat jelly were definitely washed away by a wave of crotch cream when Adrien Brody sashayed onto the carpet looking like sex double-wrapped in smarmy and dipped in Brut.
Adrien and his signature douche pucker were at the Emmys, because he was nominated for Houdini and also because kissing history-making actresses at award shows is his thing. As I said earlier, Olivia Culpo nearly fainted on the red carpet, and she claims the heat did her in. But I bet she really got the faints when Adrien Brody flipped his glorious mane as he walked on by. Adrian looked like the kind of high-priced gigolo who takes his old lady clients to the opera, fingers them in the box (that line has two meanings) and makes them smell his fingers afterward. Swooooooon.
Here’s a million pictures of some of the dudes (including Damian Lewis, Joe ManJello and David Oyelowo) at the Emmys, but who cares about any of them. The only thing your eyes need is Adrien Brody giving you “stache-free Yanni in a fun house mirror” hotness.
Last week, I posted pictures of Chuck Bass working the kind of Euro hustler ensemble that Adrien Brody would work the hell out of, and as soon as I hit the publish button, I was filled with a cheap, dirty feeling of regret (and usually I’m sooooo into feeling like that). How dare I betray the seesaw brow’d smooth one by drooling over pictures of the Great Value version of him. I will never make that mistake again and I really don’t deserve these pictures of the raven-haired Roger Klotz spreading his sexiness and beauty at the TIFF premiere of his movie Septembers of Shiraz. But I’ll take them, cherish them and save them directly to the fap folder on my desktop.
Here’s more pictures of Adrien, Adrien’s hot ponytail, his co-star Salma Hayek and the movie’s producer and Hollywood’s #1 supplier of Scottish dick cheese Gerard Butler.
Leave It To Dita Von Teese To Serve Up Flawless Retro Goth Alice In Wonderland Table Runner Realness
I don’t know if that’s actually a look, but it is now. Katy Keene’s closest living relative Dita Von Teese showed up at the amfAR Gala in Cannes today looking like a recently-divorced teacher from Ever After High who has decided to use up all her vacation days on a two week trip to Las Vegas with her best gals, Dottie and Trixie, and I love it. It’s like Alice in Wonderland meets Cry Baby meets a good push-up bra and a box of Clairol Nice n’ Easy #122. I feel like at any moment, a white rabbit is going to pop out of her cleavage and offer me a martini.
She also totally reminds me of one of the bedrooms in my aunt’s old house. My aunt had two fancy guest bedrooms, the white room and the blue room. I didn’t like staying in the white room because there were two old Raggedy Ann dolls that freaked me out, so I always picked the blue room. The blue room was opulent as hell; it was like Versailles farted on Liberace. Everything was covered in blue satin and embroidered with fancy beads and tassels and various decorative shim-shams. It was a wash-your-hands-twice-and-don’t-touch-nothing kind of room.
Basically what I’m trying to get at is that Dita Von Teese looks very classy and all, but she’s missing a decorative bolster pillow placed carefully on her boobs.
Here’s more of Dita at the amfAR Gala in Cannes, as well as a bunch of other fancy dressed famous types, like Rita Ora, Adrien Brody, the tallest of the Kalabasas Klan, and Robin Thicke. Yes, Robin Thicke is still getting invited to things.