Not You Too, Smarmy Afghan Hound, Not You Too!

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.

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Take In The Smooth Sexiness Of It All: Adrien Brody At The Emmys

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.

Pics: Wenn.com

Open Post: Hosted By The Slickback Afghan Hound

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.

Pics: Wenn.com, Splash

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.

Pics: Splash

In Case You Missed It, Here’s Jamie Foxx Delivering Some Raw Emotion While Yodeling Out The National Anthem

I didn’t watch that Merriweather vs. La Pequeña fight last night, because if I want to watch two sweaty dudes hug all sweet-like and give each other blows to the face, I’ll log into Sean Cody. Besides, if there’s a fight in a ring and none of the beauties from GLOW are involved, I’m not interested. But apparently everyone watched that mess (the fight even fucked with Robert Downey Jr.’s money) and from what I read, the consensus is that the fight was about as exciting and riveting as watching two sleepy toddlers on Ritalin play with a half-broken boxing ring toy. Apparently, the best part happened before the fight when Katie Holmes’ maybe fuck buddy opened his mouth and made the bald eagle cry with his version of The Star-Spangled Banner. Shit had more ups, downs and surprises than the actual fight.

While Mary J. Blige, Beyonce and Mimi sat in the audience, Jamie and an organ player took our ears all sorts of places. Of course, some hating bitches on Twitter said that Jamie should be arrested for butchering the National Anthem and said that his runs made them want to run away. But I, for one, loved it, especially the last super messy 10 seconds.

I didn’t even watch that stupid fight and can say that Jamie Foxx’s performance was more thrilling. You didn’t know who was going to win: Jamie Foxx’s vocal cords or those high notes? And that random “hallelujah” at the end probably made a thousand haters say “hallelujah” too, because they were glad it was finally over.

And here’s some famous hos who were at last night’s Jamie Foxx Does The National Anthem Show (featuring that fight).

Well, At Least Someone Came To Play

As I said earlier, the Oscars were a boring dress parade and I’ve seen more exciting dresses at my mom’s office holiday party. Well, it looks like all the real glamour and demure sophistication was the Vanity Fair viewing and after-party. Not only was Joan Collins there with a wig hovering above her head like a glorious halo, but Crispo Ronaldo’s ex-piece Irina Shayk and the walking community theater production of RiRi’s life titled Rita Ora all wore hot outfits that let everyone know that they traded in their panties for a stick-on pussy patch.

Irina Shayk’s pantyhose dress thing is like the more modest and athletic cousin of that exquisitely classic, coochie-flashing gown that Jaimie Alexander wore in 2013. My only question besides “How many people were treated for elegance inhalation from being exposed to Irina?” is, “How did she piss?” Was there a discreet zipper involved? A snap-off thing? Or did the crotch area have a small hole where she could just stick in a Go Girl and handle it? Even if she couldn’t piss in that bodysuit gown thing and had to hold it all night, it’s worth it. Getting a bladder infection is worth bringing loads of ravishing glamour to the masses.

I bet across town at Denny’s Oscar viewing party, style icon Edy Williams raised a mug full of pink wine and soda water in the air and toasted to Irina Shayk and Rita Whora. Irina just needed more exposed nipple and a random dog, and her Edy Williams tribute would’ve been perfect.

And here’s at least 10 billion pictures from Vanity Fair’s party including pictures of Joan Collins and Monica Lewinsky (????).

Pics: Wenn.com