Don’t Call Christina Hendricks A Full-Figured Woman

Christina Hendricks is the face of Specsavers (which I guess is like LensCrafters) in Australia and she was in Sydney earlier this week promoting some contest for the brand. Christina sat down for an interview with Kate Waterhouse from the Sydney Morning Herald (via Warming Glow) and awkwardly giggled in an “I’m gonna slap this little twat down with one of my chest domes” kind of way when Kate called her a full-figured woman while making the sign for “big bitch” with her hands. Kate asked Christina a question about being an inspiration to full-figured women, and the ginger goddess’ publicist stepped in to say that no questions about her weight are allowed. Kate either didn’t hear what the publicist said or decided to really burn the ginger off of Christina’s locks, because asked the question AGAIN!

SMH (which today stands for Shaking My Head) said that Christina stopped the interview and when the cameras were off, she said to Kate: “I think calling me full-figured is just rude.” SMH also said that a radio host was told to not ask Christina any questions about her magnificent chichis.

Some think that the term “full-figured” is a compliment and some think that “full-figured” is just a condescending way of calling someone a lard ass heffa. Christina obviously thinks the latter. I don’t know what to think. I’m waiting to hear Jennifer Livingston’s thoughts on this.

But seriously, Kate Waterhouse is in the wrong and it was very unprofessional of her to ask Christina questions about her body. Christina wasn’t there to talk about the heavenly mounds of cashmere fluff that make me wish I was a miniature person so I could joyfully bounce on them like I was in a Sleepy’s commercial. Christina was not there for that. Christina was there to talk about eyeglasses! So if Kate Waterhouse was a true journalist she would’ve asked Christina more relevant questions. You know, she should’ve asked Christina if Specsavers puts a special anti-streak coating on their glasses that makes it really easy for you to wipe away cum splatters without worrying about streaks. Kate should’ve also asked Christina if ever she paints a pair of red lips around her belly button, puts an extra large pair of eyeglasses over her titty balls and then makes her stomach say sexy things a sexy librarian might say. Those are relevant and smart questions. I swear, that Kate Waterhouse is no kind of serious journalist.

And No Emmys For You, Mad Men

Christina Hendricks’ husband can’t believe his life either. His face has rarely moved out of that expression ever since Christina asked him, “Do you want to just slip the ring on my left nipple since you haven’t looked at my face once!” during their wedding ceremony.

Mad Men went into the Emmys last night with 17 nominations and they walked away with nothing but a handful of drink tickets to use to drown their sorrows in the sweet nectar after losing EVERYTHING. Jon Hamm was nominated for Outstanding Actor in a Drama and he didn’t get shit. Christina Hendricks was nominated for Outstanding Supporting Actress and she also didn’t even get a tiny dingle out of the Emmy statue’s ass. The only thing Mad Men won was the title of losingest TV show of all time. Northern Exposure and The Larry Sanders show both held the record for the most Emmy losses in one year (16 each) and so Mad Men beat both of their asses.

After THAT episode, I really thought I’d see Christina Hendricks on stage, balancing a trophy on her magnificent chichis while giving an acceptance speech, but that didn’t happen. The Emmy bitches also didn’t do the right thing by giving a very special humanitarian award to Jon Hamm’s hamm loaf for enriching lives (and fuck parts) and making the world a better place. I swear, I was going to throw hate at January Jones for showing up looking like a goth alien going to a funeral, but her entire look was fitting.

And here’s a few more pictures of the Mad Men cast who all took turns crying on the shoulders of Jon Hamm’s peen (yes, it’s so big it has shoulders): Christina Hendricks with her husband, The Hamm with Jennifer Westfeldt, Elisabeth Moss, JJ, Sally Draper and that one who sings that French song.

What In The Hell Kind Of GD Dress Is This?

The Creative Emmy Awards (aka The Your Shit Isn’t Good Enough For The Emmys That Shows On TV ceremony) was held in the employees break room at the Staples Center in L.A. yesterday and Christina Hendricks landed on the red carpet looking like this. I’m guessing Christina is saving the panty creaming theatrics for the REAL Emmys next Sunday, but still, how does this happen? For some reason, this dreadful look reminds me of when my 12-year-old self used to wrap Christmas presents with bed sheets and bows made of pillow cases. I don’t know if bitch fell into the curtains or the curtains fell into her.

Where are the chichis?! Whenever Christina comes out wearing a low-cut neckline with her chichis pouring out like thick white clouds of ethereal mist rising above Mt. Olympus, some hating whores always have to say shit like, “Ugh! She always has to show her tits! We know she has tits! Why does she always have to remind us she has tits?” Shut your mouth on a training bra, bitch. We need to be reminded. Remind us, Christina! Remind us, Christina! It’s like we’ve all seen a beautiful sunset a million times and yet whenever there’s a beautiful sunset before us, we take a picture of it with our iPhone, upload that picture to Instagram and then refresh a million times waiting for our friends to say, “OMG what a beautiful sunset!“

Christina’s chichis are like a beautiful sunset. They never get old, they’re a work of natural art and they’re best viewed while eating cheeses and sipping table wine on a picnic blanket with our friends.

And speaking of shit that didn’t need to happen last night. Jeremy Davies won a Best Guest Actor in a Drama Emmy for the acting stuff he did on Justified, and he collected his trophy with this on his head:

That hair is only okay if you’re Dominic from The Real World: Los Angeles or a guinea pig who just got gang banged in a tornado.

Here’s the others who showed up to last night’s Emmys Stepchild Awards: Juna from The Comeback, Nick Offerman with Megan Mullally, Padma Lakshmi, Dot Jones, DJ Tanner, Margaret Cho, Melissa McCarthy (looking like a Mennonite bridesmaid), Brenda Strong and Neil Patrick Harris with his hags.

Everybody’s Titty Pictures Are Leaking!

And by “everybody” I mean Christina Hendricks (who is EVERYTHING) and that Olivia Munn person. You might have been wondering why every chichis-lover with internet connection in your life locked themselves in their bedrooms today and stuffed a towel at the bottom of the door so their musky fap fumes don’t get out. Now you know why. Cell phones pictures allegedly of Christina Hendricks and Olivia Munn with their titty balls out somehow made their way onto internet this holy day and I fully expect both of them to pull a Blake Lively by saying, in their best Shaggy voices, that it isn’t them.

For real, though, some of those pictures might not be them. The picture of Christina’s magnificent chichis in their nipplelicious glory could almost be anyone. It could also be a rare picture of the fluffy clouds in heaven since I’m pretty sure that’s what the landscape in heaven looks like. You can judge for yourself by grabbing your Detective La Toya kit before clicking on this NSFW link (via ONTD).

And those captions to Chris Pine on Olivia’s pictures are all kinds of hilarious. I need her to write my Craigslist ads! If Olivia wrote that shit, she should really quit everything she’s doing and write comic book porn full time. And about that “big, long dick” thing, we all need to see that receipt, in high-res and laminated form preferably.

UPDATE: TMZ is saying that a few sources close to Olivia Munn claim that the pictures without her face fully showing are not of her. Olivia has posted those other pictures on her Twitter before. So there’s nipples in the pictures, but the nipples in the pictures do not belong to Olivia Munn.

SECOND UPDATE: Christina Hendricks’ rep tells TMZ she was hacked and all those pictures are of her except the full nipple one. So just like Olivia, the nipples ain’t hers.

Merry Titsmas From Christina Hendricks

It’s been said that the gift the Three Wise Men brought to Jesus on his born day was a ginger with magnificent chichis carrying a bottle of scotch. (Yes, I know that the Bible, OR WHATEVER, technically says they brought him gold, frankincense and myrrh. But that’s just old Bible talk for ginger, chichis and scotch. I went to catechism for like 2 years so I know.) So because of that, these Johnnie Walker ads starring Christina Hendricks ARE Christmas. The only note I have is that if they really wanted to make this shit really classy, they should’ve put a glass of scotch on each one of her titty balls and asked her to clink them together.

And if you stare long enough, it sorts of looks like a naked double amputee Santa Claus mistook her dress for a chimney and dove in head first. Extra Christmas points!

In Case You Missed It, The Other Coco’s Gay Wedding!

Conan O’Brien ended his week of shows in NYC last night with a grand finale featuring the ginger giant with hair like a wave crashing in the sunlight officiating the wedding of his costume designer Scott Cronick and Scott’s parner David Gorshein. Some cynical hos have put a STUNT QUEEN crown on Conan’s head for doing this for ratings, but it looked genuine and sincere to me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t as genuine as a 10 hour-long, $15 million TV wedding shittacular between a hallow fame eater with butt meat for brains and a rock creature oaf in a tux, but it still seemed genuine to me and it’s progress! Besides, Scott and David probably wanted to get married on TV, because they wanted as many eyes as possible to see their Say Yes To The Blazer ensembles. You cannot argue with this. And I’ve never noticed, but Conan is so damn tall that he makes everybody around him look like they came from the Shire.

Okay, maybe I have one problem with this shit. I am mad at Conan for letting an opportunity sashay by him. The opportunity I’m talking about is spelled R-O-J-O-C-A-L-I-E-N-T-E! The ratings scale would’ve set fight to itself just thinking about Conan, Rojo and Cynthia Nixon on the same stage together. As soon as that ginger trifecta assembled in the name of ginge gayelle love, Daylight Savings would cancel itself, winter would stay in its frozen demon hole and it would be summer for the rest of the year.

When you’re breathing hot air into your palms to rub on your freezer burnt culo lips this winter, curse Conan’s name as you do it.