While Angelina Jolie may be all about that art house director life, I think she must have realized ain’t nobody want to see that gore…and she has 900 mouths to feed! Since Angie starred in Maleficent and learned just how many zeroes a Disney check can add to a bank account, it appears she’s ready for more, more, more! Coming soon: Angie as Peter Pan! Angie as Captain Hook! Angie as Minnie Mouse!
After she wraps up Maleficent 2, she’s potentially joining forces with David Oyelowo to do a movie that’s supposed to be a prequel to Alice In Wonderland. Continue reading
If you’re sick and tired of hearing the overused screams of “YASSSSS QUEEN” then do yourself a favor and skip this post because the the purple carpet at the Black Panther premiere last night was shouting it from the mountain top! Every little phrase we’ve stolen from drag culture is appropriate here. I am gagged and my wig is snatched. Yes, they all did jump from there.
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.
When last year’s award season sweetheart (after the Texas T-Rex, of course) Jared Leto won the Independent Spirit Award for Best Supporting Actor for The Dallas Buyers Club, he spent a million minutes thanking every single person who ever lived from Steve Jobs to Mozart to Kurt Cobain to the billion people on Earth to James Gandolfini’s kids to the makers of vegan butter to the inventor of the zipper to his future ex-wife Lupita Nyong’o, etc.. etc… Bitch wasn’t done. At yesterday’s Independent Spirit Awards in Santa Monica, CA, Jared Leto handed out the award for Best Supporting Actor and before J.K. Simmons’ name slipped out of his delicate lips, he mouth queefed out more people and animals he forgot to thank. And he did it whilewearing a blazer I swear Linda Dano wore on Another World at least once. As your ass can tell from the video from The Hollywood Reporter above, Jared thanked the frog he viciously murdered and Richard Simmons. Take out the frog-killing shit and switch out Poquito Mas for Del Taco and this would pretty much read like my acceptance speech if I won anything.
“That frog that I accidentally squeezed to death in second grade, thank you for teaching me how short life truly can be. Richard Simmons, my flexibility, endurance and uncanny fashion sense. All of my homies at Poquito Mas on Ventura Boulevard. And last but not least my grandmother for beating me senseless with a fly swatter, teaching me that you can’t get away with everything that you think you can. Respect your elders unless you want a can of whoop-ass.”
And a little later on last night, a wet piece of shit fell on Jared Leto’s head and he probably thought Linda Dano threw it at him for wearing her favorite blazer. But nope, it was the frog he murdered shitting on him from heaven for using its tragic death for laughs. This little speech might’ve made you roll your eyes out of their sockets, but I do appreciate him paying homage to the bedazzled dandelion Richard Simmons and NOT THE ONE abuelitas. However, I still can’t believe Jared hasn’t thanked the one person he needs to thank: Rickie Vasquez. Every speech where Jared Leto doesn’t thank Rickie Vasquez is a speech nobody needs to hear.
To see all the winners from yesterday, click here. Below are approximately ten thousand pictures of everyone who was at the Independent Spirit Awards yesterday. You might want to put on some industrial-strength goggles before getting to Oprah’s picture, because her mighty chichis will punch your eyeballs if you don’t protect them.
It’s a shitty shame that SkyMall is close to death, because they’re the ones to sell an Amy Adams scarf.
The cover of last year’s Vanity Fair Hollywood issue wasn’t sixty layers of awful as usual, so I guess this year they decided to go back to wet farting up covers that look a shitty mess. They took the actors from some of the this year’s Oscar-nominated movies and threw them all on this raggedy cover together. On it are: Amy Adams, Channing Tatum, Reese Witherspoon, Eddie Redmayne, Felicity Jones, David Oyelowo, Benedict Cumberbatch, Sienna Miller, Oscar Isaac and Miles Teller. Almost everybody on this cover looks like hell. Vanity Fair did them wrong. Amy Adams looks like she’s been suffering from the flu for two weeks, Carol Channing Tatum O’Neal looks like a smug caveman lothario who’s carrying the woman he just clubbed, Laura Jeanne Poon’s tits look like a tiny flat ass, Eddie Redmayne and B. Cums look like two creepy aliens you can’t trust and Miles Teller loos like a confused poodle who just got Dirty Sanchez’d. Behold the pullout:
They look like a bunch of high schoolers who left prom early, got drunk on Boone’s Farms in the parking lot and then piled into a booth at Denny’s to share a plate of french fries.
I hear some of you screaming, “Who did Sienna Miller’s publicist blow to get her on that cover?” Sorry home wrecker haters, but she belongs on that cover. Not only did she say one of the important lines in Foxcatcher (“I said hi, Mark”) but she acted alongside one of the most relevant and biggest stars in Hollywood today: the fake baby from American Sniper! Speaking of, this cover is trash and whatever credibility Vanity Fair had left, they flushed down the urinal as soon as they made the decision to not put the fake baby from American Sniper on the cover. That fake baby is the only star in Hollywood who really matters.
Also, here’s some pictures of Laura Jeanne Poon, Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones at yesterday’s Oscar nominee luncheon in L.A. Julianne Moore is not on VF’s cover, but I threw in pictures of her, because everybody needs to know that her stylist must be stopped.
Because my cable provider is a busted bitch who can’t get their act together and make a channel that airs nothing but Mad Men episodes re-cut to feature Don Draper topless in every scene, I spend a lot of time watching Say Yes to the Dress. I can basically predict the outcome of every dress based on hairstyle and nail choice of the bride. 10lbs of curled polyester hair? That bitch is getting a Pnina. Thick acrylic blow job nail tips? It’s going to have cut-outs around the waist and lace appliqué over the nipples (aka “something simple and elegant“).
Marion Cotillard, on the other hand, is working some dark short nails and slicked back no-fucks-given hair, which means that if she were on Say Yes to the Dress, she’s going to hate every dress that goddess Camille will pull for her before making a joke about wanting something that will look good with with her Converse sneakers. Then her grumpy mother-in-law Janet will shake her head and hiss “Marion, please, you only get one day to look like a princess.” And the fancy Dior dress Marion wore to the Critic’s Choice Awards last night is EXACTLY what she’d end up saying yes to if she was someone on SYTTD; it’s got a bodice she can wear a sports bra with and a skirt full enough that she can sit with her legs open.
Here’s more of Marion Cotillard at the Critic’s Choice Awards last night looking like a chick who is so fucking DONE trying on dresses at Kleinfelds, as well as Reese Witherspoon (who was serving up some last-minute bridesmaid at a David’s Bridal outlet realness), Jessica Chastain doing some kind of weird hair thing I would have thought was so classy when I was 12, and everyone else: