And Beyonce replies, “Sure, Jan.”
Twitter had everyone wondering if Outback Steakhouse’s dark bread stood for the DARK ARTS this weekend after people posted extremely reliable images linking the restaurant to—what else??—the occult. I mean, any of y’all ever see how many Weight Watchers points are in a Bloomin’ Onion? No wonder the creators of it would be a bunch of deranged demons!
Ever since Angelina Jolie filed for divorce from Brad Pitt a little over a week ago, there’s been no end to the stories about how shitty Brad is. Brad is a mean drunk and stoner. Brad is a cheater. Brad is a bad daddy. It felt like someone was spinning a Wheel of Defamation and releasing a story about whatever bad thing the needle landed on. According to UsWeekly, that’s pretty much it, and the person doing the spinning is Angelina Jolie.
The inventor of cement, the makers of wedge flip-flops, Sir Isaac Newton’s estate, the paparazzo who shot this, Los Angeles County and who ever built that curb should all face felony charges for their role in the crime against natural beauty that happened in Beverly Hills the other day.
While sashaying into a building in Beverly Hills, Hollywood’s very own hot pink unicorn Angelyne tripped on the curb and nearly fell on her exquisitely crafted porcelain face. God would’ve been so damn mad if something happened to his greatest creation. You can say that it’s Angelyne’s fault since she was covering her face Amanda Bynes-style. But Angelyne has to cover her gorgeous face or everyone around her will go into shock from being that close to her beauty. So Angelyne was doing humanity a favor and this is what she gets for it?!
And you know, I have a feeling this was all staged by Angelyne to make all of us think that she’s a mere mortal. Because we all know that Angelyne could’ve easily sprouted her pink angel wings and flown her face to safety.
The sole reason for why I’m moving back to Los Angeles put the taste of strawberry Pop Rocks and half-melted watermelon Jolly Ranchers in mouths of those lucky to be around her when she spread her legs and poured out the glamour for an EXCLUSIVE cover photo shoot that I’m assuming is for French Vogue (or Harper’s Bazaar Fraggle Rock, or a special edition of the Pennysaver marketed only to raver Gremlins, or for a billboard that will be seen on the highway to Heaven). Angelyne really is an expert multi-tasker and serious business woman, because when she wasn’t posting her exquisitely drawn brows off in the parking lot of a Coffee Bean, she sold autographed t-shirts from the trunk of her Corvette to her loyal fan.
The paps also managed to capture the magical and enchanting moment when Lil’ Miss Magic Hair’s grandma gave us an accidental crotch shot, and no, she’s not wearing pantyhose. Angelyne just naturally has the crotch of a pantyhose doll. Oh, and you can’t tell from these pictures, but both Courtney Stodden and Shauna Sand were off camera worshiping at the sight of the foremother of exquisite glamour.
Because when her osteoporosis causes her to slightly toot her booty out, grilles get wrecked! She should come with orange cones and a detour sign she’s so fiery hot.
Los Angeles makes me uneasy. I’m pale and kinda pudgy and every time I’ve been there, I’ve felt like a glowing orb of dough. Here in Boston, everyone’s fat and drinks a lot. It’s comforting. Also, we don’t have earthquakes. We do, however, have faulty air conditioning on the T this summer. My apologies to everyone that I have showered in my sweat in the past three months while riding to work. A visual aid: It’s like that scene in Flashdance when Jennifer Beals‘ stand-in dumps the water all over herself and twerks it wet. Because I was wearing a g-string and pasties, too.
I’d feel so much better about LA if I’d ever had the intense luck to have an Angelyne sighting. She’s like finding a crumpled $20 in a pair of clean jeans or living in Mobile, Alabama and spotting the leprechaun!
When an individual who looks like Mrs. Slocombe from Are You Being Served’s mentally ill daughter gently alights onto the LA streets wearing Jan Crouch’s pink weekend merkin on her head and every piece of make-up in her vintage Caboodles on her face, you bow down. You help her pump her gas, and you buy a t-shirt from the trunk of her signature pink corvette.
And if you’re really enterprising, you sneak yourself into that trunk when she drives away. Because you know this gem is a hoarder and she must hoard some AMAZING shit at her assuredly sparkly yet depressing condo. Wigs, cut-outs of herself, costume jewelry, inflatable furniture, all of her deceased pets taxidermied and dyed pink, and every deep, dark, and dastardly secret Hollywood ever had. Why would you not go?
Improve your day by checking our more pics of Angelyne in the gallery.
And imagine if you saw this vision live and in person…..
The lucky soul who did probably had the day’s shit covering his retinas and it all melted onto the 1-ply carpet as soon as he swung open the doors to the Kinko’s (please don’t make me call it FedEx Office) in Hollywood and gazed upon the Garbage Pail Goddess gracefully waiting for the photocopies of her glamour shots that she sells in the back of her trunk (true story). When Angelyne’s Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? meets Popples weave swung around, he stared deep into her beautiful Japanese Chin on acid face and suddenly a shot of Pixie Stix syrup hit the back of his throat. Angelyne grabbed her copies, fluffed her vintage Limited Too! jacket and disappeared into the sunlight in a cloud of cotton candy powder.
As soon as he got home, he fell back onto his bed to recover from the beauty he witnessed today and suddenly he felt something poking him in the back. He rolled over and found two Strawberry Skittles and a pink ecstasy tab waiting for him. Of course, he made a Strawberry Skittles and ecstasy sandwich, and then popped it into his mouth. He fell back onto his bed for a second time, stared at the glittery popcorn ceiling above him and allowed his insides to dance to the imaginary music in his head as all of the glittery popcorn ceiling fell around him like gay snow. That’s when he knew that if his eyes were never blessed by the vision of the Fraggle Rock Queen none of this would be happening.
What I’m getting at is that Angelyne is magic. What I’m also getting at is that Angelyne makes people temporarily high, which explains this fucking post.