Please Shit On Her Head…. Please Shit On Her Head….

I haven’t thought about the song No Pigeons in a million years and I hate Vogue for making me think about it again.

This mess of a picture of Lena Dunham wearing a pigeon fastener and a dress thing made of old weaves, black socks and mutilated ostriches is my favorite picture from her Vogue spread, because it’s one hundred percent stupid and sums up Anna Wintour’s feelings about all of this. After Anna’s slaves told her that they could not use the Photoshop lipo tool to hack off most of Lena’s body and make her a size zero, Anna rolled her eyes and stopped nibbling on an underage model bone to say, “Oh for fuck’s sake, put a bird on it then!”

It’s that time again for Vogue’s annual affirmative action issue when they put a trick on the cover who doesn’t weigh more than an ant’s dry queef and who is so skinny that they regularly ask salespeople, “Do you have anything smaller than a zero?” Little Critter’s long-lost human sister got the cover and her spread was shot by Annie Leibovitz and stars a Photoshopped pigeon, a topless Adam (but is there any other kind of Adam?) and an adorable dog friend. Vogue wore out all their copies of Photoshop on this mess. I don’t even think Lena posed for some of these pictures. It looks like they cut her head out of a picture and cut somebody’s body out of another picture and sloppily slapped them all on some random background. Since shitty Photoshopper Kim Kardashian would do the impossible (read: suck a white dick) to get on the cover of Vogue, Anna should’ve used that to get her to Photoshop these pictures, because even that dumb fuck would’ve done a better job.

And if you want to read Lena’s interview, click here, but you’ll probably shut down your computer, tell your boss you’re going home sick and head to the nearest bar after you read the words, “Lena Dunham: The New Queen of Comedy.”

Just A Whole Lot Of Yellow-Colored NOs

Part of being a hipster is that you purposefully make yourself look as busted and sloppy as possible, because fug is beautiful or something like that. That’s the only reason I can come up with for why Lena Dunham keeps doing this shit to herself. I watched the Golden Globes with my mom last night and she had a lot of opinions about all the dresses, but when Lena Dunham came up on the screen with her body shoved into a yellow satin sausage casing, my mom shut her lips and just shook her head back and forth. There were no words, there were just silent judgements.

Bitch was a disaster from that orange lipstick smeared all over her butter teeth to her dressing fitting as well as a Bieber-sized condom on Tommy Lee’s dick to her small titties looking like they were gasping for air. Maybe if she stood up straight and didn’t slouch like she was about to answer Dr. Frankenstein’s front door, her titties wouldn’t look like they needed an oxygen mask, a hug and some chamomile tea.

But then again, if she did stand up straight and move those titties into a comfortable place, she probably wouldn’t look like an overfilled piss bag and that’s probably the look she was going for. Those hipsters.

Pics: Splash, Wenn.com

Lena Dunham Doesn’t Care That Her Chubby Chichis Bother You

Apparently things got more awkward than my strange feelings for Andrew Rannells (I hate musical theatre! I’m so confused!) during a press conference with the Television Critic’s Association to promote the 3rd Season of HBO’s Girls. According to the NY Daily News, a male reporter, who I can assume would also describe boobs as feeling like a bag of sand, asked creator, executive producer, and star Lena Dunham about why she won’t stop offending his eyes with her character’s nudity:

“I don’t get the purpose of all the nudity on the show by you particularly. I feel like I’m walking into a trap where you go, ‘Nobody complains about the nudity on ‘Game of Thrones,’ but I get why they’re doing it. They are doing it to be salacious and, you know, to titillate people. And your character is often naked just at random times for no reason.”

“It’s a realistic expression of what it’s like to be alive,” Dunham said in response. “If you are not into me that’s your problem and you are going to have to kind of work that out.”

At that point, an obviously infuriated executive producer Judd Apatow jumped in to fire back at the questioner.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” he asked to the reporter. “Just ask her that whole question as you wrote it . . . and tell me how it goes tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I was spacing out because I’m in such a rage spiral about that guy’s question,” said executive producer Jenni Konner. “This idea that you would accuse a woman of showing her body too much . . . just makes me sort of sick.”

So basically the TL:DR is that he publicly admitted that he’s finding it too difficult to jerk off to the realness of Girls and everybody lost their shit. What the hell was he expecting would happen by asking that question?

Male Reporter: “I don’t like your naked body.”

Lena Dunham: “I’m so sorry that the only women on TV who get your dick hard are the plastic-titted slave-girls from Spartacus and that seeing a floppy FUPA scared the shit out of you. Next season, I’ll make sure to write in a story line where Hannah Horvath hits the gym hard and moves into a bi-curous sorority house so that every episode can end with a topless pillow fight.”

And Judd Apatow is right; things will not end well if that reporter goes home and asks his girlfriend why she’s “often naked and at random times for no reason”. Imagine if your partner came home and said: “Girl, I just called Ashley Judd, ‘cause your pants is Missing“? If I want to sit on the couch in nothing but a pair of too-small Hanes Her Ways, draped in a quilt with one tit hanging out, that’s my prerogative.

(Pic via AP)

Blerta Needs To Be An Actual Character On Girls

Tina Fey hosted the season premiere of Saturday Night Live (now with more bright shiny white people!!!) last night and the best skit of the night was their spoof of Lena Dunham’s Whiny White Girl Problems Revue, Girls. There’s been many a time when I’ve rage watched Girls and have said to my best friend (aka the bottle of Barefoot Shiraz that I keep pouring into my cup) that those whiny hos need an abuelita or some other truth teller in their lives to slap them down. Albanian blossom Blerta was that truth teller.

Having truth tellers on Girls should really become a real thing. It would make it one hundred percent watchable and I might even be able to watch it without getting plastered before, during and after (but probably not). One week, Blerta can be Hannah’s roommate, the next week my abuelita (with a bag full of chancletas) and the next week the spirit of Sophia Petrillo. Because somebody needs to tell Hannah that she looks like she shops only at Gymboree and the Oilily outlet.

What In The Hell Kind Of GD Everything Is This?

This is doing bad, bad things to my hangover. All those fugly patterns. It looks like the scrap bin at a Jo-Ann Fabric got explosive diarrhea.

At last night’s 55-hour-long act of violent torture we call the Emmys, almost everybody wore a yawn of dress that should only be worn at a Christian high school prom in the South (see: Carrie Underwears), so Lena Dunham gets points for trying to be different. But this is the wrong kind of different. This is some “trying to look as messy as possible by wearing a tablecloth from the home decor section of Burlington Coat Factory” hipster shit. That hair looks like it was cut with safety scissors by a pre-schooler with severe ADHD and it makes her look like the words “by Mercer Mayer” should be over her head. And that dress. It’s like she went to Prada, who made this shit, handed them a picture of King-Size Homer’s muumuu and said, “Give me the gown version of THIS!” It looks like a tent and I bet if you peeked in there, you’d find 4 Brooklyn squatters sharing a roach joint in there. But I do love her eye makeup, because it makes her eyes look like cicadas shedding their shells. If all else fails, make your eyes look like a scene out of Planet Earth.

Here’s Lena and her mom paying tribute to St. Angie and James Haven by kissing lips on the red carpet and also pictures of Zosia Mamet, Allison Williams and Adam Driver.

Pics: Getty, Splash, Wenn.com

Presenting One Of Time’s Most Influential People Of 2013…

Speaking of meaningless titles that magazines give, because why not?

TIME celebrated their 100 Most Influential People at a gala in NYC last night and one of those most influential showed up looking like a terracotta Siamese Cat figurine covered in oil-based lacquer. You might be wondering how exactly is Xtina one of the most influential people of the year? Well, Xtina has influenced many to not wear leggings out in public and if you’re going to wear leggings out in public, make sure to not bend over in front of a camera unless you want your ass to look like two baby warthogs butting heads under a Hefty bag. Xtina is also extremely influential, because she has influenced people to bleach the life out of their hair and throw all the make-up on their faces if they want to look like a demure oyster. And she’s also influenced me to immediately buy a red lips mic stand, because it looks like a giant string of anal beads inspired by Mick Jagger’s mouth.

See, Xtina is influenza (Freudian typo) in so many ways!

And here’s the other most influential influentials being all influential at Time’s most influential gala. Influentialness in order: Influentialtina, Lena Dunham (looking like one of Sleeping Beauty’s fairies gone wrong), Robin Thicke’s stand-in with Jessica Biel, Claire Danes with Hugh Dancy, Frank Ocean, Mia Farrow (wearing an outfit from the fashion label DontGiveAFuck) with her son, Mark Burnett with Roma “Touched By A Plastic Surgeon” Downey, Jimmy Fallon with his wife, Olivia Munn, Tracy Anderson, my mom’s boo Dr. Oz and Barbara Walters.