I thought I was balling on New Year’s Eve because I popped a pretty nice bottle of cava someone had left at my house over the summer while wearing my good house pants, but leave it to Zaddy Warbucks to remind us all just how poor and ugly we really are. Billionaire Playboy Jeff Bezos and his Billionaire’s Playboy Bunny Lauren Sanchez just had to go and prove that while money may buy you happiness, it can’t buy you class. You have to be born with it otherwise you run the risk of looking like Pitbull’s colorblind cousin twice removed and an anatomically confusing aftermarket Janice the Muppet. Thankfully, Jeff and Lauren have class to spare so they both just looked incredibly cool and wealthy on their New Year’s yacht excursion in St. Barts that they each posted on Instagram. Don’t believe me? Then explain why Lauren followed that post up with a post wishing The Bezos Earth Fund a “year of major choices in preventing climate change and protecting nature,” totally countering any environmental damage their excursion caused. So, you know what, you caught me. I guess you can buy class too. Environmental funds are fucking expensive!
Once the CIA finishes their investigation into the shady Russia stuff, can they please open up an investigation into the cyber attack I suffered through when someone sent me this hurtful video. This video caused pain to my eyeballs, my nostrils (because I inhaled a large cloud of bullshit fumes) and my throat (from heaving).
Rob & Chyna was renewed by E! for a second season, because Chyna hasn’t really fulfilled her oath to Pimp Mama Kris until she’s delivered a sex tape, a wedding, another spawn or two, a divorce and some kind of medical drama that can be milked for at least 10 episodes. Rob and Chyna celebrated the renewal of their shit show by Snapchatting themselves sucking each other’s faces as it rained money on them. It’s like an ultra romantic version of the kissing in the rain scene from The Notebook…
Two years ago, big-boobed model Kate Upton said that her ass deserved some attention. Sadly, it’s nearly impossible to get people to pay attention to your moderately-sized ass when you’ve got the IMAX-sized asses of the Kalabasas Butt Kweens to compete with. Kate was clearly tired of waiting for people to lose interest in that double-stuffed sideshow and start paying attention to her ass. So last night she took matters into her own hands. Kate crammed herself into a bodysuit thong and slipped into some sheer star-spangled dress, and by god, she got her ass some attention. Congratulations, Kate!
Kate Upton doesn’t turn 24 until tomorrow, but she got a head start and celebrated her birthday last night in New York with her baseball player fiancé Justin Verlander. Either Kate had a couple birthday drinks in the Uber on the way over to the bar or she’s just feeling that cool breeze on her ass, but she looks like she’s having a great time. Which is insane to me, because her ass is probably all kinds of uncomfortable. As anyone who has ever worn a bodysuit knows, there are many snaps down there. And since she’s wearing a thong bodysuit, I can only imagine the dark, cramped crevices those snaps have found themselves trapped in. It must be like The Descent down there for them.
Not to mention that all that glitter and bedazzling on her dress looks scratchy and prickly as hell. No wonder she ended up with a hole right near her hole. If that was me, the ass of my dress would be covered in holes from me trying to pick random sequins and studs out of my crack.
Here’s more of Kate and Kate’s ass arriving at her birthday party last night, as well as Nick Jonas and Bella Hadid.
Those Carter boys are such romantics, you know? First Aaron Carter tries to woo back the long-lost love of his life Hilary Duff by penning some cracked out love poems on Twitter, and now we have his older brother Nick Carter grabbing a handful of his wife’s ass and making fuck faces at the premiere of the documentary Backstreet Boys: Show ‘Em What You’re Made Of last night. If Cupid ever decides to retire, I think I know two blond angels who could take his place.
Because documentaries are the classiest type of film, Paris Hilton’s former crab wrangler decided to pull out all the stops when walking the red carpet with his wife of nine months Lauren Kitt and give her a truly classy red carpet experience. Nick grabbed her ass. Nick mouth fucked her face. Nick was a walking backsreet boner who made everyone in attendance realize that maybe Aaron isn’t the messiest Carter brother.
Meanwhile, his wife Lauren – who looks like she was assembled using old Kim Kardashian parts from 2009 – stood there with the sort of vacant look in her eyes that says “Eh, could be worse – at least I’m not getting dry humped by a dude from O-Town.”
Here’s more of the coupon book version of Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel at the premiere of Backstreet Boys: Show ‘Em What You’re Made Of last night in Los Angeles, as well as all the other Backstreet Boys:
Chelsea Handler isn’t the kind of bitch to miss out on an opportunity to show her ass (and I mean that in more ways than one), so she used that cover of Paper Magazine (or as you call it, The Cover That Your Motherfucking Not Right Ass Won’t Stop Hitting My Eyes With) as an excuse to Instagram a selfie of her nalgas. Chelsea continued to fight for her right to show her nakedness on Instagram and posted a picture of the ass that Jennifer Aniston does tequila shots off of when they’re partying in Cabo. Chelsea also let everyone know that her ass is all-natural and hasn’t been touched by a Photoshop tool or a jumbo syringe full of clear soil jelly. It truly is National Make An Ass Out Of Yourself Day.
Can you believe more than 2 ass can fit on the same screen? Guess which one’s real. Your move, instagram.
Chelsea slapped at Instagram, because when she posted a picture of her bare tits next to Putin’s bare tits, they took it down three times. Chelsea queefed up the picture of her nipples again today and asked Instagram why it’s okay for a certain fame whore to post her naked body, but it’s not okay for her to do it.
Just so I’m clear, Instagram…it’s ok to use nudity to sexualize yourself on your site, but not to make a joke? I’m just so confused.
Chelsea probably secretly wishes that Instagram will keep taking her pictures down so she can rebel against them by showing us more of her naked ass body, but I’m all for her #FREETHECRACK campaign if she gets hos whose asses I actually want to see to join the fight with her. I’m talking to you, Anderson Cooper, Prince Hot Ginge, Idris Elba, Carrot Top, ASkars and literally anybody besides Kummy Kakes and Chelsea.
I don’t know who I feel more sorry for in this picture: Tony Bennett, who looks so confused as to why he’s being escorted around by a low-budget Cher, or that security guard who is doing everything in his power not to look at Lady Gaag’s busted titty shields. Nope, never mind – the person I feel most sorry for is the one made out of embroidery thread on the cross-stitch being handed to Gaag. That poor stitched person! You’re either going to end up hanging on a wall in Gaag’s house or being turned into a janky-ass art thong. I pray 4 u, cross-stitch.
Now, I’m not sure if the jazz album Lady Gaag and Tony Bennett made together, Cheek to Cheek, has a theme, but if this picture of the two of them leaving a concert in Belgium on Monday night is any indication, I’d guess that the theme is either “A older gentleman makes the mistake of ordering a hooker from the back of a weekly newspaper he found at the bus station” or “The lady is a tramp…literally“, because Lady Gaag looks like a damn discount call girl MESS!
Okay, sure – she’s at least upgraded her wig to something that doesn’t look like it was fished from the bottom of a trash can at the mall, and yes her makeup is on point (real talk), but what even is that dress??? I don’t even think what she’s wearing can technically be called a dress; it looks more like an organza table runner ripped from Aunt Sandy’s You Can’t Spell Funeral Without F-U-N! tablescape held up with two rubber bands. No to mention the only thing worse than flashing a titty is flashing a set of flying saucer-sized nipple covers. They’re literally the same size as the stickers I used to get at the dentist for having zero cavities.
But I can’t hate on that Mom Thong (“Mom Thongs – Thongs For Moms”) she’s wearing. Everything feels just a little bit classier when a pair of Sears satin-style no-line tummy-tamers make an appearance.