Lana Del Rey Has Done A Lot Of Dudes In The Industry

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Lana Del Rey, the character played by Elizabeth Woolridge Grant and created with her rich daddy’s money, tells Complex that she tried to fuck her way to the top, but giving dudes in the industry a taste of her Pepsi-Cola pussy (“Eh, tastes more like a bland and flat Pepsi knock-off bought at Big Lots.” – every industry dude who’s tasted her Shasta  Cola pussy) didn’t even put her on the first step of the ladder. During her interview with Complex, the world’s first fully functional comatose patient was asked if her song “Fucked My Way Up To The Top” is a commentary on people thinking she fucked for a record deal or if she really did use her coochie to get ahead. Blahna Del Meh said that it’s commentary, but she has dropped her twat on a lot of music industry dick.

There are a few different ways to take your song “Fucked My Way Up to the Top.” Is it about people not wanting to give you credit for your success? Or is it about fucking people to get to the top?

It’s commentary, like, “I know what you think of me,” and I’m alluding to that. You know, I have slept with a lot of guys in the industry, but none of them helped me get my record deals. Which is annoying.

Help me, I’m beginning to like Lana Del Rey again. I love it when a ho, even a fictional one, admits that she tried to sex her way to success, but failed, because it was kind of impossible for the industry dudes to sign her to a record deal when they were in a deep coma after putting their mouths on a giant, human Ambien pill. But Lana is doing some grade A trolling as always, because why would she need to suck dick for record deals when she’s got her daddy’s millions? That song should’ve been called “My Daddy’s Wallet Bought My Way Up To The Top-ish.” 

Boning old, gross dudes for the possibility of a record deal is one thing (I mean, I’ve boned old, gross dudes for a lot less), but how she can explain fucking current day Axl Rose after getting a record deal? I’m guessing that the only thing she got out of that is the recurring nightmare of the Crisco and coke-infused sweat drops from his bloated ginger Wilford Brimley face splashing her in the eyes as he did her missionary-style.

QOTD: Linda Perry Calls Out Beyonce’s “Songwriting” Skills

Some pop stars will take a song they didn’t write at all and change one tiny lyric so they can get the songwriting credit, because: 1) The throbbing, pus-filled ego monster that lives inside of them tells them that the song is nothing without them and; 2) The throbbing, pus-filled greed monster that also lives inside of them wants that royalty money. Beyonce is known for pulling that trick. So during a Reddit AMA (via Vulture) to promote her new Vh1 show Make or Break, songwriter and 4 Non-Blonder Linda Perry was asked what she thinks about hos pulling that shit. As the BumbleBeys of the Beehive prepared their stingers for attack, she spit this out.

Linda, how do you feel about Beyonce changing one word on a song and getting writing credit. Does that bother you as a songwriter?

well hahaha um thats not songwriting but some of these artists believe if it wasnt for them your song would never get out there so they take a cut just because they are who they are. but everyone knows the real truth even Beyonce. She is talented but in a completely different way

That statement is dripping with pure, potent, sickening jealousy! The chola Erykah Badu is obviously just jealous of Beyonce’s impeccable writing skills, because she wishes she wrote the classic Christmas song Silent Night,  the haunting Ave Maria and the disco masterpiece Emotion like Beyonce did! How dare Linda Perry come for little, old songwriting artist Beyonce. I mean, Beyonce obviously writes her own songs. We all saw her scribble in her notebook in that insufferable propaganda piece masquerading as an HBO documentary!

QOTD: Sharon Stone’s Ass Can Be Enjoyed With A Nice Red Wine And Some Grapes

Sharon Stone is going on vacation and knows that the paps she calls are going to take close-up pictures of her 56-year-old nalgas in a bikini. Sharon told E! News that she knows the tabloids are going to draw a circle around her ass and say that it looks like something you serve with canned peaches to kids when you want them to have a healthy dessert. But Sharon says that her ass isn’t something found in a plastic tub with the name Knudsen on it. Sharon’s ass is way more refined than that, thankyouverymuch.

“I haven’t worked out in a couple of months because I just didn’t feel like it. But now I’m going on vacation and I know what they’re going to do—[the tabloids] are going to put a circle around my ass and do one of those crazy magnified pictures saying, ‘What happened to her ass? It’s a bag of cheese.’ I would just like to say it’s a fine triple crème brie! Right when they zoom in I should have a tattoo on my ass that says, ‘You wish you could get a bite of this.'”

Thank the fuck I’m not fancy and don’t eat fancy cheese, because I’d think of sticking my tongue in Sharon Stone’s ass every time I stuck my tongue in a piece of fine triple crème brie. Now if Sharon said her ass was like a jar of Tostitos queso, I’d be fucked. Eh, I’d eat it anyway.

Donald Trump Thinks Kim Kardashian’s Butt Is No Bueno

Donald Trump, the dehydrated clementine that rolled under the couch on Christmas morning 1989 and has been decomposing into a rotten dust bunny ambrosia salad ever since, was on Howard Stern’s radio show Tuesday and they started talking about butts (probably because looking at Donald Trump’s hair reminds you of the weird patch of downy fluff located right above a dude’s ass crack). Howard asked Donald if he thinks Kim Kardashian’s massive spray foam-filled ass is too big, and he replied:

“Well, absolutely! It’s record setting. In the old days, they’d say she’s got a bad body.”

In case you were wondering, the “old days” he’s referring to is the time before Satan started dealing exclusively in shameless narcoleptic-looking SoCal hookers. Then Howard asked who he’d choose if it came down to Kim Kardashian and her roasted turducken butt or Jennifer Lopez and her honey-glazed ham hocks, Donald said:

“I would pass on both.”

Obviously he’d pass on both! What’s that thing Paul Newman used to say? Why go out for rancid Grade F hamburger when you’ve got a succulent Botox-marinated Slovenian steak at home? Yeah, that’s it. But Donald Trump is only talking shit about Kim Kardashian because he’s jealous that it’s not 2004 and he’s no longer the biggest ass on television.

Speaking of asses (both anatomical and dumb) here’s Kim Kardashian picking up a couple things for herself at a children’s boutique in New York yesterday. Wait, you thought she was buying clothes for North West? “Who’s North West? Oh right, that baby I held once! Yeah, no, this is all for me; I’m shopping for my third pre-divorce honeymoon. Can you help me find this shirt in a size XXXS? Thenk yeeeeeewwww.”

Pics: Splash

QOTD: Lana Del Rey Wishes She Was Dead

This is the picture Ambien pills look at when they have trouble falling asleep. Damn, even those roses look sleepy. Can flowers look sleepy? Either way, don’t put those roses behind the wheel of a car any time soon.

Perpetually bored-looking singer and instant narcolepsy trigger Lana Del Rey has found something that bores her even more than talking about feminism: life. After talking about two of her heroes, Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse, the heavily-sedated singing alter-ego of a brown-throated sloth melodramatically told The Guardian:

“I wish I was dead already.”

Interviewer Tim Jonze then pointed out to 27-year-old Lana that both Kurt and Amy flew up to Heaven (on a flannel shirt and filthy ballet flats, respectively) when they were 27 and asked if she sees early death as “glamorous”, to which Lana replied:

“I don’t know. Ummm, yeah.”

Tim Jonze, who at this point in time is probably wondering if it’s too late to fake food poisoning and get the fuck out of there, assures Lana that she probably doesn’t actually want to hitchhike up to Jesus any time soon, but the human yawn says:

“But I do. I do! I don’t want to have to keep doing this. But I am.”

Slow down, Lana Del Don Draper, I know you’ve got a new album to hustle, but I’m not sure romanticizing your own death is the way to do it. If she is serious about joining the 27 Club, then homegirl needs to get her ass to the closest person she knows who’s name starts with the letters “Dr.” and talk that shit out. Joining the 27 Club isn’t that awesome; a lot of cool stuff happens after 27. Like when you turn 30, and stop giving a shit about everything.

But in the event she’s just saying that death shit as a joke, doesn’t she realize the irony? Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse were brilliant musicians with magnetic personalities, and Lana Del Rey…has nice hair. NO! That’s terrible. Her contributions to the music industry are great and important. For example, Born to Die has redefined the way we treat insomnia. For that, she at least deserves a Nobel Prize.

QOTD: Anna Kendrick Says Nobody’s Hit On Her In Five Years

Anna Kendrick, the singer of that “Cups” song from the film Pitch Perfect you’ve heard 1,983,574 times and the only tolerable part of the Twilight series (I don’t even think those two things can be classified as compliments), told ELLE Magazine that despite being skinny, pretty, rich, famous, and talented, she swears that “honest to god” nobody has hit on her since the film Up in the Air was released, but that it doesn’t really surprise her:

“I’ve never felt like I’ve exactly traded on my looks. When I was a teenager, I was an ultralate bloomer, and my mom would say it was a blessing, because it means you never have to wonder if guys are only interested in you because you’ve got boobs.  I would have been thrilled if guys were interested in me because of my boobs! Similarly, I think I’m lucky that I’ve never had a crisis about whether the only reason I’m successful is because I’m crazy hot. It’s not something that crosses my mind.”

I know why nobody will hit on Anna Kendrick: they’re afraid that if they buy her a drink, she’ll dump it out and start clapping the glass all over the bar and singing that damn “Cups” song. Then when their ears start bleeding, she’ll call 9-1-1 and clap the “Cups” song on the container for used hypodermic needles in the ambulance, . Then when they get to the hospital, she’ll find a bedpan and clap the “Cups” song till their brain sends a message to the life support machine that says “$20 if you can unplug yourself and make it look like an accident.” 

Here’s more of Anna Kendrick in ELLE. You know that the bunny and the watermelon in the first picture are both thinking: “This hussy better not flip me over and start clapping…”