A lot has changed in the 13 years since Avatar debuted in theaters and we all learned the true meaning of CINEMA. A week prior to that historic occasion, we thought Alvin and The Chipmunks: The Squeakquel was the apex of man’s achievements in motion pictures. How wrong we were. It’s almost embarrassing how simple and easily entertained we were. Those little neutered chipmunk nubbins, mere gestures towards anatomic verisimilitude, were laughably rudimentary compared to the virile, lashing appendages of the Na’vi and we, as a culture, have been horny for tails ever since. And now, after more than a decade of looking at our pets in a way that makes us a little bit uncomfortable, the first full trailer for Avatar: The Way of Water is here to remind us of that indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim, and we masturbate to something we’ve never masturbated to before. Somehow, nut ache feels good in a place like this.
What if I told you there was a sequel to Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar on the way? I think you’d be pretty stoked, I know I would be. But what if I then told you it was directed by James Cameron and that Jamie Dornan is not in it, as far as we can tell? Perhaps your enthusiasm might begin to wane, as mine did while realizing that I was actually watching a teaser trailer for Avatar: The Way of Water, and not Barb and Star 2: Barb and Star Raid Davy Jones Locker. Variety reports that after 13 years, we finally get a glimpse of what James has been doing all this time, and apparently, he’s been trying to clear the licenses for Lisa Frank’s aquatic series of stickers to complete his vision.
According to Variety, Paul Rudd is reportedly in final negotiations to join the cast of Jason Reitman’s upcoming Ghostbusters movie. So I guess we’re not doing spoiler alerts anymore? Because announcing that Paul Rudd will be in Ghostbusters spoils a pretty huge part of the plot. The plot of which is obviously that the police are forced to crack down on a rash of fake ghost complaints from thirsty people who really want an in-home consultation with cutie Paul Rudd.
A strange thing happened in Sochi today…. The singing gayelles-for-pay Russian pop duo t.A.T.u yodeled out one of their songs from 2001 while holding hands and Vladimir Putang didn’t immediately rip off his shirt, jump out of the stands, jump onto a horse and ride down there to turn them from faux lesbians into dick-loving heterosexual women with his potent straight masculinity.
t.A.T.u. performed during the pre-show of the Olympic Opening Ceremonies in Sochi tonight, because I guess the organizers couldn’t get my personal favorite Russian pop star and golden orchid Philip Kirkorov. Philip knows he’s too good and glamorous for that shit! After those fake Russian lesbians sang while dressed like Fat Bastard’s henchwomen, the Opening Ceremonies began with a womp womp when the fifth Russian snowflake got stage fright and didn’t assume the Goatse position.
Meanwhile, a pack of stray dogs are sitting in the electrical room cackling while holding the power cord connected to that shy snowflake.
Since I live in a far off land of the past, the Opening Ceremonies aren’t going to show here until tonight, so I’ve only been able to see clips and pictures here and there. But from what I’ve seen, I’m not totally impressed. Russia could’ve saved themselves hundreds of millions of dollars if they got rid of all of the theatrics and kept it simple. They would’ve avoided all possible technical difficulties and given hos a real show if they just put a mic in the middle of the stadium and let Sigourney Weaver (as Max Connors as Ulga Yevanova) entertain the world like only she can. This is what the Sochi Olympics Opening Ceremony should’ve looked like:
Даaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! (That’s “yaaaasss” in Russian.)
In the December issue of Esquire (via The Daily Mail), George Clooney his eyeballs at that fake bitch Russell Crowe, shows no love for Leonardo DiCaprio’s Pussy Posse and draws a heart around a picture of his forever bromate Brad Pitt.
A few years ago, bloated walrus Russell Crowe figuratively threw a hotel phone at George’s head when he called Clooney a sellout for getting a quick check by filming foreign commercials. Russell also called George a Frank Sinatra wannabe. George told Esquire that Russell later tried to apologize by sending him a book of poetry (the fuck?) and pulled his dick all the way by saying he was misquoted. George was not impressed with Russell’s little fake apology and probably used the pages from that book of poetry to wipe down his just-used strap-on.
“And that’s when he really went off on me. ‘Who the fuck does this guy think he is? He’s a Frank Sinatra wannabe.’ He really went after me. The truth is that [Russell Crowe] did send me a book of poems to apologize for insulting the shit out of me, which he did. I think he said “I was misquoted” and I was like, ‘Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”‘
You know George made a W with his fingers when he said “whatever.” I always thought George was more of a Dionne, but I guess he’s more of an Ambular.
After George finished calling out Russell, he spilled some shit about Leo. George and his friends once played a basketball game against Leo and the Pussy Posse. Before the game, the Pussy Posse said they were going to “kick some ass.” George didn’t like this and let out a cackle when he and his friends won 11-0.
“And the discrepancy between their game and how they talked about their game made me think of how important it is to have someone in your life to tell you what’s what. I’m not sure if Leo has someone like that.”
Yeah, I’m sure Leo surrounds himself with ass-sucking hos who tell him that his farts smell like strawberries and cream, but so does George (see: Sarah Larson, Stacy Keibler, that other one, that other one and the other ones I am so not going to Google) I’m sure AND it was just a damn game of basketball. It’s not that serious. George acts like a stupid game of basketball is as sacred as a game of Mall Madness.
When George finished slightly dragging Leo and Russell, he blew air kisses at Brad for suffering through all the re-shoots for World War Z (WHY WON’T ANYONE THINK OF THE RICH MALE MOVIE STARS?!!!). And George said this about why he’s not on Twatter:
“Why on God’s green earth would you be in Twitter? I mean, when you see, like, Ashton Kutcher coming out and going, you know, “Everybody leave Joe Paterno alone,” or whatever he said, you just go “Fifteen minutes longer and a thought process and probably you wouldn’t have done that.”
“…IN Twitter?” George just has to tell me that my gut doesn’t look as big as usual and he’d officially be my mom. IN Twitter!
I can’t co-sign everything that spilled out of George’s mouth, but I love it when grown rich dudes talk shit about each other. Fuck the GOOP vs. Vanity Fair feud. This award season is going to be all about watching George throw bitchy mean girl looks at those skanks Leo and Russell. I can’t wait for the Golden Globes when the camera will pan to George and Russell coldly hugging in the audience as George says to Russell, “Ew, I can totally see your split ends.” And George is totally going to try to steal Lukas Haas from Leo and if Danielle Spencer wasn’t 10 years too old, he’d try to snatch her away from Russell and hire her as his award season escort.
Here’s George and others (including Lupita Nyong’o, Borat, Ralph Fiennes and Kelly Rowland’s tits) at the BAFTA LA Britannia Awards last night.