The Church of Ho Shit’s answer to Suze Orman has been found! While many women are fighting for equality, stripper turned rapper’s piece turned ho shit mogul Amber Rose is telling women that they were born with a winning Lottery ticket between their legs so they may as well use it. Amber is still promoting the new ho shit holy bible “How To Be A Bad Bitch” and in an interview with Time, she shares some of her tips on how ladies can achieve their financial goals. The
Champagne Andre Room at the Nuts On Buns (or wherever the hell she worked) strip club in Philadelphia was her Harvard Business School and it was there where she learned how to get men to throw as many sticky bills at her oiled-up nalgas as possible.
The Church of Grace Jones held another sermon with The New York Times and although it didn’t lift my soul to the heavens the way that excerpt from her memoirs did, it still did me right. While lounging in a robe with a mimosa in her hand, the forever legendary Grace Jones pimped out her memoirs “I’ll Never Write My Memoirs” during an interview with The New York Times and she continued to let the music hos of today know that she sees them copying her and is going to do something about it if she sees them out. Grace tells the Times that Kanye West copied something she did in the past and used it in a video. Grace didn’t say what video, but she did say these simple fightin’ words:
“When I see him, honestly, I’m going to get in his face.”
Okay, so now all we have to do is find a way to get Grace Jones and Kanye West into a room together and we have to make sure that there’s plenty of seats for us all. Oh, and we definitely need a popcorn machine and plastic ponchos to protect our clothes from the bits of Kanye that will fly all over the room when she destroys him with her bare hands. And I’m sure Kanye will fight back by saying that Grace Jones used that funny-looking helmet to time travel to the future where she watched his video before time-traveling back to the past where she used his ideas for one of her projects. So Kanye West didn’t copy Grace Jones, Grace Jones copied Kanye West!!!
UPDATE: Shirley said on Facebook that she wasn’t talking about Kanye West, but was talking about some non-famous “industry insider.” So Shirley decided to blast some no namer on Facebook and not name names while doing so. Shirley IS your passive-aggressive cousin.
Kanye West doesn’t know what that smashed paper bag lunch, wood and Lucite trophy is for, but he still wishes he could take a time machine back to that moment and snatch that award out of Shirley Manson’s hands so that he can give it to a true artist like Beyonce.
Last month, the Internet stood and slow clapped for Shirley Manson after she tore a new one into Kanye West (Calm down and pull your chonies back up, Riccardo Tisci, I didn’t mean that literally) for spitting out some nonsensical shit about artistry and for saying that the Best Album of the Year Grammy should’ve went to Beyonce instead of Beck. Well, I guess Kanye clapped back at Shirley in an email he sent to her privately, because she has Crisco’d up her face, put on all her rings and dragged him again on Facebook. Shirley could’ve responded to the private email with a private email, but that wouldn’t be fun and she wouldn’t get any attention from it. So she wrote this mystery trick an open letter on Facebook.
Sorry Essence, but Charlie Murphy already told us what really happens at the after-party (basketball and pancakes).
There’s a dumpster behind a Kingdom Hall somewhere that’s filled with a lifetime’s worth of fucks, shits, bitches, and assholes, because Prince has solemnly sworn that his mouth will never again whisper another sexy-sounding curse word and he’s given up swearing for good. In an interview with Essence (via People), Jehovah’s Sexiest Witness talks about how he’s sort of turning into Jehovah’s Original Recipe Witness by erasing curse words from his vocabulary:
“Did you ever hear Muhammad Ali curse? Would you curse in front of your kids? To your mother? Marsha [Ambrosius], Lianne [La Havas], Janelle [Monae] … They’re all my sisters. We shouldn’t curse at them. We need to treat all of them, and all people, like royalty.”
As someone who’s in a committed, long-term relationship with the word fuck, I don’t really understand how Prince could file divorce papers on some of the sweetest, most useful words in the English language. What is life if you can’t randomly call someone a “shit for brains”, or hissing a barely-audible “biiiiiitch” every time you get passive-aggresisve shade from a workplace troll? Then again, Prince is good with words (spelling “you” as “u”? What a time saver) so even though he’s pink slipped all the no-no words in his life, he’s probably already thought of a whole list of devastating insults to replace them. What am I saying? Prince doesn’t need words; he can shut a bitch down with his eyes.
Joan Collins is life’s greatest and wisest Sage and when she gifts the world with rhinestone-encrusted words of wisdom we should all adjust our lives according to her advice. Every night, I squeeze my skinny fat body into a bath tub full of Mr. Bubbles and sip on a Diamond Water bottle full of white zinfandel mixed with soda water, because Joan has made it perfectly clear that the three keys to staying glamorous are diamonds, bubble baths and champagne. The fourth key is to become majority shareholder in your arch rival’s company, which is why I try to win at least one game of Monopoly on my iPhone a week.
Pull out your notebooks, because Joan Collins is spitting out some priceless advice again. Joan was on Loose Women yesterday promoting her one-woman show and they asked the 81-year-old glamour goddess what are the top three most important things in her 11 year marriage with her 48-year-old fifth husband Percy Gibson and she said:
“Sex, sex, sex.”
Smear the strawberries and champagne-scented lube all over your fuck parts and get it in as much as you can, whores, because Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan has spoken! The keys to happiness are diamonds, bubble baths, champagne, corporate takeovers and SEX!
The Irish Mexican Buddha that is Louis C.K. was on Conan last night to answer some of life’s greatest mysteries including why I scream for a priest every time my iPhone battery drops into the red zone (aka gets its period) when I’m nowhere near a charger. Louis C.K. started off his Ode to No Smartphones by saying that he’s never going to buy his kids one, because he thinks they make children meaner. I don’t know about that. Smartphones weren’t everywhere when I was in school and all those kids were still piece of shit assholes. Louis C.K. then went on to say that most of us think of our smartphones as the conjoined twin we never want to part from (my iPhone is the Lori to my George), because if we stop looking at it for a second, we’ll realize that we’re all alone. Gawker transcribed Louis C.K.’s words of wisdom:
You need to build an ability to just be yourself and not be doing something. That’s what the phones are taking away, is the ability to just sit there. That’s being a person. Because underneath everything in your life there is that thing, that empty—forever empty. That knowledge that it’s all for nothing and that you’re alone. It’s down there.
And sometimes when things clear away, you’re not watching anything, you’re in your car, and you start going, ‘oh no, here it comes. That I’m alone.’ It’s starts to visit on you. Just this sadness. Life is tremendously sad, just by being in it…
That’s why we text and drive. I look around, pretty much 100 percent of the people driving are texting. And they’re killing, everybody’s murdering each other with their cars. But people are willing to risk taking a life and ruining their own because they don’t want to be alone for a second because it’s so hard.
Those are the truest of true words I’ve read today and that’s saying a lot since I started my morning by reading an e-mail with the subject “What an asshole!” and a link to a Goopy Paltrow story. It’s true. Whenever I’m at a party and nobody’s talking to me and there’s no cat in the room for me to awkwardly pet, I just pull out my iPhone and spend time with it. It has to hang out with me, because I own it and it can never leave me. But Louis C.K.’s words inspired me. For two nights this week, I won’t fall asleep while holding onto my iPhone like it’s my beating heart. Okay, two is kind of crazy. I’ll only let it for go one night this week. I want to wean off slowly. I don’t want to die!