April 25, 2017 | celebrity | Lex Jurgen | 0 Comments
Talk about stress. When you’re selling one of your homes and they’re simply not moving. Look what it did to the El Moussa’s. They started fucking Gary the Contractor.
Demi Moore’s grandiose triplex she took away from her long ago marriage with Bruce Willis finally found a buyer. The pad that resembles a Bruce Wayne fixer upper overlooking Central Park listed for seventy-five million but with no interest. Forty-five was the must-go-now price. It got picked up presumably by the Clinton Foundation as a R&R center for friendly Saudi government officials on the 50 Shades package. The residence was known locally as the ‘floating mansion’, perhaps in reference to the weekend record setting Whip-It run by Moore in ’07.
Moore celebrated the cash-out by showing up to Jennifer Meyer’s 40th birthday party in an ill fitting dress and no bra. Meyer is Tobey Maguire’s ex-wife who all the A-list actresses in Brentwood decided should be a famous jewelry designer because she had to sleep with Tobey Maguire for a decade. Seems fair.
They fawn over her jewelry and routinely tell her she’s pretty like they are. You can swallow a lot of lies to push your janky amulets on easy customers with a combined net worth in the billions. Everybody noted how Demi Moore and Courteney Cox, also at the party, are virtually indistinguishable at this point thanks to a plastic surgery two-for. Nobody bothered to tell Moore that her dress was on backward. You never want to be so rich that people are scared to tell you something’s amiss. It’s not always good to be the Emperor.
Photo Credit: Splash News