Jay Z won’t be Kanye West’s best man at his wedding this coming May. Kanye asked Jay Z to stand at his side while he intentionally fucks up his life and marries the world’s most notorious money-crazed hooker. But Mr. Z and his wife Beyoncé refuse to appear on Keeping Up With The Kardashians because either it’s beneath them or they couldn’t agree on a price to make it not so beneath them. E! has offered to pick up the multimillion dollar bill for the expensive French wedding if they are allowed to shoot the whole thing for the network and the show. It’s just good for tampon sales. But Beyoncé isn’t having it. So, is it more important for Kanye to have his best friend stand by his side at his wedding or to be on his fiancee’s whore slobbering TV show? We all know the answer. An over-blown publicity stunt like Kim’s seventh wedding televised for the credulous morons that worship the Kardashians is too much for a mass media whore like Kanye West to pass up. That’s just street. Wait, I think backing your man is street and selling out to your skeevy booty call is not- street. I can never keep this shit straight.
There are many ways to define the word hero. But if you’re my wingman when I hit on Kendall Jenner and you can maneuver her San Francisco Bay Bombers half-sister ten paces stage right, you are the fucking wind beneath my wings. I know somewhere in this world Lamar Odom is checking this out and weeping for the fine piece of ass he left behind. Which just goes to show the extent to which crack will fuck with your mind.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
If you’re like me, you’re thinking, boy, I wish there was a way I could combine my admiration of all things Paris Hilton with my passion for the luxury lifestyle represented by the island nation of the Philippines. Well, hello Paris Beach Club, attached to a new upscale residential living complex in one of the fine burghs of the Philippines:
“We wanted to provide our Azure residents the ultimate beach resort experience. Paris, with her exposure to the world’s best beach destinations, had shared very valuable inputs to achieve this objective. She helped us choose the material and color palettes for the project, and had compiled her style inspirations into a book for us. Now, we have a truly world-class beach club for the residents of our Azure development.” — some real estate developer bullshitter.
It’s true. Nobody knows the beach resorts around the world that people with money flock to be as far away from the Philippines as possible quite like Paris Hilton. I can only imagine how rich and robust that style book was. I like blue, and I like green, and it should be shiny… this check is in American dollars, right? Some of Paris personal touches can be found in the beach lounge chairs that give you HSV2 if you’re not wearing proper undergarments and the Typhoon Paris attraction where every evening at 11:11 the wave pool cranks up the horsepower and creates a series of monster waves that devastate the property and sweep sleeping children away into the sea. Looking back on the tragedy at the Paris Beach Club, nobody will say they didn’t see it coming.
Nothing says you’re over a painful breakup like quickly marrying an online gaming ads dude you meet at Burning Man. For those not familiar, Burning Man is the annual event in the desert of Northern Nevada where young professionals and recently paroled drug and sex offenders merge naked in the middle of nowhere to discover themselves through some really crappy arts and crafts projects. Out of the entire population set of women to ever attend Burning Man, Stacey Keibler is roughly more attractive than every single one of them. Just like Coachella, and ComicCon, it’s become a thing recently for Hollywood celebrities to attend and ruin everything. But I guess she didn’t ruin it for Jared Pobre who she doinked and actually married in a secret wedding this past weekend in Mexico. She’s been posting tons of social media photos of the two of them during their quick courtship, so you know it’s true love, and not just getting back at her ex or some subconscious attempt to resuscitate feelings of self-worth and public reputation. I do hope somebody in that Spanish speaking land pointed out that her rebound husband’s last name translates to ‘poor’. Meh, by the time he takes her for whatever WWE and George Clooney girlfriend modeling money she has squirreled away, at least she’ll be emotionally ready to move on. Women don’t need money, they need to feel loved. Except for Oprah, which is why she has all the money.
Nobody really favors beating women. At least, not out loud. But if anybody knows something about assaulting women, it’s Naomi Campbell. She was born with an incredible skill for abusing female subordinates with implements of her modeling world — cell phones, pagers, personal organizers, and various items of personal hair care. She’s been arrested several times for such offenses, convicted, settled lawsuits, and even been banned from British Airways for life, which is particularly relevant when you’re British. I guess nobody was more shocked to see Naomi at the front of the U.N. march to end violence against women in New York City than her various assault victims, still feeling the twinge from their particular personal electronic device beatings. I guess this is Naomi’s way of showing she’s turned over a new leaf. Or, like the sinisterly intelligent pedophile who climbs to the tops of the Boy Scout leadership ranks, she’s just found a fertile hunting ground for new victims. Nobody expects a Galaxy S to the cranium at a U.N. Peace Rally. I know they don’t match your Hermes scarves, but if you know what’s good for you, ladies, you’d don the blue peacekeeper helmets.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI, WENN
Elisabeth Moss shows gratuitous side boob in a spread in New York magazine. Moss, who plays the highly fought-over copywriter Peggy Olsen on Mad Men, talked about her work on the show, her brief marriage to Fred Armisen, and a bunch of other small talk to pretend everyone isn’t just staring at her tit. I’d read more horrible magazines if they were able to boil down my interest in this people to just the basics. Which sports team do you root for, who are you boning, and can I please see your boobs.
(Photos Via New York Magazine)
It’s day five of her commercial feeding frenzy in Miami and you wouldn’t believe the kind of gunk that’s built up in Victoria’s Silvstedt’s vagina. It’s similar to the miscellaneous refuse of a ’80 LeSabre ashtray. Lots of Wrigley’s wrappers and lint and loose buffalo nickels. But you can’t just run that pouch through the car wash. You need some kind of industrial solvents and a centrifuge to separate the coins from the secretions that are specifically designed to adhere currency. Not surprising, they got a lab for that in Miami.
Photo Credit: Splash, Pacific Coast News
Miley Cyrus skipped her costume change and hit the stage in her underwear in Milwaukee so she wouldn’t miss her mark for the concert crowd of bellowing below average bell-curvers frothing to hear her dulcet tones.
But, I’m confused. Doesn’t the song not start until you come out to sing it? Or are you suggesting… no, can’t be. Fuck, I so wanted Miley’s music to be as real as her twelve-year old boy’s body. Help me, German ghost of Rob Pilatus.
Photo Credit: Twitter