Anne Hathaway is trying to seem more down to Earth to stop people from wanting to punch her oversized mouth. Around the time she won the Oscar for bleating like a menstruating cat in Les Miserables, the American public turned on their precious fucking sweetheart. Her false modesty, diva behavior, and general twattiness made people treat her like a Fukushima tuna. Internet trollers even organized a posse they called Hathahaters to cast shade at the Dark Knight Rises actress on Twitter. That’s the modern day equivalent of toilet papering somebody’s house. Anne has decided enough is enough and it’s time to show the world, just like that French whore she portrayed in the movie, that she’s all heart. So, she gave away a lot of her expensive dresses to her staff of servants. Because what every middle-aged thrice village raped Guatemalan maid needs is a $3000 Versace dress to wear while they are cleaning her poo bits from under the rim of her toilets. Anne has also committed to pretending to be more humble and pleasant like the character she played in those shitty Princess Diaries movies that first fooled people into thinking she was sweet and cute. An adopted Malaysian airliner orphan can’t be far behind. Anne Hathaway 2.0 will be impossible not to love.
If you put a seashell to your ear, you can hear Anne Hathaway’s nipples bitching at you. It’s not the overly obvious type of verbal incursion, more the subtle toll taking as if those nipples were the clapper on some suicide by shaving death knell. I might be projecting. But that’s what I see when I look at Anne Hathaway dressed like a middle-aged woman on her period at the beach.
Photo Credit: INFphoto.com, Pacific Coast News, FameFlynet
Anne Hathaway staged a near drowning in Hawaii so that her husband could rescue her in front of the paparazzi and regain the masculinity he first felt when Anne grabbed him by the wrist and told him he was going to be her husband. Anne flailed her arms a full ten feet off the coastline of Hawaii when an oceanographically inexplicable rip tide threatened to take away the world’s greatest actress. She screamed out for help didn’t realize that her husband couldn’t hear her through the Bublé he had blasting on his earbuds. A nearby surfer who I guess didn’t read the Please Don’t Save Anne Hathaway memo to locals grabbed Anne and brought her back to the shore where she made her husband suck fake poison out of her foot for his failure to perform his role. Emote. Counter emote. It was very dramatic.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
Anne Hathaway and her emasculated husband have been enjoying their Hawaiian getaway. It’s a good chance for Anne to be reclusive and self-important in a place with slightly nicer beaches. Slap on the top hat and order your bitch to tote your beach bag while you give the public a peek at your small serious actress boobs to remind them you’re fucking, Fantine, the singing dying prostitute who had to sell her hair. You can marry any effeminate man you want, just like Natalie Portman did after Black Swan. After onlookers were done masturbating uncontrollably to Anne’s boyish charms, she slapped her skinny gimp for forgetting her sandals and ordered vegan poi from room service. Soon it will be back to reality for Anne. Or, exactly the same.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
Oh, the embarrassment. No, not letting everybody see you out with your foppish, electric BMW driving husband. Running into the paparazzo who’s car you left dog shit on the week before because he had the gall to make you famous and self-important and easily irritated. I hate when that happens. Anne handled the situation with tremendous aplomb, staring down at the ground questioning why God would give her so much talent but not the power to telekinetically clear a fifty-yard perimeter of privacy around her person at all times. She then wet herself slightly, whispered to her husband that he’d be getting the paddle when they got home, and ran her lines for an upcoming movie I’m quite certain I will never see. Carry on, stalwart sister. The world will eventually catch up to you.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
Anne Hathaway won’t be winning any fans after her people sent a teen girl texting type email to the organizers of the breast cancer awareness event The Pink Party with her crazy demands. It seems that the diva doesn’t want anyone to talk, look at, interview, photograph, or generally breathe on her. You know, because an event to raise money to combat one of the biggest killer of women is all about Anne and ‘respecting her space’:
Do not take photos of ask for an autograph from anne hathaway. Her team is starting to getting really concerned today. Please make sure none of you or your guests approach her. I know in the past our hosts have mingled in the party, but each person is different and We are trying to respect her space.
No bloggers!!!!! Please!!!! cannot talk to her, nothing please. (forward team please help me!) Most of our celebs are happy to talk and share why cancer research is important to them so there will be other opportunities at the event.
I will truly need all of your help!!!
If you are sitting next to her in the front row, please make sure no one goes into to lounge :)”
Around the time she won the Oscar for screeching like a weasel in a meat grinder in Les Miserables, people had begun to get sick of Anne Hathaway. Her fake ass smile and false modesty are more grating than a marathon of The Princess Diaries. I know Anne will say that her reps were overreacting on their own accord. I know her reps will say, after a few cocktails, that Anne is a horrendous, demanding bitch who threatens to fire them all the time if they don’t write such idiotic letters. In the end, the winner will be the war against breast cancer. The truth about Anne Hathaway will be a minor casualty.