Katy Perry seems like she finished what she came here to do. Make a buttload of cash as Raffi with tits. The ongoing fake Twitter feud between Nicki Minaj, Taylor Swift and Perry speaks to Perry’s dispassion. She couldn’t even drum up reasonably feigned outrage. Raffi refused to take a Baby Beluga movie deal on moral grounds. You’ve sucked in anything green and on paper like an F5 hooker tornado. You could buy your parents that Jew-free world they’ve always dreamed of. Digesting your mad meals is a treasure like no other. It’s time for your ninth VH-1 retrospective. This is what real smiles feel like.
Katy Perry made the cover of Forbes magazine because she raked $135 million in earnings the past twelve months from live performances, music sales, commercial endorsements, and taking in neighbors’ laundry at seventeen cents per pound. Perry noted that many women in the past have shied away from taking the Forbes cover for rich ass celebrities because they felt it might look like flaunting or bragging, while she owns the fact that even as a woman she’s been able to get teens and troubled older women to buy her crappy music to the tune of three steel sheds filled with hundreds. As her daddy always told her, the Jews are going to take it all anyhow, might as well enjoy it while you can. Who feels like a plastic bag now, motherfuckers?
Photo Credit: Forbes
Katy Perry pissed off commie officials in China by wearing a stupid looking dress made out of sunflowers. Apparently sunflowers are the symbol of some anti-government protest group in China called the Runflowers. Yeah, screw you.
Read all about this international floral incident. (Huffington Post)
Barbara Streisand’s bitch bit a flight attendant. (TMZ)
Lais Rebeiro is wearing a whole lot of not much lingerie. (Egotastic)
Alexis Ren bikinis the fuck out of your eyeballs. (Drunken Stepfather)
Jehane Gigi Paris makes my pee pee dance. (Hollywood Tuna)
Sarah Stephens models some lingerie just for you. (Popoholic)
Boobs are great, but when they bounce…(The Chive)
Katy Perry kept her promise to her parents. Yes, the part about exposing the Jewish conspiracy to defile the world’s currencies, but also the oath to never expose her heaving tits to become famous. If the world could be filled with more women who incessantly tease for cash, what a heaven on earth this would could be. You were married to Russell Brand. You’ve done your penance.
Photo Credit: Getty
Katy Perry had to change her phone number after she posted an annoying video of her dog on Instagram. Turns out the dog’s tag had Perry’s phone number on it and her fans are dangerous creeps with control shift plus command control. Perry’s phone was flooded with calls from poor area codes so she knew something was up. Perry admits her assistant takes care of the dog so it’s weird she would want her own number on the tag. Sorry I’m in Brunai sucking the Sultan’s dick what’s the problem? Just scrape him off the radiator I’ll order another one. There’s a powerful lesson here ladies. Nobody gives a shit about your dog. When you show us the silly faces he’s making we’re just wondering how to broach locking him in the bathroom while we try and fuck you. Hence your stupid videos appease nobody and people are just mining them for a nipple slip or landmark. Fuck, marry, kill. You got them all covered.
Everything that does not involve the snap of the football at the Super Bowl is some kind of hyper inflated dreck. From the morose commercials intimating if you don’t have the right insurance your honor student will drown in a small puddle left in the bathtub to Bob Costas re-purposing his grandiose Olympics poetry for the unheralded yard marker guy or the panoramic Oaxacan front yard that is Phoenix. I get it, just a week ago this Seahawks receiver was peeking up women’s skirts at Foot Locker. That Patriot lineman was almost aborted because his seventeen year old mom didn’t know if she wanted to bring her probation officer’s baby into this world. Bring on Katy Perry and her Teletubbies show for the twelve year old girls who’ve been sitting through ninety minutes of screaming drunk grown ups waiting to see Katy in her tit-safe girdle. That’s one hour of conjugal packed into a four hour prison sentence. I wish I could quit you NFL. Same time next year then.
Photo credit: Getty Images/AKM-GSI