By Lex February 10, 2014 @ 1:37 PM
I can’t show you Katy Perry singing at the Beatles tribute last night without paying $270 to dead Michael Jackson, so here’s a few pictures of her panty lines in sweats over the weekend. When Katy belted out Yesterday, we were all reminded that beneath the pop music glitz and spectacle, Katy is just a songbird with enormous jugs that vibrate when she’s trying desperately to find a key.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News
By Lex January 28, 2014 @ 5:21 PM
When I was a child I came across an elderly gypspy woman requiring assistance to cross a rural road. Many people had passed her by, but I took it upon myself to guide her gently to her destination across the way. For my pure act of kindness, the gypsy woman tapped me with the gift of limited omniscience. Mostly, I can’t see or understand any of the important shit, but when it comes to useless garbage, I’m like the all-seeing fucking eagle. I’m telling you now that Katy Perry is pregnant, so that if you happen to be the baby daddy, you’ll have time to get your affairs in order. Mostly passports and whatever loose cash you can find to escape the Thirty Mile Zone. If Mario Lopez reaches you on the phone, you will only have seven days left to live. Run, spunky, and don’t look back.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
By Lex January 21, 2014 @ 6:50 PM
While her parents were praying for the mortal destruction of gays and Jews, Katy Perry was praying for big tits. According to her heavily managed interview in GQ magazine, it’s all Katy ever wanted as a little girl:
“I lay on my back one night and looked down at my feet, and I prayed to God. I said, ‘God, will you please let me have boobs so big that I can’t see my feet when I’m lying down?’”
Once God granted her wish for big yabbos, Katy prayed to God that she could make millions of billions of dollars from them. Then she prayed for Russell Brand’s dick to fall off and for people not to notice that all her songs sounded the same. Most or all of those came true as well. Meanwhile, I’ve prayed to God for the chance to have sex with Katy for six years straight now without so much as a bare tit peek to show for it. Maybe I should start asking Satan.
Photo Credit: GQ Magazine
By Jack December 24, 2013 @ 3:51 PM
Katy Perry’s contract riders for hotel amenities are as demanding as you’d imagine. A rider is basically the blank sheet at the back end of performance contract in which the talent can demand special requests on top of the cash and basics. This is where you can insist upon a pair of granny panties filled with green M&Ms or anus bleaching toilet paper. Katy Perry has a long list of riders and these are just for the spread in her hotel suite:
SmartWater, plain Fage Greek yogurt, organic toasted almond granola, bananas, apples, tangerines, director’s chair, a full-length mirror, fresh crudites to include at least 3 of the following types of vegetables: cucumbers, peppers, carrots, snap peas, jicama, broccoli, cauliflower, sliced deli platter – turkey and Swiss cheese, dried mango slices, flaxseed tortilla chips, Stacy’s Parmesan, garlic & herb pita chips, plain hummus, garlic hummus, bowl of ranch dressing, Mad Mexican salsa verde, fresh guacamole, green and chamomile teas, Sencha Shot green tea (in a can), electric kettle, and a wardrobe steamer.
How many fucking snacks do you need? Especially since we all know you don’t fucking eat because your parents forgot to ask Jesus for thin hips for you. What the hell are you doing with an entire bowl of ranch dressing? Do you dip John Mayer’s cock in it so it doesn’t taste like Jessica Simpson? Why can’t you just enjoy your luxury suite and the several hundred thousand you get each night to lip-synch songs somebody else wrote for you. You’re a good looking monkey with tits. That would explain the hotel feed bag list.
By Jack December 10, 2013 @ 3:37 PM
Katy Perry finally revealed the true reason why she and human hard-on Russell Brand split up: he wanted to fill her with a baby. It seems that the prancing Limey really wants to be a father. Katy just wasn’t ready to have kids because there are too many insipid repetitive songs left to be sung from her heart. She also says it was a way for Brand to “control” her,
“[Brand] really wanted me to have children, and I knew I wasn’t ready — I think it was a way of control. I think it was part of, If I have a kid, then I would have to sacrifice — I’d have to be home more.”
I for one applaud her decision. Not because of some feminist reason of her owning her reproductive destiny, but because I don’t want those two to make offspring. That would be fucking horrible. It would be just a mop of hair and tits with a chalkboard scratching voice listening to Katy’s parents read a bed time story about how the Jews are ruining the world. We couldn’t allow that child to reach adulthood and I for one am getting too old to keep sneaking into homes and stealing devil babies.
By Jack November 08, 2013 @ 1:03 PM
Katy Perry’s new album Prism is being called a bio-hazard in Australia and not just because it is a steaming pile of audible dookie. It seems that copies of her CD come with little seeds that the buyer is encouraged to plant to “spread the light”. The CDs pressed in Australia have native seeds, but the imported copies have seeds not indigenous to the land down under. The problem is that if some teen girl who thinks Roar is the best song ever plants the non-native seeds, it could have catastrophic ecological effects. Dead koalas will litter the streets of the nation or continent or whatever the hell it is. The good news is that after she’s killed a few million wallabies and little joeys, Katy will hold a benefit concert for some Australian wildlife preserve where the skeletons of the marsupials that used to roam the planet can be seen by schoolchildren. People magazine will write a cover story about how Katy Perry has never been happier, again. And John Mayer will start nailing Katy’s sister. Nature will be back in balance.