Why Are You Doing This To Us?
I once worked at a company a million years ago where the owner believed that the best way to run a business was to hire as many of his own blood relatives as possible. The owner had this nephew who dropped out from the University of Phoenix Online (Who in the HELL drops out of the University of Phoenix Online?!), didn't finish his courses at DeVry and only had "clerk at Kinko's" on his resume under past employment, so naturally he was made Director of Marketing of the company. Dude really tried to do a good job, but I've heard better ideas from a 4-year-old on a sugar high and "awkward" doesn't begin to describe the presentations he'd give to the entire company. Dude's presentations were as cringe-worthy as watching your piece try to get it up by furiously fapping with his own saliva while you hug a pillow hoping for it to end.
The whole "nephew of the owner of the company" thing is the first thing I thought of when watching Jaden Smith's new rap video. FOR WHY?! Jaden is only 14 years old, so he should be snorting bath salts under the bleachers like a normal high school freshmen and not rapping about dating older women who do yoga. My soul is doing the downward NO to that one. This is what happens when a latch key kid has an unlimited allowance and an iPhone contact list full of music industry executives who owe his daddy a favor. If you strapped that video to a heart monitor, the only thing you'd see on the screen is a flat line. Jaden's voice is monotone as hell. Not to mention that his facial expressions go from "a stoned Doug" to an "extra smug Dylan McKay."
First, music gets this song from Jaden Smith and then Andy Williams dies. Music, you can stay under the covers today. It's not your day. And now for a palate cleanser:
Congratulations. You don't need to do any cardio today, because I'm sure that as you scrolled down you burned calories from your eyeballs getting bigger, bigger and bigger before landing on the whorrifying image of Kim Kartrashian's hips and crotch looking like a bag of marshmallows blowing up in a microwave set to high. 911 operators in Miami were flooded with calls yesterday from terrified citizens who spotted a giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Whore terrorizing the beaches. "I think it just ate a seagull with its ass!" is probably what one citizen will scream on a 911 tape that TMZ will post any minute now I'm sure.
While shooting scenes for Kim & Kourtney Infect Miami, Kim and the slow one made the innocent children scream themselves into old age by stepping outside yesterday. It's a good thing for Kim that her insides are filled with nothing but the coagulated blood of Lucifer, silicone, enough NBA jizz to start her own dream team and bronzer, because if she had human bones, that gold belt would've cracked one of her ribs in two.
I swear, Kanye West must be the Secretary of Defense for the Illuminati, because he's slowly destroying the eyeballs of humanity by turning Kim into a fugly-dressed missile of destruction.
Believe it or not, that red paint wasn't on the Target Dog's face before Xtina crept into his personal space. That's what happens when Xtina blows a red paint-covered air kiss at your face. The Target didn't get lipstick over this, because: a) Xtina's got enough lipstick for the both of them and; b) You know what Xtina does with red lipstick and the Target Dog doesn't want any part in that.
Everyone on the red carpet at the ALMA Awards in L.A. last night all got the answer to their question "Why does it smell like wet paint, melted mannequins, the inside of a Maaco and the tears of a My Little Pony whose tail was just cut off?" when Xtina sashayed in with ALL THE MAKE-UP on her face. Who ever is in charge of covering her hair with a tarp and blue tape before her make-up artist sprays her down with orange bronzer didn't do a good job, because there's gunk all over her hairline. Or so much foundation has seeped into her face that the pores on her hairline are sweating out drops of make-up.
And I kind of want to lay my head on Xtina's ass and then get up real fast and watch it slowly rise back into place. She's got one of those Tempur-Pedic asses.
Here's Canada's reigning royal couple, Avril Lavigne and Chad Kroeger, spreading their beautiful love in Paris while looking like Cool Dad picking up his angsty 8th grade daughter from junior high school to take her to buy the Wheatus CD at f.y.e. because the year is 2001.
You know how sometimes it burns when you piss and you don't look or reach for a hand mirror, because you don't want to know the awful truth so you just keep smiling through the burns? That's sort of how I felt when somebody sent me a link to these pictures and asked: "Doesn't Avril look knocked up here?" Nope, not going to look. Avril's Emily the Strange tampon is firmly up in there and you can't tell me otherwise, because I'm not ready for the world to end. Not today.
The only good thing Wonky McValtrex has contributed to humanity is this quote she gave about Kim Fartrashian's ass: "It reminds me of cottage cheese inside of a big trash bag."
When this picture from Instagram of Kim's heffalump ass landed in my inbox, my dog jumped off the sofa, ran under the bed and it felt like a Hefty bag full of thick curdled cottage cheese punched me in both eyes. I hate Kim for making me laugh at something Parasite Hilton once said. Bitch ain't right for that.
Because Hell's furnace will be turned off unless Kim's 9th planet ass trends on Twitter at least once a day, she posted this picture to Instagram and said that she thinks those jeans make her butt look too big. Um, no. Those jeans make her butt not look like a butt. That ass looks like an 18 wheeler tire that was overstuffed with Fix-A-Flat. If you ever wanted to know what it would look like to see two hos in inflatable rubber fetish suits try to wrestle, just look at that picture again.
No wonder Kanye's last song was called "Mercy." That's what he screams when he's licking on Kim's culito lips and the iron speculum holding her ass cheeks apart breaks and her double walls of doom start closing in on his face.
Here's Kim wearing one of them many shitty outfits Kanye bought her while making her way into church with Kourtney Kardashian and Kourtney's two kids. Yes, that dark-sided whore went to church. I guess every now and again you have to see what the enemy is up to.
Somebody please dig a shallow and comfortable grave in Diana Ross' backyard, because she's going to need a soft place to roll in as soon as she sees these pictures of delusional shit stain Kim Kardashian paying homage to her in a shoot she did with Hype Williams a while ago. Kim said on her Celebuzz blog that she's channeling Diana Ross, but ho needs to stop, because: a) The only Ross this flop ass heffa can successfully channel is Rick Ross; and b) Bitch looks more like she's channeling a trans clown Real Doll that was filled with Xtina's queefs.
This deluded hag probably thinks she looks like a sleeping disco beauty, but this mess looks like fake crime scene photos straight out of an episode of CSI: Chernobyl. Those dead hooker poses go perfectly with her dead soul.
And about that make-up job...
Can we even call that a make-up job? It looks like somebody shoved a whole lot of lead-based brown paint, low-grade cocaine, Pepto-bismol and tarantulas up their ass, shook it all around and then farted in Kim's face. How dreadful.
And you know you have failed at everything when Basement Baby does it better.
If you read about the final sign of the apocalypse last night, you might've woken up this morning thinking that it was all just a terrible, terrible nightmare caused by the maple syrup butt enema (it's a new thing, check GOOP) you gave yourself before bedtime. But nope, that nightmare exists on earth. Chad Kroeger from Nickelback proposed to Avril Lavigne after only 6 months together and she said yes. The proof is this picture of Avril flashing her 14 carat diamond engagement ring in HELLNO! Canada (via Twirlit). Yes, doesn't Satan's biggest kidney stone look beautiful when it's polished and put on Avril's finger? Since Chad and Avril are Canada's new royal couple, their wedding will be televised live. When it airs, pay attention to that ring, because as soon as they say "I do" it will open up and the portal to Hell will be revealed.
It's not all tragic news, though. At least Hell's tourism board has a new picture to put on their "Welcome to the Ninth Circle" sign off the highway. And at least you'll get in shape by taking up boxing. I mean, if Everlast knows good business, they'll put that picture on all their punching bags.
Here's Avril promoting her shitty clothing line at the MAGIC Convention in Las Vegas yesterday. It's nice to see that true love hasn't changed her impeccable style.
Today's theme is turning into "songs that'll make your ear holes give birth to two terrifying bundles of bloody screams," so let's go all the way with this clip of OctoMom's first (and hopefully for the sake of EVERYTHING, last) song called "Sexy Party," which would make sense as a title if "sexy" was another word for "painful" and "party" was another word for "death."
TMZ posted a clip of Octo's latest attempt at #gettingmoneybitch and it's as terrible as it's cover and it's totally the reason for why I have anal leakage. (Yes, it's the reason for my anal leakage. I'm sticking to that. I'm sticking to other things too, but I'm mostly sticking to that right now.) The clip is short, so it won't hurt that much, but it's still the morning after pill of songs.
Auto-tune truly is the work of Lucifer, because it makes any and every fame whoring tone-deaf trick think they can throat fart out lyrics in a song. But you know, it could be worse, it could be another one of Farrah Abrawhatever's songs. And did that bitch just name drop "Octoloan"?!
I just gave birth to a trio of fuckyous for the three of you hateful bitches who sent this to me and then I gave birth to a fuckme for pressing play on this musical abortion of a song even though I knew it would be the worst thing that happened to my ears.
Since I only fill my head with television programs of the highest cultural quality (examples: Bad Girls Club Mexico and Hollywood Exes), I don't watch Teen Mom at all. So I don't know if Farrah Abraham is the one who turned her baby's bottle into a meth pipe or if she's the one who got her baby's water wings surgically shoved into her chest. I don't know, but now I do know Farrah Abraham as the tone deaf trick who's responsible for making ears barf out buckets of blood.
I know I exaggerate about everything, but I'm not exaggerating about this. It's like Farrah was taking a bath in battery acid when somebody threw a plugged-in synthesizer into the tub and recorded her electrocuted screams. If you took a scratched Crystal Castles CD, put it into a factory-defected Discman, pressed play and then tossed it into a garbage disposal, it would sound like this song. It really is like an auto-tuned massacre.
Recently, I made the biggest mistake of my life (next to listening to this) by getting Zoom whitening. If you've never gotten Zoom, don't do it. Just rinse your mouth with Clorox like a sane person. During the 12 hours after I got that teeth torture treatment, it felt like my teeth were strapped to tiny electrical chairs. Out of nowhere, I'd get these "zings" that felt a million times worse than chewing on a ball of foil. You'd hear Farrah's song if you held a stethoscope up to one of my teeth as it ZINGED out. What I'm trying to say is I'd rather get Zoom whitening on my ass lips than listen to this piece of shit song again.
I totally sold this song to you, right? Enjoy!
Dear God, it's us, humanity, and we're finally ready for that apocalypse we've been promised.
The Rosemary's Baby theme loudly played in a doctor's office recently when an ultrasound scan picked up the terrifying image of an orange fetus in a mesh shirt. The ultrasound tech dropped the probe, ran to the nearest church and dipped their eyeballs in holy water to erase a picture that was more horrific than four horsemen farting out swarms of locusts while reading a newspaper with the headline: LINDSAY LOHAN WINS OSCAR (aka the true sign of the end, to be honest).
TMZ says that noted vagina-kicker Michael Lohan is procreating with Kate Major! In possibly related news, the unemployment rate just dropped 1%, because CPS has hired thousands of new agents to work in a new office right next to Kate Major's apartment.
Somehow between jumping into trees to escape the police and drunkenly beating on Kate, Michael Lohan found the time to fertilize her lady parts with the evil seed of Lohan. TMZ's sources say that Kate is in her first trimester and the act of her getting bareback dicked by Michael Lohan was illegal in more ways than one, because she had a restraining order out against him at the time of conception. The restraining order was lifted a few weeks ago, but I have a feeling that both Michael and Kate will get hit with another restraining order filed by their unborn fetus on behalf of EVERYONE.
Why? Why? Why did this happen? Why did our government do us wrong by not secretly spiking Michael Lohan's Axe dick lube with spermicide? Those two piece of trash fame whores might as well name their kid Poor Child, because that's what everyone's going to call it. And Lindsay Lohan better pick up a few more shifts at the escort agency, because she's got a new pair of nostrils to feed.