The Independent Spirit Awards did what the Oscars failed to do: give respect to Matthew McConaughey's rock hard ass cutlets. At yesterday's Independent Spirit Awards in Santa Monica, the Texas T-Rex won Best Supporting Actor for popping his bulge in a Speedo and throwing his charbroiled nalgas up in the air in Magic Mike. While accepting his award Matthew, who is still looking a lollipop-headed giraffe, let every actor know that if they want to win an Independent Spirit Award next year, they have to take all them panties off:
"I had to take my pants off to win a trophy, I had to drop trou to win an award. Fuck yeah!"
Sadly, the Independent Spirit Awards didn't honor the OTHER great performance of the year: Nicole Kidman's piss hole for letting out a Botox-infused pee stream on Zac Efron's body in The Paperboy.
The reboot of Jerry Maguire called Silver Linings Playbook pretty much swept that shit last night and picked up a bunch of trophies. Here's the list of winners:
Best Feature - Silver Linings Playbook
Best First Feature - Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being A Wallflower
Best Supporting Male Performance - The Texas T-Rex, Magic Mike
Best Supporting Female Performance - Helen Hunt, The Sessions
Best International Film - Amour
Best Female Lead Performance - Jennifer Lawrence, Silver Linings Playbook
Best Male Lead Performance - John Hawkes, Battery Dying
Best Screenplay - David O. Russell, Silver Linings Playbook
Best Cinematography - Ben Richardson, Beasts of the Southern Wild
Best Director - David O. Russell, Silver Linings Playbook
Best Documentary - The Invisible War
And here's a few pictures for you to put your eyes on. In order: Texas T-Rex with Camila Alves, Bradley Cooper (and yes, I stared at his baggy camel toe for at least an hour straight), Bryan Cranston, Laura Dern, Salma Hayek with her billionaire husband, Helen Hunt, Jennifer Lawrence, the new Jodie Foster, Aubrey Plaza, DanRad, new daddy Jeremy Renner (who let everyone know that the musky scent was coming from his crotch), Zoe Saldana, Andy Samberg with Joanna Newsom, the new Annie and Kerry Washington.
If you put your hand over Ellen Page, you'd sort of know what it would look like if you got to frisk ASkars. How Ellen Page kept herself from tickling ASkars' armpits with her hat's lips is beyond me. And yes, that grown man in the bottom right is totally Stefan-ing out of his mind, because he can't believe the Swedish essence of ASkar pits is blowing his way.
The oddest pairing since Kunty Karl and Choupette went to a Stanley Cup finals game at the Staples Center in L.A. yesterday and some are saying this means that Ellen is doing a sexy single bar gymnastics routine on ASkars' peen when the lights go down. Please. It's true that if you polled the planet's population, including inanimate objects, on whether or not they'd let ASkars stick the tip in, 99% would grab the butt lube and you ask where the line for that ride begins. When ASkars struts by a rock, the rock finds a way to grow a vagina so he can fuck it. Everybody wants to hump ASkars. But not Ellen Page. I mean, my common sense gene is preventing me from picturing that. They're just two beautiful lesbians who like to watch sports together. That's all.
They also did a movie together and I hope it went so well that they work together again in a movie version of the adventures of the Jolly Green Giant and Little Sprout. Because I want to see that.
It's one of those slow ass Sundays where you just want to gaze at the bong smoke trickling out of your mouth until it turns into the profile of Bob Marley and disappears (this happens to me every time), but why don't you take a break from that shit and watch Ellen Page juggle fruits for a few seconds instead. One way of stomping out the gayelle rumors is to show off your ball handling skills. I guess.
via Just Jared