Earlier, Lainey posted the cover of Esquire with Brad Pitt on it and now here's some pictures from the inside including my favorite one of him serving up some skinnier, dirtier Kid Rock in a turtleneck madness. A MESS! Since Brad Pitt likes to take pictures, photographer Max Vadukul took pictures of him taking pictures and wearing a turtleneck, because all serious photographers wear turtlenecks.... while taking pictures.
Esquire talked with Brad Pitt after St. Angie Jolie had a double mastectomy and he doesn't really talk about that (since it was still a secret then), but he talks about how he's so happy and so happy and so happy and so happy (translation: he was stoned the entire time).
On how he meets so many people that he can never remember faces (translation: his brain's memory chip is usually fogged up with weed smoke): "So many people hate me because they think I'm disrespecting them. So I swear to God, I took one year where I just said, This year, I'm just going to cop to it and say to people, 'Okay, where did we meet?' But it just got worse. People were more offended. Every now and then, someone will give me context, and I'll say, 'Thank you for helping me.' But I piss more people off. You get this thing, like, 'You're being egotistical. You're being conceited.' But it's a mystery to me, man. I can't grasp a face and yet I come from such a design/aesthetic point of view. I am going to get it tested."
On how he barely has any friends and likes making things: “I have very few friends. I have a handful of close friends and I have my family and I haven’t known life to be any happier. I’m making things. I just haven’t known life to be any happier.”
On how he's happiest when the screeches of his child army are filling his ear holes: “I always thought that if I wanted to do a family, I wanted to do it big. I wanted there to be chaos in the house… there’s constant chatter in our house, whether it’s giggling or screaming or crying or banging. I love it. I love it. I love it. I hate it when they’re gone. I hate it. Maybe it’s nice to be in a hotel room for a day – ‘Oh, nice, I can finally read a paper.’ But then, by the next day, I miss that cacophony, all that life.”
On how he decided ten years ago to put down the bong and do something: “I’d get so far and then want to do something else. I mean, I’m two credits short of graduating college. Two credits. All I had to do was write a paper. What kind of guy is that? That guy scares me – the guy who always leaves a little on his plate. For a long time I thought I did too much damage – drug damage. I was a bit of a drifter. A guy who felt he grew up in something of a vacuum and wanted to see things, wanted to be inspired. I followed that other thing. I spent years fucking off. But then I got burnt out and felt that I was wasting my opportunity. It was a conscious change. This was about a decade ago. It was an epiphany – a decision not to squander my opportunities. It was a feeling of get up. Because otherwise, what’s the point?”
Around ten years ago, Brad Pitt was doing that Troy movie, he was still married to Jennifer Aniston, he didn't have a Maddox in his life and he was suffering while hanging his head over a bong. Brad sort of said the same thing to Parade Magazine a couple of years ago. We get it, Brad. St. Angie's wonderland of a vagine is a bottomless pit of happiness and when he dipped in there, it was like he was skipping on sunshine while hugging a bunch of kittens. Angie's coochie is like Ecstasy, basically. We get it!
And here's more pictures of Brad giving me Willie Nelson meets Kid Rock meets Fabio vibes in Esquire.
Just a few hours after St. Angie Jo's op-ed piece for The New York Times filled up everybody's Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and life feeds, Brad Pitt released his own statement to The London Evening Standard.
As Chelsea Handler's forehead vein explodes while she tries to figure out what in the fuck she's going to say about this, Brad Pitt released this statement of words. It's best if you read it in his Chanel No. 5 voice, especially the "absolutely heroic" part.
“Having witnessed this decision firsthand, I find Angie’s choice, as well as so many others like her, absolutely heroic. I thank our medical team for their care and focus. All I want for is for her to have a long and healthy life, with myself and our children. This is a happy day for our family.”
But isn't almost every day a happy day for Brad Pitt? He has millions of dollars, a cellar full of the finest good shit, locks full of grease that can double as peen lube, is always in the presence of Zahara's signature up-eye and he's usually stoned to infinity and beyond. So it's an EXTRA happy day.
And thanks to the cover of Vanity Fair's June issue, we now know what you would get if you uploaded a picture of David Spade, Keith Urban, Jeff Bridges, a packed bong and a happy Golden Retriever into one of those baby morphing websites.
VF put Shiloh's man twin on the cover, because their issue's main story is all about how it took $200 million and a whole lot of reshoots to turn World War Z into a movie. That mess of a movie finished shooting in late 2011, but when everybody sat down and watched the director's cut, they realized that they had the second coming of Ishtar on their hands and the entire ending needed to be flushed down the toilet. They brought Damon Lindelof and Drew Goddard in to rewrite the ending and they reshot the last 40 minutes of the movie. Here's a piece from writer Laura M. Holson's piece on all the fuckery that went down during production:
In her revealing report, Holson also speaks to director Marc Forster and Paramount executives Marc Evans and Adam Goodman about the many problems that plagued the set—which included re-writing and reshooting 40 minutes of the film to find a coherent ending—and, most astonishingly, how the budget ballooned to around $200 million.
While closing down the production in Malta, for instance, the wrap-up crew found a stack of purchase orders related to the cast and extras that had been casually tossed into a desk drawer and forgotten; the amount totaled in the millions of dollars. Marc Evans, president of production at Paramount, was shocked. He calls the overages an “unthinkable action” which needed to be addressed immediately. “It was literally insane. Adam [Goodman, president of the Paramount Film Group] and I believed we’d gotten out of Malta good, and I found out we weren’t. That is a nightmare.”
When it came time to watch the director’s cut, Holson reports, the room was silent. “It was, like, Wow. The ending of our movie doesn’t work,” says Evans. “I believed in that moment we needed to reshoot the movie.” After 10 minutes of polite discussion, everyone left. “We were going to have long, significant discussions to fix this,” he recalls thinking.
World War Z is supposed to come out in June (if they don't push it back again), but if you really can't wait to see Brad Pitt handle a zombie, just look at these pictures for now. And Brad Pitt looks so twinkly-eyed and happy in that picture. It's almost like they got him to light up by waving a pot cupcake at him. (That's exactly what they did.)
MTV got Brad Pitt to the MTV Movie Awards last night by leaving a trail of weed buds from his front door to the Sony Pictures Studio in Los Angeles and they got him to present the last award by giving him a giant bowl of Taco Bell meat and Funyuns stew. Brad Pitt showed up to the MTV Movie Awards looking so damn stoned that I bet if you sucked his mouth while plugging his ear holes with your fingers, you'd breathe in a huge cloud of weed smoke. Dude is a human bong.
Brad pulled his greasy locks into a ponytail and I know I'm supposed to hate it, but I don't. I can't hate it, because bitch has lunch lady hair. Lunch lady hair is the look. If you threw a hairnet over his head, he'd look like he should be throwing down a greasy slice of square pizza on your pastel green lunch tray.
Brad Pitt also has the same hairstyle as this cholo grandpa who would ride around my cousin's neighborhood on a little boy's bicycle and he'd sing oldies at the top of his lungs. Brad Pitt's cholo grandpa look would be complete if he wore a clear shower cap, a gold cross necklace and had some kind of neck tattoo.
So what I'm saying is that Brad Pitt's lunch lady/cholo grandpa hair IS the look.
And here's also some pictures of St. Angie and an emo-ized Maddox at LAX.
Surprisingly enough, all the Supreme Court Justices didn't stop the Prop 8 hearings yesterday to announce that after much consideration, they've decided to overturn Prop 8 and also make marriage legal for everyone everywhere, because when it came down to it they realized that they really, really just want to see Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie get married. But that didn't happen, so Brad and St. Angie are still the opposite of married.
St. Angie graced the Congo with her holy presence a few days ago and when she got there, she wasn't wearing the huge 5,000-carat diamond engagement ring that is so damn expensive she could probably buy the entire Congo with it. Instead, St. Angie wore a demure gold wedding band, which made some hos start screaming about how she must've gotten secret married to Brad Pitt. But no, she didn't. St. Angie left her Fortress of Solitude-sized ring at home, because wearing a diamond ring that big in the Congo is wrong for many reasons and because wearing a wedding band will get her a tabloid cover or two.
While serving up some "2008 Michael Jackson meets business woman Morticia Addams" realness, Angie strolled through LAX yesterday and a mere mortal from TMZ dared asked the human halo of infinite light if she got married. She spat out a "no." Then when he turned off the camera, she turned around, wrapped her zombie witch hands around his neck and swallowed his soul until all that was left of him was a pile of bone dust. That settles that!
Dlisted's BABIES!!! tag has been overworked lately, so let's just overwork it all the way. No 15 minute bong break for you, BABIES!!! tag.
If the tabloids aren't saying that Brad Pitt and St. Angie lied to us all by getting married when all gay people can't get married yet, they're saying that they broke up and if they're not saying that they broke up, then they're saying that they're one fetus closer to taking down the Duggars. This week, Star Magazine is going with the last one.
It's been over 4 years since a fetus has moved into the holy baby rectory in St. Angie Jo's body, and now some source (aka Maddox and Zahara cranking again) told Star (via Hollywood Life) that she has dusted off her uterus and pulled the white sheets off of the furniture, because she is knocked up again. The source says that Angie has been waiting a long time to add a 7th member to their child army, but Brad wasn't having it, because the last thing he wanted was another child yanking on his greasy mop while he's trying to have a quiet and intimate moment with his Vaporizer. But the source says that whether Brad likes it or not, another chosen one will land on earth soon. Brad is apparently telling his friends that they're having another boy:
“Angelina has been talking about having another child for years now. But Brad kept putting his foot down because of their intense schedules and chaotic lifestyle. She’s focusing on the other children right now, trying to prepare them for the new baby. Shiloh has even determined that the baby’s name must be John."
The source had me until the "John" part. Like Shiloh is really going to give up the name she gave to herself. The new kid's going to have to win that name in a rubber knife fight against Shiloh. Besides, if Angie is eating for one now and if she's having a boy, I hope he comes out Asian and I hope they do the right thing by giving him a name that ends with X (examples: Twix, FedEx, Zerofux, Anthrax, etc...). That way Pax, Maddox and the new baby X can start an Asian boy band in the far future and call it The Triple X.
Because they have more money than we'll ever have and more rug rats than we'll ever want, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, their child army and their SWAT team of twelve nannies are sunning their buns and The Leg in the Carribean according to Radar. Or, more specifically, at designer Donna Karan's crib on Turks and Caicos. Celebuzz has pics of the place, I Googled, and it's a bargain at $10K a night. BUT they do throw in complimentary flip flops for chasing down wild children by the black volcanic stone lined infity pool, so that helps. They are being joined by Brad's parents, his brother, his sister and their families. That's 22 people in all. It really DOES take a village. Look at that place. No really look now, because it's gorgeousness will be wiped out like a car bombing by the time that couch and table jumping brood is done with it.
Damn, TWELVE nannies?? Are they sure that's enough? If I've got the right place it only has eleven bedrooms, so there will probably be some bed sharing going on. Since Angie sleeps in her custom black mohogany coffin and from the look of Brad's face he doesn't sleep at all, there will only have to be a few bunk sharers or floor dwellers. (Don't EVEN look at me bitches ~ Zahara). No, you know they have all twelve nannies piled up like laundry on the smallest bed so it's all good.
In other Brad and Angie news, the marriage rumors, take 5832, are back and Gossip Cop (via OK Magazine) is saying they're REALLY for honest for seriously true tying the knot this summer and getting matching tattoos to mark the occasion since Angie has two inches of un-inked real estate left. Supposedly they can't agree on where to get them or what type of tattoo to get. Angie wants an artsy one only she can understand, and Brad is leaning towards a cartoon character. The jokes write themselves. These two need to just go ahead and jump the broom already, because this shit got old 450 announcements ago and nobody will care when they finally Hoveround their old asses up to the altar. Hell, nobody cares now.
Brad Pitt is promoting his new movie Killing Them Softly (Side note: I think I just read your mind and I think you just wished Killing Them Softly was a Fugees biopic. I do too.) and that means it's about that time for every damn reporter to ask him about weed and marrying St. Angie Jo. In every reporter's defense, it's kind of hard to NOT ask Brad Pitt about the good shit when he's sitting there looking like he just peeled himself off of a pleather couch after being knocked out in a marijuana-induced Funyuns coma for 20 hours. Dude looks like he has just enough energy to hold and operate a BIC lighter while taking a bong hit. You don't know how many times I wished that I had BIC lighters for fingers.
People says that at last night's NYC premiere of Killing Them Softly, one reporter asked Brad if he's going to become Angie Jo's third husband anytime soon and he said this:
"I am getting more pressure from my kids, and it is something I want to do within their lifetime, but I also feel like the time has come. The time is nigh. It's soon. I got a good feeling about it."
Um, bitch, that good feeling you've got is called "You HIGH!" That good feeling was a Taco Bell-produced fart bubble slowly slipping out of his ass. But you know, the "good feeling" you get about getting married soon probably feels a lot like the "good feeling" you get when a fart bubble is about to fall out of your ass to join the air.
And Brad really did say, "The time is nigh." Now we know that both Bill & Ted were based on Brad Pitt.
"Equality, absolutely, that's what defines us. It's what makes us great. If it doesn't sit well with your religion, let your God sort it out in the end, but that's us. We're equal....I do believe that we should be responsible for our own choices in talking about the drug laws, and that the drug war is an ultimate failure and that the billions and billions of dollars that we've committed to it, there's got to be a better way. I don't believe in incarceration over education — don't get me started. But there's real damage to drugs; that is not the same as with gay marriage. Since the last round [of elections], they've been linked in every article. I find that curious."
And now we know that Brad Pitt is all for me marrying Anderson Cooper in every state while wearing a smokable tuxedo made of legal weed buds. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, again, reporters should finally ask him if he knows how Benicio Del Toro and Jeff Bridges feel about him looking like their broken condom love child.
Brad Pitt is an actor, humanitarian, professional baby carrier, millionaire hobo, comedian, perfume poet, stoner, house maker, savior of New Orleans and now he's designing fancy furniture for rich hos who really want to spend $45,000 on a chair that looks like a glorified bean bag for new money.
You'd think that all of the furniture in all of Brangelina's mansions is made of a material that can easily be sprayed down with a garden hose since children slobber on everything (or am I confusing "children" with "stoner movie stars"?), but nope. Brangelina has a bunch of fancy furniture in their fancy mansions and Brad Pitt loves fancy furniture so much that he regularly doodles sketches of his own fancy furniture designs. One day, furniture maker Frank Pollaro came over to install a desk in Brad Pitt's house and magically came across a sketchbook full of his furniture designs. Frank then said, "Hey, you're Brad Pitt! People will empty out their checking accounts to buy a pile of donkey shit signed by you, so let's make furniture together!"
Brad and Frank co-designed a line of furniture that they will unveil in NYC on November 13th. Brad gave Architectural Digest a special preview and talked about working with Frank:
"We talk about design, about materials, about craftsmanship, about classicism, about modernism. He has a respect for the masters of design. [I am] bent on quality to an unhealthy degree [while he] embodies the same mad spirit of the craftsmen of yore, with their obsessive attention to detail. It just so happens Frank and I speak the same language. And we both have a predilection for far too much wine."
Together, they designed a club chair, some tables, a bed and a marble tub for two that looks like the fanciest bed pan I've ever seen. They're only making limited editions of each piece that will be signed and numbered, but they have plans to make more affordable versions. So keep checking your local Levitz!
I bet Brad sketched his furniture designs on an Etch-A-Sketch, because it's all squiggles, boxes and circles. And about that bed. Does it come complete with a maid who will carry you to that bed every night so you don't almost break your leg on it? That coffee table/bench attachment thing is just waiting to bruise some shins. Inevitable.
Sweetas covered the first Chanel No. 5 ad starring the world's #1 supplier of hair grease, Brad Pitt, and that mess of a commercial made my eyes bleed cheese. Chanel is trying it again and they barfed out their second commercial. It's still Brad Pitt standing in front of the same background you sat in front of during your second grade picture day and he's still saying the words that only make sense to Terrence Malick or community college poets who've taken way too much peyote. But this time, they added random chicks staring out of windows and walking on rivers. THE HELL is all of this? I've never EVER wanted to buy a bottle of Chanel No. 5, but I might now, because it's obvious who ever was in charge of making this wreck freebased that stankness for inspiration and I want to be that buzzed.