I See You Bitch
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.
When LeAnn Rimes isn't posing in a bikini for all the paps who answered her fame whore call, she's pushing at Brandi Glanville's buttons. During an interview with Britain's Fabulous Magazine (via Radar), they asked the luck dragon of the south what Eddie Cibrian's sons call her. You could probably feel the thick awkwardness in the room as she flared her nostrils and wondered whether she should tell the truth ("they call me Auntie Falkor") or make up a lie ("they sometimes call me mom"). LeAnn went with the latter one, because she never misses an opportunity to put a crack on Brandi Glanville's Botoxed forehead.
You’ve recently become a stepmother to Jake, five, and Mason, nine. What’s that been like?
They have been very accepting. It’s taken a while to feel like it’s not just Eddie and the two boys and then me. But I do feel that’s happening, and the love that I have for them is tremendous.
What do they call you?
Lee. Sometimes they’ll blurt out: “Mom!”, but I just go with whatever they call me. As long as it’s nice and respectful, I couldn’t care less.
Do you and Eddie want to have your own kids?
Absolutely. There’s still a lot of adjustments to make. It could be five months from now or in two years.
Eddie’s ex-wife, Brandi, has been pretty vocal about her feelings for you. What’s your relationship like now?
That’s where you write “insert face reaction here”.
Eek… That doesn’t sound good.
It’s been really difficult. You have to stand up for yourself and be your own person, but at the same time you have to protect these children and their hearts. And that’s a very tough balance.
LeAnn totally left out a few words there. What she should've said is, "Sometimes they'll blurt out: YOU'RE NOT MY MOM, GO BACK TO YOUR STALL!" And when they do blurt out "mom," it's only because LeAnn gives them $20 every time they call her that and she gives them $50 if they call her that in front of their mom. The kids are saving up to buy LeAnn some pants to wear to their baseball games.
Here's LeAnn in Miami yesterday, pretending to be mad at the paps she called.
Kim Kartrashian no longer has to hold Kanye West's Balenciaga purse for him, because he doesn't have to scratch at Justin Timberlake's face and yank at that trash-talking whore's beautifully relaxed hair anymore. The beef is officially squashed. (FYI: "The beef is officially squashed" is also the code phrase that John Travolta's assistants use to let the housekeepers know his "massage appointment" in his bedroom is over and they better bring extra Bounty Paper Towels and Lysol, because it's that kind of mess.)
The most boring catfight ever started when Kanye West used one of his shows to declare that he doesn't like Jay-Z's new song with Justin Timberlake. Then Justin Timberlake used SNL to declare that "hits so sick, got rappers acting dramatic." If my overuse of the word "declare" made you picture Kanye and Justin delicately fanning themselves with lace fans while saying "I do declare" to each other over and over again, that was my intention.
The most boring catfight ever is probably over now, because on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon last night, Justin played dumb while making it clear that he sleeps in an I Love Kanye thong every single night. Jimmy brought up Justin changing a lyric to slap at Kanye and their conversation went like this:
JT: Did I change the lyrics? You know, really, everyone, keep calm.
Jimmy: Keep calm and Kanye on.
JT: For the record, I absolutely love Kanye, so there's that. Were the lyrics changed? I don't remember.
Kanye West obviously goes for the hair in a catfight and Justin did not sit in a salon chair for 3 hours and he did not suffer the pain of the relaxer burning into his scalp just so some trick ass bitch can yank out pieces of his freshly straightened hair. Justin is protecting his beauty, that's all. You gotta pick your battles and any battle involving a bitch possibly pulling your gorgeous hair out is not a battle you want to pick. I can't hate on JT for taking the high road and by the high road I mean "I Just Went To The Salon So Let's No Do This Today Boulevard."
via USA Today
Here's Nicole Kidman and Naomi Watts looking like the grown up and more plastic version of the Big Sister Little Sister dolls at Producers Guild Awards over a week ago and they look friendly-ish to me. But apparently, a source tells the NYDN that shit isn't all that friendly between Nicole and Naomi. Nicole is jealous of Naomi for getting an Oscar nomination for The Impossible. And I'm also jealous of Naomi, because if Nicole didn't Botox her pits, she could've left a sweat stream on Naomi's shoulder while that picture was taken.
The source says that 60 Minutes is doing a segment on Naomi's performance in The Impossible and they asked her main homegirl Nicole Kidman to sit down and say nice things about her for 5 minutes. Nicole, apparently, let a bitch know that she'd rather move her forehead again than help Naomi's Oscar campaign. The source said:
"She declined. Clearly she’s not inclined to help her friend because she’s jealous she’s not in this year’s Oscar’s spotlight. It was a ‘no’ right off the bat [for Nicole.] She could have made time if it was a priority."
A different source says that Nicole told the producers that she was way too busy for the interview.
This story is phonier than the answer Nicole Kidman gave when she was asked if she still uses Botox. Why would Amazon Nicole ever be jealous of Midget Naomi? Sure Naomi gets the honor of losing to Jennifer Lawrence or Jessica Chastain at the Oscars, but did Naomi ever get the chance to fake piss on Zac Efron's stomach in front of cameras? AND get paid for it? No.
Naomi gets to write "Oscar nominee" on her resume, but Nicole gets to write "Oscar WINNER" and "Zac Efron's golden shower partner." She has already won. Besides, Nicole is getting her marble face sanded, buffed and polished that day and that's way more important than sitting down with 60 Minutes.
As J. Harvey told your asses yesterday, Sofia Vergara's piece of trash fiancé Nick Loeb got kicked out of a club in Miami on New Year's Eve after her got into a mini-brawl, which ended with Sofia's chichis nearly spilling out of her party dress. I know, bitches will Instagram and tweet pictures of their belly button dandruff and combination platter from El Torito, but nobody Instagram'ed or tweeted a picture of Sofia's chichis trying to escape the rage by jumping out of her dress? We have got to tweet better.
So because the world was reminded that Nick Loeb is a first-class dick pimple, Sofia Vergara tried to do a little damage control by holding his hand all happy-like on Miami Beach yesterday afternoon. Whatever. But what I want to know is, what good qualities does Nick Loeb have, because I don't know of any. Yes, Nick Loeb is a hot dog topping entrepreneur, but he's also a chronic cheater, a mean drunk, a party ruiner and always looks like he's letting out a slow, angry fart. What's to love?
Maybe in this picture, Sofia is giving us a clue as to what Nick Loeb's one good quality is. Maybe she's trying to tell us that he's hung like a rolled lunch napkin. That's still not enough. I don't care if you poured a thick layer of Onion Crunch on top of Nick's foot long dick, I still would NOT. ("Yes, you would." - you "No comment." - me)
Even though Taylor Swift has taken down every picture of Conor Kennedy from the stalker wall in her bedroom, she still closed on a $4.8 million house near the Kennedy Compound on Cape Cod, because she never knows when she'll be in the mood to stalk his ass again. Now that Taylor "Alex Forrest" Swift has moved on to her next teenage victim, the mop-headed twink from One Direction, she's looking to set up a stalking headquarters near his house in London.
Hollywood Life says that Taylor is looking for houses in North London, the same neighborhood her current piece Harry Styles lives in. Taylor "David McCall" Swift wrote Harry's initials in her cappuccino foam last March when they dated for a quick minute, but they broke up because they were never together. A source says Taylor thinks that maybe this time their love will bloom if she moves near his ass.
“She’s been interested in buying a house in the UK for a while. But after months of not really mentioning it, Taylor’s suddenly instructed an estate [agent] to get on it ASAP! She’s even asked Harry if he’ll come and look at some places with her, since he knows the area.
Taylor says the reason things fizzled out last time was because they had no time together. I’m sure their recent contact is behind her sudden enthusiasm to buy in London. She says they’ll be able to pick up where they left off. I’m not sure how Harry will cope if Taylor does move in down the road. He always talks big with girls he likes, promising the earth, but in reality I think Harry likes being single."
Does Maggie Gyllenhaal's long-lost twin sister, Harry Styles, even know that he's dating Taylor of the Sunnybrook Mental Hospital? Have they even met? Taylor was probably watching a One Direction video one day and felt that Harry was giving her the eyes through her TV screen. Now she tells everyone that he's her boyfriend and she's going to stalk him so hard until he has no choice but to seek government assistance and enter the Taylor Swift Protection Program. Whatever, by then Taylor will have a new victim and her London house will be worth twice as much as she paid.
Bitch might be crazy, but she's also a real estate mogul genius.
Here's Taylor in Japan today.
On the right is Justin Theroux and Jennifer Aniston at The 26th American Cinematheque Award Gala Honoring Ben Stiller in Beverly Hills last night, and on the left is the legendary TV couple whose look they copy and pasted. Jennifer Aniston should feel one with Brenda Walsh, because they both had their overrated man snatched away by a whore pit viper. How can Aniston do Brenda wrong by stealing one of her signature looks? Maybe Aniston thinks that if she wears Brenda's lucky prom dress, she'll get some. Sorry, Aniston, the only way you're gonna get some from the grown-up Eddie Munster is if you buy him a $100,000 Porsche. Oh wait, you already know that.
But more importantly, why are they sweating? Rich and famous people aren't supposed to sweat. Shouldn't they always have an invisible force field of air conditioning around them? Don't they Botox each one of their pores so this doesn't happen? I bet that's fake sweat, because they want every one to think that they had fast, dirty, breath-taking sex in the backseat of the car. Actually, they probably did bone in the car (see: Aniston buys Justin Theroux a $100,000 Porsche).
For once, I'm not talking about Jessica Simpson's ass. I'm talking about that humongous as the stuffed bowels of hell bag. It's the Nicki Minaj's ass of purses. Chestica showed all of us a trick as she strutted through LAX yesterday: If you want to look skinnier, just carry the fattest bag on the planet. Hos will be too distracted from screaming "Look at that fat ass bag! What a fat ass bag!" to look you up and down and analyze your actual ass. Oh, and also wear sunglasses that are bigger than Nancy Grace's areolas.
After losing more chunk than Ashlee Simpson lost when she chopped off half of her nose, Chestica is in NYC to go on Katie Couric's talk show and show everyone what happened when Weight Watchers waves a $4 million check in her face. You're looking at one of the last moments Jessica is breathing in oxygen through her mouth and nose. Because right before she goes on Katie Couric's show, Weight Watchers will mummify her in Spanx, wrap her in a full-body girdle, cover the girdle with plastic wrap and then vacuum seal her so tight that she'll have to learn how to breathe through her ear holes. During Katie's show, a translator who is fluent in Morse code through blinks will stand next to Jessica, because she'll be sucked in so tight that she won't be able to move her mouth so she'll have to communicate by blinking.