If you're one of the lucky ones who missed the Oscars and want a full-on recap, just pour a glass of lukewarm tap water into a paper bowl full of instant oatmeal and watch as it slowly slowly slowly cooks, because that's about as exciting as the boring mess some of us sat through last night. Everybody kept saying that last night's show was like Werther's Original night in the rec room of a Boca retirement home since it felt like a moth ball air kiss from the Academy to the olds, but saying that is an insult to memaws and papaws. The olds didn't like that shit either. Trust. The olds thought they were getting a dancing Billy Crystal, but because he's fucked with his face so much they got a dancing mummified Kim Jong-Il instead. Most of the olds probably took off their teefs and went to bed before Best Supporting Whatever was passed out.
But besides Meryl Streep's speech, there was a bright spot among the bleakness. It came when Jean Dujardin wiped the permanent smugness off of George Clooney's face by winning Best Actor. Then Jean Dujardin kept the tingles coming by face posing for his life in the press room with Meryl Streep. Jean Dujardin is damn fucking charming. He's like a skinny Gaston from Beauty and the Beast without the doucheness. Sometimes his face looks like he's starring in a toothpaste commercial from the 50s and other times it looks like he's watching two unicorn babies slide down a complete double rainbow in the distance. Jean's face is always set to magic.
Looking at him holding onto that Oscar trophy makes me think that he probably gives the most charming handjobs ever. I bet he smiles that twinkly smile the entire time and gives you an extra twitch in your crotch when he raises his eyebrow at you. Normally, I'd think that smiling while cumming is totally creepy, but it isn't when you do it with smile master Jean Dujardin. It's impossible to not feel happy inside when you're staring at a French man whose smile makes you hear cartoon birds singing and shit.
Nothing says "Stacy Keibler, please pick up the box of your belongings at the front gate and immediately report to the halfway house for exCLOONunicated hos" like this picture of George Clooney queefing hearts from her eyes while holding hands with his new heartmate Colin Firth at the BAFTAs in London tonight. Finally, after trying out bland trick after bland trick (the robot call girl that is Sarah Larson is not included in that list), George Clooney chose a red carpet escort I can finally get behind in every fucking sense.
You know it's a perfect match when George has a sneaky "I've got the double-sided dildo if you've got a high tolerance for pain" look in his eyes and Colin Firth is trying to quietly scream HELP! with his facial expression. Luckily for him, Colin Firth managed to get away and George was stuck with his other soul(and hole)mate, Brad Pitt who left St. Angie in her crypt tonight.
And before I get to who showed up to that shit tonight to get their award (winners here and Uggie was robbed yet again), let's all throw up our hands and watch as our chonies shoot off of our crotches from the sight of this:
It's not unusual to hump your monitor when you see the original panty creamer Tom Jones. Tom looks like a stick of dynamite filled with Cheetos dust just exploded up in his face and he's still excited about it. This is the charbroiled piece George Clooney should hire as his next escort.
Anyway, here's all the tricks and hos who got glamour ready by spraying their crotches with perfume for the BAFTAs tonight: Jessica Chastain, Jean Dujardin with his wife, Gary Oldman with his wife, Octavia Spencer, Christina Hendricks and her magnificent chichis, an alien from planet Disco Ball, TILDA!!!, Viola Davis, Meryl Streep, Michelle Williams, Penelope Cruz, Brad Pitt, Colin Firth with his wife, DanRad, Clooney and the hot piece who can give me melanoma of the tongue if I lick on him.
Anna Wintour usually puts unflavored bitch (see: Blake NotSoLively) after unflavored bitch (see: Blake NotSoLively, again) on the cover of Vogue, so thankfully someone at Vogue knows what's good and blurted out Meryl Streep's name during a brainstorming meeting over bowls of baby's breath (the actual breath of babies, not the filler flower) in the cafeteria of the Death Eaters' lair. The greatest living actress in the world (next to Nicole Scherzinger from The X-Factor) finally got her first cover of Vogue at the young age of 62. Meryl is the oldest woman to ever be on the cover and inside the issue she talks about how when she turned 40, she thought Hollywood was going to put her old ass out to pasture:
Streep, now 62, tells Vogue magazine she was offered three different roles to play a witch after turning 40. She believed it meant women in her age group were "grotesque on some level," and told her husband "It's over."
I'm sure it warms Meryl's insides to see how much times have changed since she was 40. Nowdays, the witch roles don't go to 40-something actresses. No, those roles go to Charlize Theron now.
Meryl's cover should've been a picture of her as Miranda Priestley choking the bob off of Anna Wintour's head, but I'll still settle for this picture of her looking like her bladder just exploded while she was sitting on the beach.
Above is the teaser trailer for The Irony Lady, which sadly isn't about Tony Stark's Russian cleaning lady who becomes an accidental crime-fighting heroine when she falls into the Iron Man suit while cleaning the crotch of it with Windex. No, this is about Margaret Thatcher's story or some shit.
Meryl Streep could get a paper bag an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor just by acting out of it, but in this trailer she looks like she has the inner mechanical workings of a Teddy Ruxpin doll. It's very Teddy Ruxpin as Joan Crawford. That being said, she'll still get an Oscar nom and we'll all scream out about the injustices in the world when she loses to MilaKunisRooneyMaraAnneHathaway, because the Academy likes their Best Actress winners the same way a power top pig likes his man holes: young, pretty and hammy.
Fishsticks Paltrow admits that contrary to the fact that her picture is next to the word "perfect" in Webster's Dictionary, the Baccarat crystal facade that covers her is riddled with imperfections! This is like finding out that swans queef. MIND BLOWN. Instead of just straight telling you what Fishy's main flaw is, let's play a game. Below are 8 possibilities for you to choose from. GO!
a) Sometimes she sneezes in an American accent.
b) She once watched a McDonald's commercial in its entirety and didn't roll her eyes once.
c) Whenever her polenta (which she grounds herself using organic corn from her roof garden) refuses to not be lumpy, she whispers into its lumps: "Why won't you be perfect? Stop being so fat and lumpy. I fucking hate you, you cunt polenta."
d) She made the decision to marry Chris Martin.
e) When she takes a day trip to India to meditate with the Dalai Lama on a grassy knoll in the hills of McLeodganj, her stubborn British tongue makes it impossible for her to say "thank you" in Tibetan without an accent.
f) Her shit "plops" instead of "dings" when it hits the toilet water.
g) Her palate can't tell the difference between Evian and Volvic.
h) She doesn't get an allergic reaction in the form of a crotch rash when she puts on a pair of polyester panties.
If you answered, "ALL OF THEM," you're probably right, but Fishy only admitted one to USA Today in an interview. Fishy went with "c." Fishy wishes that everything she touched turned to perfection and it kills her that it doesn't. Of course. Midas is laughing his ass off at her right now.
"One of my most negative qualities is the perfectionism that I have, and I think that I unconsciously project that because it comes from self-doubt and insecurity and that's the ironic part. I'm so deeply flawed. I'm just a normal mother with the same struggles as any other mother who's trying to do everything at once and trying to be a wife and maintain a relationship. There's absolutely nothing perfect about my life, but I just try hard."
Fishy shouldn't be so hard on herself. Especially, because at last night's Shine On event (judging by her greasy ass face, she obviously thought it was a theme), she was every shade of perfect. Looking like a lubed-up uncut peen with extra droopy foreskin while posing with Meryl Streep and Kathy Ireland = PERFECTION.
Any actress coming out with a movie this year who really wants an Oscar next year needs to pop their dream bubbles and work on another goal, because Meryl Streep's already got this. The production company behind The Iron Lady, the biopic on Margaret Thatcher, released this picture of Meryl in full on Thatcher drag. The movie, directed by Phyllida Lloyd and co-starring Jim Broadbent, is shooting in London right this second.
Meryl's crazy eyes are scaring me. Those eyes are telling me to pick up my stale bread and tin cup of river water and get out of her sight! POOF BE GONE eyes. They're perfect!
via Daily Mail
Leading up to the Oscars, there's ten million award shows where hos slip into something sparkly, spray their wet parts with perfume and make sure their titties sit up real nice. And I'm just talking about the dudes. Anyway, last night the hos of Hollywood wore their prom best for the Critics Choice Awards, which honors blah blah in blah blah for blah blah.
When Bradley Cooper opened the envelope to announce the winner of Best Actress in a Film, he declared that it was a TIE! Sandy Bullock (for The Blind Side) and Meryl Streep (for Julie & Julia) both won. Sandy must have left her chola attitude in George Lopez's green room, because if she still had it with her, she would've taken a razor out of her hair and cut Meryl.
Instead, Sandy and Meryl kissed like the Simpson family on Christmas morning. Well, almost like the Simpson family. Sandy didn't use tongue. Sandy doesn't even kiss her husband with tongue before the sun sets, so it's not surprising that she didn't French on Meryl.
Here's hoping that Sandy and Meryl have started a trend. At this Sunday's Golden Globes, I'm crossing my ass lips that George Clooney and Colin Firth tie for Best Actor. And if they do, they better take those panties off and touch tongues! It's the new way. Hell, I'd even settle for Morgan Freeman and Jeff Bridges.
Below is the clip of Meryl and Sandy's G-rated lezzie lip-lock.
And here's some pictures of hos from last night's show including: Tom Ford, Julianne Moore, John Cho, Zachary Quinto, an escaped grizzly bear from the zoo, Emily Blunt, Sandy B, Kristin Chenoweth, Marion Cotillard, Purdy Zac Efron, Morgan Freeman with his ladyfreeend, Heather Graham, some virgin, Edward Gayhands, Heather Mills' voodoo doll, Mo'Nique with her piece, Carey Mulligan, Zoe Saldana and Gabourey Sidibe.
No, these are not stills from I DREAMED A DREAM: The Susan Boyle Story, it's Meryl Fucking Streep as Julia Child. Hearing Meryl do Julia's "nipple hair twisting voice" (in a good way) is worth the price of admission alone.
In Julie & Julia, Meryl plays Julia at the start of her career to her reign as the head bitch in America when it comes to French cuisine. Amy Adams co-stars as Julie, a blogger who spent 365 days trying to master all 525 of the recipes in Julia's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. That is some crackhead shit right there. Have you ever seen Julia cook on TV? Homegirl does it all. I think in one episode, she runs out into the farm and strangles a chicken with her thighs. She's no joke.
The Oscar skanks should just hand over a nomination to Meryl right now. Why bother with the flirting and dirty talk. They should all pass a nom over to international supermodel and master seat filler Phoebe Price for her work in the picture above. Chicken Cutlets is spreading those legs wide for an Oscah!