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Oh, THERE you are Bobby Trendy!
I didn’t see you there.
Oh wait, let me restate that: I didn’t want to see you there.
Great AMAs aesthetic.
We have been dying for you to cover your shit up for years. And now, look! You look fabulous!!! And FIERCE! Never better.
Keep up the good work! Don’t stop it if it’s workin’.
Filed under: AMAs, American Music Awards, Awards Shows, Bizarre Sartorial Choices, Bobby Trendy, Cover-Up, Crazy Faces, Face, Famous-For-Nothings, Good Moves, Photo Op Victims, Red Carpet Whores, Shit On Your Face, Ugh, What Does This Person Have To Do WIth Music?
This photo just emerged from Katy Perry’s recent Willy Wonka-themed birthday bash, which displays the adorably squinty-eyed Taylor Swift and this clever gentleman:
TMZ reports that Swift’s rep had a reasonable explanation for the faux-to pas: “Taylor took pictures with about 100 people that night … she doesn’t know who this guy is and she didn’t realize what was on his shirt.”
OH. That makes sense to us. After all, it’s very difficult to notice a GIANT, RED, FUCKIN’ SWASTIKA ON THE FRONT OF SOMEONE’S GODDAMN SHIRT. Especially when you’re busy celebrating!
So this is what it looks like at the 1st Annual Totally Fucking Shameless [In the Woods] Convention:
What’s worse: having everything to be ashamed of, or nothing to be proud of?
Kinda boggles the mind, doesn’t it?
Thanks, Jasmine and jRu!
MILEY: Guys, I’m so glad you’re here tonight. It means so much to me. It’s times like these when you really need good friends around you who know your heart. I’m so glad I can count on y’all.
GUY IN THE TIE: Dude, what? You paid us $100 to be in the picture.
MILEY: Just remember–no goofy faces, okay?
GUY WITH THE GOATEE: Like what do you mean?
MILEY: I mean, keep your eyes open real wide. Don’t, like, squint or laugh too hard or look like you’re sleepy. Do your eyes like (pointing to the LADY IN THE STRIPEY DRESS)…like her.
LADY IN THE STRIPEY DRESS: What do you mean “do” your eyes like me? What am I doing with my eyes exactly?
MILEY: You’re making them really really big.
LADY IN THE STRIPEY DRESS: No I’m not.
MILEY: Are too.
LADY IN THE STRIPEY DRESS: I’m not “doing” anything to them. This is how my eyes look.
MILEY: Hunh. That’s weird. I thought all of you had small eyes. You must use really great eye makeup.
LADY IN THE STRIPEY DRESS: Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?
GUY WITH THE GOATEE: Hey, Miley, do you think you could kick in a gift bag on top of the $100 bucks you gave us to pose in this picture? I’d love to take one home to my wife.
MILEY: Uh, I don’t know. I mean, this gift bag’s mine, and it has my favorite aromatherapy scented candle in it. And they’re kinda only giving these to celebrities.
LADY IN THE STRIPEY DRESS: While you’re at it, could I get your autograph for my daughter? God knows why she still likes you after this latest flap, but she does. Idiot kid.
MILEY: Guys, what’s with all the requests all of a sudden? I thought we were friends!
GUY WITH THE GLASSES: Don’t forget that we’re doing you the favor here. If you want us to pose in a picture with you so people will stop saying you’re racist, the least you could do is pony up a coupla gift bags. And a few autographs. In fact, what you should really be doing is kissing our yellow asses in the hopes that you haven’t completely alienated the world’s biggest consumer demo.
MILEY: You guys are being so mean! I was so not making fun of any ethnicity! I don’t even know what that word means! I’m only 16, gimme a break! I don’t know right from wrong from stupid! I thought you knew my heart!
GUY IN THE TIE: Wow is this pointless. There’s no reasoning with fools, I guess. (sighing) Just take the picture.
ANGELINA: Because it’s cute, Mad.
MADDOX: It’s not cute. It’s more like–um, what’s the word I’m looking for–oh right…stupid.
ANGELINA: You don’t really believe that! (to self) Remember to smile, remember to smile, paparazzi everywhere. (back to Maddox) Why would you say that? Do you want to match Daddy, too? Is that it? You know we could run out and get you your own newsboy cap–
MADDOX: Ack! Mom! Seriously. That hat is gay.
ANGELINA: Mad, we don’t say things like “that hat is gay.” We’re a progressive, multiracial, multinational family, from all different socio-economic strata, and we are tolerant regardless of race, creed, sexual orientation. (to self) Don’t look pissed-off and hormonal. Don’t give anyone the death-glare. Look happy.
MADDOX: Yeah, yeah, we’ve been through all this.
ANGELINA: How would you like it if somebody said, “That hat’s so boat people”?
MADDOX: I wouldn’t care, because I’ve never been on a boat that wasn’t a yacht, and we have a private jet. Which reminds me, why did we have to fly commercial to Japan?
ANGELINA: Because, honey, we’re just like everyone else. No better, no worse. And sometimes we have to fly commercial to prove that. Just like sometimes we have to carry our own luggage and strap on our own children to our chests with our own Baby Bjorns. (to self) See, world? We’re just like you. Look how we hold our own children’s hands!
MADDOX: Ow, Mom! Speaking of hands, do you think you could ease up on mine a little?
ANGELINA: Sure thing, sweet-pea.
MADDOX: Why do we have, like, 8 people with us on the plane if they don’t carry our stuff for us when the paparazzi are around?
ANGELINA: Because not everyone has 8 people around them at all times to carry their stuff for them. And we don’t want people to think we’re better than them. Because we’re not. We’re a normal family who happens to be better looking than everyone else and makes tons more money, but other than that, we’re just people. (to self) Hear that, everybody? We’re just like you. We relate. Don’t hate me cuz I’m beautiful.
MADDOX: Whatever. Dad and Knox’s hats are still gay.
ANGELINA: (to self) La-di-da, isn’t life grand? I’m not mad because I’ve lost every award to that pale, babbling, criminal-dater Anne Hathaway! It’s just an honor to be nominated. And to have a beautiful husband and beautiful children! Not to mention beautiful boobs! And to be an ambassador for goodwill and peace and…and orphans! Look at my adorable orphans–and, no, I’m not talking about my beautiful boobs! We could do a production of Annie right here in Narita. The sun’ll come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be suuuuuunnnnn!
Filed under: Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Brangelina, I Want to be Adopted by Brad and Angelina, Knox and Vivienne, Maddox Jolie-Pitt, Matchy-Matchy Nightmares, Photo Op Victims, The Changeling, Zahara Jolie-Pitt
CAMILLA: Charles, dear, who is that gentleman standing next to us in the bathrobe?
CHARLES: You know, dahling, I have absolutely no idear.
CAMILLA: Should we invite him to stand closer for the picture?
CHARLES: No, pet. We’re royals. Also, it’s my understanding that the Japanese have a thing about personal space. Hence all the bowing and whatnot.
CAMILLA: Thank goodness we’re not in another huggy country. Can someone explain to me the obsession with hugging? I find it quite undignified.
CAMILLA: I do like this odd man’s “man-purse,” however. Do you suppose it’s Comme des Garcons?
CHARLES: “Man-purse”? My dahling, I have not the faintest idear–
CAMILLA: (exasperated) That messenger bag he’s wearing. The one with the polka dots.
CHARLES: Ah, yes, right. It’s just, when you said the words “man-purse,” I thought you were talking about, erhm, you know.
CAMILLA: I’m terribly sorry, love, but I have simply not a clue as to what you’re implying.
CHARLES: Well. It’s one of my many pet names for your, erhm, you know…your woohoo.
CAMILLA: Oooooooh! My man-purse. Charles! Really.
CHARLES: You know, where you keep your, erhm, Tampax. And, dare I say, some of my things.
CAMILLA: Dear, I believe you mean “thing.” Your thing. Your thick, juicy–
JAPANESE GUY IN “BATHROBE”: Please for the love of Buddha, somebody take the picture. I just threw up in my mouth and I might kill myself if I listen to any more of this.
receiving a Certificate of Honor from the China Association of
Social Workers. She received the award for fundraising for poor
families and disabled children in China during her “Best Damn Tour.”
BOY: What’s this lady’s name again? April?
GIRL: I don’t know.
AVRIL: Avril. Avril Lavigne. I’m a punk rocker.
BOY: What’s a punk rocker?
GIRL: Somebody with a clothing line at Kohl’s.
AVRIL: It’s a punk rock clothing line.
BOY: If it’s punk rock, should it really be a retail line for a corporate brand?
GIRL: I don’t know.
AVRIL: Hey (hey!)! You (you!)!
BOY: What is she doing?
GIRL: God, I think she’s singing again. I hate when she does that.
BOY: I think she got some eyeliner on my cheek just now.
GIRL: Gee, I hope it wasn’t…kohl…eyeliner. [they laugh uncomfortably]
BOY: Why are we here again?
GIRL: Because the government said they would take our parents away if we didn’t?
GIRL: No. Our names just got chosen out of a hat.
AVRIL: Come a little closer, my little friends! Did you know that I speak Mandarin?
BOY: I have heard that, but I don’t think that’s Mandarin.
AVRIL: It is.
BOY: Okay. Whatever.
GIRL: Are they gonna take our picture or what?
BOY: I hope so. This chick’s face looks like it’s about to melt off.
AVRIL: No it doesn’t! I can hear you, you know.
BOY: Dude, it really does.
GIRL: You could use a facial. Maybe you could get one here.
AVRIL: Waitaminute you guys. This is not about me. This is about me raising money for poor people in China.
BOY: Okay. Thank you.
GIRL: Thank you. From China.
AVRIL: Great. Let’s take the picture! Smile?
GIRL: No, but thanks.
stages a totally meaningless photo-op/converses with an intellectual equal, finally/takes the first baby step toward being able to find Pakistan on a map meets with Pakistan Prez Asif Ali Zardari on Wednesday
ZARDARI: You are more gorgeous* than everyone has been saying. Not at all like a porn star.
PALIN: Thank you so much! Now, um, may I ask you, are you also a mother? I have five children. One of them is special-needs. Well, um, okay, two.
PALIN: In what respect,* President, um, (looks furtively at notes written in ballpoint ink on her right palm) Zar-dar-ee? Is that how ya say it?
ZARDARI: Did I say “hole”? I meant, “whole.” Oh, homonyms!
PALIN: You know, I’m glad you mentioned that. Because it is my understanding* that homonyms can be converted back to, um, um…normal people.
ZARDARI: The photographer is now insisting that we shake hands for the photo. If he’s insisting, I might hump, er, hug.** You. (clears throat) Hug you. I might hug you.
PALIN: Where is Pakistan exactly? Can I see it from my house*?
ZARDARI: (sexy, come-on voice) Why do you ask? Is it the mustache? Hubba-hubba.
PALIN: Thank you, sir, for meeting me today. I feel like I have a much better understanding of Pakis after this.
ZARDARI: And I of Alaskanis!
*these lines were pulled from actual interviews
**the real line was: “If he’s insisting, I might hug”
The world’s shortest man, He Pingping, 20, of China, who stands 2 feet 5.37 inches, met Svetlana Pankratova, 36, the woman with the longest legs (at 4 feet), today in Trafalgar Square to promote the 2009 edition of the Guinness Book of World Records.
He suffers from a type of dwarfism (I’m guessing the dwarfiest kind) which was made so much less freakish by whoever’s decision it was to dress him up like The Last Emperor.
Then things got a lot more awkward when the lady with the giant legs decided to straddle the little guy in the chinky-ass outfit…
…until He Pingping said to the crowd, “Yo! Who’s got an iPhone? Quick! I have the sweetest upskirt photo of all time!!! I’m going to sell this puppy on the internets and make MILLIONS. Does anyone know if giantupskirt.com is taken?! You’re all gonna be working for my tiny ass, like, tomorrow. Suck that, normal-sized bitches.”
Can anyone tell me why Cindy McCain and her daughter Bridget, 16, who was adopted as a baby from Bangladesh, are dressed alike in this photo taken after last Sunday’s church service? Because when I was Bridget’s age, I wanted to look like anyone but my mother. I wanted, in fact, to look like Samantha Micelli.
Who was the boss of my 16 year-old look? Sam. When Sam got a big-ass perm, I got a big-ass perm. When she rocked the acid-wash jeans, I rocked the acid-wash. When Sam started blow-drying her hair straight, I started letting my big-ass perm grow out so I could go back to my naturally straight hair. I had a closet full of baggy sweaters and button down shirts with shoulder pads that I would wear with the sleeves rolled up, all thanks to Sam. Even those seasons when her hair was always pulled back in a barrette, giving her this fug pouf for bangs (a style FLDS women seem to have cribbed)…I copied her exactly.
Unless I’ve got it all wrong and it’s Cindy who’s trying to dress like her 16 year-old daughter. In which case…still weird.
Filed under: Bizarre Sartorial Choices, Bridget McCain, Cindy McCain, Dressing Like Your Mom, Dressing Like Your Teenage Daughter, John McCain, Matchy-Matchy, Photo Op Victims, Samantha Micelli, Who's the Boss?