Saturday, 26 July 2014

YOUR DAILY DOSE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S WHORRORS, VOL. 10

beyonce, jay z, instagram, rosie the riveter, paris hilton, tmz,
instagram/beyonce

Here’s Beyonce posing as Rosie the Riveter, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t know a power tool if it bit her on the Illuminati. Or flirted with her husband. Speaking of which, I notice her wedding ring is on prominent display in this Instagram photo so I’m going to assume this whole thing is a ploy to get us to talk about something other than the rumours that her husband is schtupping other women. In which case it didn’t work.
In other gossip whorrors, we have lace brassieres, slutty parents, lactating breasts and badly acted sado-masochism, which makes this one of the tamer instalments I've fed you in weeks so I hope you fuckers are grateful. 

Paris Hilton really puts the “F” in intelligent. Fishwrapper

I want to mock Leonardo DiCaprio but I can’t decide whether to start with the ponytail or the fat gut. TheSuperficial
 

Oh please, Gwen Stefani, as if anyone wants to see a picture of you, breastfeeding … HuffingtonPost
 

Sit down, kids, we’ve got something to tell you: We’re adulterous whores. DailyMail

They finally made a trailer for Fifty Shades of Grey and it wasn't worth the wait. TorontoStar
 

Britney Spears has a new lingerie line so why isn't it called Hillbilly Knickers? ETOnline
 

I LOVED MY NEW SHOES ... UNTIL THEY TRIED TO KILL ME

caribana, rob ford, scotiabank caribbean carnival, minimus, new balance, whorrified,
THE WARNING TAG ON THESE
MINIMUS SHOES STATES:
"Caution. This product increases the strain 
on the foot, calf and Achilles tendon. 
Overuse of this product ... may increase 
the risk of sustaining injury. This product 
should be introduced slowly into 
an exercise routine." But it failed to add 
"THIS MEANS YOU, MARIE!"
so alas, I ignored it.
It started with a twang of discomfort at the gym. I was doing side lunges and jumping squats in the new Minimus mesh trainers I've been waxing euphoric about for weeks, and then suddenly, zouch. Burning knee pain.  It's been growing steadily worse, to the point that complete strangers now give me pitying glances and say, "Knee replacement or arthritis?" I'd kick them but I don't trust my good knee to take all the weight. 

I'm beginning to suspect the adorable Minimus shoes, which are featherlight and have almost zero support and which, to be fair, came with a warning regarding this very "feature." A warning I chose to ignore, as I do all warnings, because I'm a rebel and nothing bad has ever come of that except every single one of my marriages and that thing in Bermuda

According to my medical adviser, Dr. Google, I've either got a ruptured ACL, a strained quadriceps tendon or a torn meniscus. (Editor's note: Or you're getting old. My note: FUCKOFFANDIE!) All I know is I'm in excrutiating, agonizing, hobbling pain and I'm very likely going to miss Caribana. Which you might not think is a big deal but I was really looking forward to meeting Rob Ford so I could pelt butter at him.

It's all enough to make me dive snoutfirst into the vat of Jagermeister I keep around strictly for medicinal purposes. In fact the only thing that keeps me from doing just that is the fact that my mother underwent major heart surgery earlier this week and has not yet uttered one single syllable of complaint. So obviously what I need to do is just shut up, stop feeling sorry for myself and buy her a pair of Minimus trainers so I can show her what pain really is. Either that or go to a doctor and get this fixed instead of sitting around trying to wring pity out of everybody who crosses my path. *rereads last sentence, slaps injured knee* Ha! That's ridicu ... OUCH! GODDAMMIT!!!

EDITOR'S NOTE: *sighs* Are you on some weird kind of mind-altering painkillers or something?
MY NOTE: No. Why? You got any?


Wednesday, 23 July 2014

NURSE WHORRIFIED WILL TEND TO THE INJURED NOW

rob ford, piggly wiggly, pig face, family, marie sutherland, editorspick,
HERE'S ME, MOMENTS BEFORE THE FATEFUL BIKE RIDE (LEG NOT SHOWN) 
It's a photo that has almost zero relevance to this post but I like it so fuck off.

If you notice it's gone mercifully curiously silent here on Whorrified in the past few days, there's a reason for that. And it's called the penitentiary for women. Haha, kidding, no one has put killer wit and traffic-stopping beauty into the Criminal Code (yet), so I'm safe. No, what happened is that some of the family health problems I made reference to earlier have come home to roost, so we've got a loved one recuperating from major surgery in hospital (and doing well) and, more importantly, I got an ouchie on my knee. Because remember when I bragged at length about how I went bike riding for two hours and my notoriously fussy leg didn't fall off, blow up or make an arse of itself in any noticeable way whatsoever? Well, my leg thought that was out of order and so it decided to teach me a lesson. 

For about five days now, I've hardly been able to walk and have been told I've got a torn quadriceps tendon. (Leg's note: Hell yes you do!) So between that and hospital visits and, hmmm, I feel like I'm forgetting something ... oh yeah, my real job ... I'll be making scantier appearances this week. You never know when I'll pop up though, so keep checking in. Especially if either Justin Bieber, Kim Kardashian or Rob Ford does anything stupid. I know, right? WHAT ARE THE ODDS!

Monday, 21 July 2014

I'VE DECIDED THAT MY PIGGLY SHOULD MARRY ROYALTY

prince george, king of england, piggly wiggly, prince william, kate middleton,

Normally I don't give a flying feck about the Royals (except I notice I couldn't bring myself to spell out 'fuck,' so who am I kidding?), but this photo of wee Prince George taking his first steps actually made me say, "Aw-w-w-w-w!" Although I do seem to be frighteningly maudlin when presented with photos of baby anything these days, and I suspect Piggly Wiggly has everything to do with it.

But the real reason I'm referencing this royal non-event is because a thought occurred to me when I read about it, and I don't know how it never occurred to me before: it's entirely possible that my grandbaby could marry that boy some day. Even I could learn to tolerate Camilla and Chahles if it meant I'd get to summer at Windsor Castle. (Prince George: "Jeeves! Fetch my mother-in-law another brandy, will you? In a bucket.")

Think about it: they're a mere six months apart, Piggly is a citizen of the Commonwealth and is clearly going to grow up to be one of those exotic beauties that pasty white guys go gaga for. There's the little matter of an entire ocean and a phalanx of bodyguards being between them, but hey, it's the digital age. He just has to click on one picture of her and the rest will take care of itself. It's how all the new fairy tales end. And so, without further ado, let us begin the process of pimping Piggly out to the future King of England. Below is her first official profile photo on the dating website PlentyofPigglies.com. Please feel free to tweet it out to all of your followers. Especially the British ones. Oh, and the equine quarterlies. I hear all the royals are crazy about that shit.

piggly wiggly
VIA PLENTYofPIGGLIES.COM: 
This lovely young filly has doe eyes and good legs and is a sharp dresser. #PrinceGeorge #MakeAnOffer


CASEY KASEM'S DEAD BODY HAS GONE MISSING NOW

casey kasem, jean thompson, jean kasem,
CASEY AND JEAN IN HAPPIER DAYS, 
 meaning when he still had his wits about him 
but not enough to realize that he had married 
a much-younger madwoman.
I don't usually pray to God because He has never once answered my prayers for a massive lottery win so my time is obviously better spent hunting sugar daddies. However ... and you are going to LOVE how I seque from sugar daddies into this one ... even I would make an exception if it would help Casey Kasem get tucked into the goddam ground where he belongs. Because not only was the poor bastard the subject of a bloodthirsty tug-of-war during his final days, but the battle has waged even more furiously on after his death. 

Kasem has been dead for more than a month now, but hasn't been laid to rest yet because his kids want an autopsy I don't know, something about not trusting a woman who'd spirit a demented old man away from his children and have him treated by witch doctors and his trophy wife doesn't. 
But wait, it gets better. Because now his body has gone missing, and when I say "missing" I mean smuggled into Canada for a private autopsy commissioned by his wife. (Editor's note: I can't even sneak an extra bottle of rum into my luggage without getting detained at customs and this broad somehow got a dead body in? My note: I'm sure she told them it was just vegetables.) 

The crazy bitch plans to have him buried in Montreal despite his stated wish to be buried in Hollywood Hills, because the man had Alzheimer's so nothing he said matters except the part where he put a ring on her finger and gave her what turned out to be fatal control, is how her logic appears to be unfolding. If there really were a God, He'd be making Kasem arise from the dead and smother her with her own hooters. Seriously. The very fact that this hasn't happened proves the Creationists are insane. 
And at this point, I'd like to conclude this hallowed vesper before I wander offscript and get myself permanently consigned to Hell. Amen.

EDITOR'S NOTE: If that happens, just marry Jean Kasem. She'll get you outta there.

Saturday, 19 July 2014

YOUR DAILY DOSE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S WHORRORS, VOL 9

scott disick, khloe kardashian, kourtney kardashian, rihanna, mike ford, other people's whorrors,
SCOTT DISICK GOT SO DRUNK he took a bath with the wrong sister. 
I'm going to have to go scrub my eyeballs with Listerine now.
 Instagram/LetTheLordBeWithYou

Lord Disick just posted this picture of himself enjoying a bubble bath with his wife's sister, which is the sort of thing one should expect of hillbillies so I don't even know why I'm surprised. The Dick has the excellent excuse of being in an almost constant state of inebriation, although I don't know what Khloe's excuse is so I'm just going to assume that incest, like everything else that is wrong with this world, is okay with the Kardashians. I'm not sure whether this picture was taken before or after the Dick was hospitalized for severe alcohol poisoning, but either way, I hope that's antibacterial bubble bath or Khloe's going to get cooties. 

In other moments of celebrity genius, we have Rihanna briefly dabbling in world politics before realizing she doesn't have a fucking clue what a Hamas is, and the new poster boy for the "Put Birth Control Pills in Toronto's Water NOW!" campaign. Enjoy your weekend. I'm off to drain my daughter's liquor cabinet on the pretext of visiting my little Piggly Wiggly. (Whoever invented grandkids is a genius!) *Clink!*

Stick to what you know, Rihanna. Meaning butt shots. Independent

V. Stiviano is too stupid to realize Drake was dissing her. Bossip
 
Great. Another member of the Ford family has popped up like a greasy Whack-a-Mole. HuffingtonPost

World's worst parents just made Paris Hilton want a baby to carry around in her purse. TMZ 


Thursday, 17 July 2014

PIGGLY HAS A FEEDING TUBE AND IS CUTER THAN EVER

Piggly Wiggly, Mike Duffy, Rob Ford, feeding tube, Anne Hathaway, Things on Piggly's head,
YES, THE WORLD CUP IS OVER 
but we still dress our baby in 
Brazil outfits every single day. 
Don't you?



I'm little late getting to my verbal eviscerations today, which will happen when you have to have to work into the wee hours because Mike Duffy is the new Rob Ford. But I don't want either of those buttery visuals in my mind right now so let's move right along to something eminently more delectable (albeit also pretty buttery), my wee delicious Piggly Wiggly. 

Our little Piggles is getting cuter and chubbier by the minute, although those rolls must have packed on by osmosis because heaven knows the little monkey isn't actually eating a damn thing. We tried every trick in the book except for the one the child welfare authorities warned me in writing is a no-no: spiking the breast milk. (Memo to Christ: Don't let me come back as one of their kids. BORING!) 

In the end, my daughter finally resigned herself to the one thing she didn't want to resign herself to: a feeding tube. She's a lionhearted young mother and caving to that forced override wasn't easy for her, but she did what had to be done and she's adjusting to it. And I have to say, it's really helping. In fact I'm thinking of asking for one for Christmas because, by God, I could be ingesting tequila 24/7 and no one would know! 

I wasn't sure about posting this pic of my grandbaby with a tube inserted in her nose, but her mom said, "For God's sake, Mother, you've run pictures of Anne Hathaway's crotch, Kim Kardashian's tits and Blac Chyna's butt. This is a step up." (I have no idea who she gets this cheekiness from but I'm told it's a very common trait among Mennonites.) So, with her mother's blessing, here's my beautiful Piggly with her new best friend. It's not exactly what I had in mind when we started this "Things on Piggly's head" game, but it'll do.