Saturday, 20 September 2014


paris hilton, pomeranian, mr. amazing, piggly wiggly, uggs

Reason No. 1 I'm glad I'm not filthy rich (and who am I kidding, there are no other reasons, because who doesn't want to be filthy rich?): These teeny tiny adorable Uggs, perfect for a pair of fat little Piggly Wiggly feet. 

I found these while visiting my tiny adorable granddaughter yesterday, and I literally squealed in that way full-grown women do when they see something so cute they start speaking in tongues. Pig tongues. "Look at those teeny tiny little baby Uggs OMG SQUEEEEE!" Thank God someone was there to slap me (Moron Editor: "You're welcome") before any of my fans could see me. I have a reputation to live down to. 

Anyway, Paris Hilton may be the proud owner of the world's smallest Pomeranian, but Piggly Wiggly is the proud owner of the world's smallest Uggs. And they didn't cost no stinkin' $13,000. And they're about 100 times cuter than "Mr. Amazing." And they don't shit on the floor. *raises clenched fist* POVERTY FOREVER!

PARIS HILTON'S NOTE: Teeny tiny Uggs, OMG, SQUEEEE! What kind of animal are they made out of? Do they have furry ones? 
MY NOTE: Somebody keep an eye on that dog of hers.

Thursday, 18 September 2014


beyonce, thigh gap, kylie jenner, ryan gosling, gerard depardieu, paris hilton, teacup pomeranian,
And I don't know about you, but if I named something 'Mr. Amazing' I would damn well expect it to weigh more than 10 ounces.

Just when you were starting to worry about my prolonged absence you were worried, weren't you? I have returned to my regularly scheduled gossiping. I'm admittedly a bit late because yesterday I decided I'd do a shot every time I heard the words "Rob Ford" and by 7 p.m. I was passed out cold on my throne. (No seriously. I have a throne.) But I'm feeling a lot better now and just in time because holy crap, you turn your back on these goddam moron celebrities for one minute and they're beating their wives, getting their face liposucted or having sex in their boyfriend's car and screaming racism.

Or, in the case of Paris Hilton, just trying to get back on the radar somehow. Anyhow. And since she's too old for sex tapes, what she's had to resort to is flapping her inherited wealth at us in the most obscene and inane ways possible. Take her latest stupid purchase, for example. Earlier this week PeeHilt bought the world's smallest Pomeranian from a Calgary breeder for $13,000 and is now treating him exactly as inappropriately as she treated her last fur-bearing accessory, a teacup rat or chihuahua or whatever the fuck it was. All I know is those things supposedly live for 15 years and yet WHEN IS THE LAST TIME ANYONE SAW THAT POOR CREATURE ALIVE? She had it made into a purse years ago, I'm sure of it. 

Oh, but there there, teeny tiny little Pomeranian, don't you worry your chickpea-sized brain about it. She called you Mr. Amazing! That's gotta mean something! *looks away guiltily, rereads article about Kim Kardashian's teacup kitten * The poor inbred little bastard. I give him six weeks.

I've just found out in the most traumatizing way possible that Gerard Depardieu is probably my real father. UsWeekly

Ryan Gosling and some whore I don't care about had a baby.TMZ

Of course Kylie Jenner hasn't had plastic surgery; she's only 17! Her face completely changed all by itself, just like her father's did. HollywoodLife

And the Best Photoshop Award goes to ... well certainly not Beyonce's people. They totally screwed up the stairs between her fake thigh gap. PerezHilton

Wednesday, 17 September 2014


adidas, new balance minimus, adidas pure, asics, whorrified, marie sutherland, bermuda,
In my ongoing quest to maim every single body part that gravity hasn't already taken care of, I have purchased a new pair of workout shoes. 

Which wouldn't ordinarily be news but it did give me an excellent excuse to preen in front of a mirror for an entire afternoon. And also, as you may recall, the last pair I bought damn near killed me. (I don't know about you, but I find that working out is second only to travel to exotic locales in terms of its ability to land me in a wheelchair.)

Like my taste in men, my taste in shoes tends strongly toward the most painfully inappropriate ones available. My mother loves to remind me of the time I bought a pair of ultra-sexy gladiator sandals made of rope and murder. They bit into my skin like piranhas, they ripped my flesh open and yet, and yet ... I continued to wear them until I went septic and wound up in the emergency ward. *sigh* God, they were hot!

Anyway, my last pair of trainers, New Balance Minimus, bewitched me with their feather-lightness, their knockout colours, their aura of athletic chic. They looked great, they felt great, they cost a fortune and they were the worst shoes someone who loves high-impact aerobics could possibly choose. 

After limping through an entire month of a crippling, steadily worsening knee injury, I finally clued in: it was the shoes. I retired them from active duty and went hunting for a more suitable pair. Which would be pretty much anything.

I won't bore you with the details of the agonizing weeks of shoe-searching that followed, other than to tell you that the staff at Foot Locker hide behind the counter when they see me coming now ("Tell her I have Ebola!") and to say that the end result was a pair of black and silver Adidas Adipure. Which I can't recommmend highly enough, as they fit the trifecta of my exacting criteria: ultra-light, super-cute, totally cushiony and above all: cheap. And yes, I do realize that a trifecta is three things, but I think my knee and I have earned a little slack here, you frickin fact-Nazis, you. I've worn them to the gym four days a week for two weeks straight and I am still ambulatory and pretty much pain-free, so guess what? The universe is just going to have to find some other way to maim me.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Whoaaa, mistress! Is that wise? You've got a trip to St. Lucia coming up ...

Tuesday, 16 September 2014


janay palmer, japalm, ray rice, NFL, elevator video,
 from Janay Palmer's Twitter account.
Janay Palmer/Twitter @JanayRice

When last we visited Ray Rice, he was being given the gentlest NFL lashing possible for damn near murdering his fiancĂ©e with a move he probably calls "the elevator special."  It’s been a while since I called him one of the seven princes of hell for that one, so I thought I’d check in and see if the little woman is still alive how Mr. and Mrs. Rice are doing. And the answer is "bullshitty." 

Because sources tell the NY Daily News that Rice has since become a devout Christian *makes puking sounds* and sworn off "hard liquor" in an attempt to better himself. Which sounds like horse pucky to me, because I drink hard liquor all the time and I haven't once beaten anyone senseless, so I dunno, maybe I'm just not drinking enough of it. *takes generous swig of Patron, punches moron editor between the eyes* Huh! Well, I'll be damned. Forgive me, Father? 

EDITOR'S NOTE: Wow *shakes head blearily* that was one of her better ones! In case you've forgotten the horror that was the elevator video, or you're so hammered on hard liquor you can't even remember what I'm talking about, you can view it again here.  

Monday, 15 September 2014


daniele watts, brian james lucas, chef belive, Cheffy BeLive, django unchained, LAPD,
after busting her for being vigourously affectionate in public. 

Django Unchained actress Daniele Watts is making a huge stinking fuss about the fact that she was mistaken for a hooker and arrested for kissing her boyfriend, who is white, in public yesterday. And for a good solid six or seven hours I was totally on board with her, because how hard is it to believe that the same people who think it's okay to murder black kids might be racist as fuck?

Unfortunately, as this story evolves, Watts is starting to emerge as a less sympathetic figure and besides, if we're being honest, I've just seen a picture of her boyfriend and the man scares the crap out of me. According to the police video obtained by TMZ, witnesses said Watts and her boyfriend were having full-on sex in the car, with the door open, in full view of passersby. "The eyewitnesses said the guy was sitting in the seat, she was straddling him and it was for everyone to see. One eyewitness told cops they cleaned themselves up afterward with a tissue." 

Watts, however, claims she was just showing her boyfriend, celebrity chef Brian Lucas, some affection and that people assumed she was a prostitute because she's black and the object of her "affection" is white. What's missing here, thank God, is a videotape of what actually went on in that car, because if we've learned anything from Solange and Ray Rice it's that those goddam things are everywhere. 

However, since there isn't one, all I can do is offer Daniele Watts, and indeed all women, the sage life advice I wish someone had shared with me years ago, because it would have saved me a lot of prison time: When trying not to be mistaken for a prostitute, it is helpful not have sex in public with men who look like meth addicts. Or to further humiliate yourself afterwards by pulling the "Do you know who I am?" card, because that almost never ends well.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Lessons in morality, coming from you? That's rich.
MY NOTE: Yes well I don't pay you to give me your opinion, you moron. NOW SHUT UP AND KEEP MASSAGING MY BUTTOCKS!


kanye, yeezus, wheelchair, disabled, Sydney Australia,
Just when you thought Kanye couldn't possibly be any more of an asshat,
 surprise, you get punked in the most humiliating way possible, which serves you right because how could you underestimate the asininity of someone who orders the president of the United States not to speak his 'baby mama name'? It's pretty clear his relationship with sanity ended years ago.

In case you haven't heard, Kanye stopped a show in Austalia last week and ordered the crowd onto their feet, barking "I can't do this show until everybody stand up. Unless you got a handicap pass and you get special parking and shit." 
When one person in a wheelchair failed to comply, he directed the crowd's attention to the infidel, humiliating him further before finally realizing this was a legitimate cripple and not one of the many people who rent fake wheelchairs and go around pretending their legs don't work because jokes, bro! That shit's hilarious! 

Watch the footage below and see how close that poor kid came to getting attacked by the furious mob. I almost feel sorry for him except that's what you get for paying good money to see an asshat ... although I suppose it's possible he thought he was going to a Christian youth rally. "Girl, you told me we were going to see YEEZUS!" 

Friday, 12 September 2014


robin givens, time, rob ford, oscar pistorius, ray rice, mike tyson,
and I think everyone and their goddam brother should hear it.

Whew! WTF! And also, holy flipping shit!  Is it just me, ladies, or has this been the week that Our Maker chose to show us how desperately men want to kill us and how desperately no one wants to believe that? I mean, look, I'm a pretty tough chick; I've been through a lot and I came out the other end with my head and both middle fingers held high (you don't even know), so a week like this? A week in which Ray Rice basically gets a full presidential pardon for beating his fiancee senseless and Oscar Pistorius gets a judicial pass for murdering his "beloved"? It touches some nerves.

Okay, I've had a few stiff shots of The Botanist and I'm feeling better now. So let me just regroup and start from the beginning: TMZ, in its tireless doing of the Lord's work, publishes a video that shows Ray Rice coming this close to murdering Janay Palmer. Who shortly thereafter marries him and comes to his bristling defence because, hello, that's what abuse victims do. Not one day later, convicted rapist and woman beater Mike Tyson makes headlines by aligning himself with Rob Ford, who gleefully bleats that they are "cut from the same cloth." (Which, to be fair to Mike, is a bit of a cheap shot since I don't recall him ever mowing down elderly women in public.)

The syncronicity of these events is not lost on Tyson's ex-wife Robin Givens, who turns to Time Magazine in an attempt to help someone, anyone, out there who might be listening and desperate to escape her abusive nightmare. And who might justifiably conclude that A) it's hopeless and B) she's crazy, because she watches the news and sees the sort of circus I've just described, above.

It's a painfully insightful article told by a woman who, if we're being honest, I never thought much of back in the day. Now that I'm older and have had my eyes opened and reopened and horrifically, forcibly reopened on an almost daily basis for some 20 years now, I see her and women in general in a whole new light. 

If you read just two things today, make sure Whorrified is one of them and Robin's article about the night she thought she was going to die is the other. It should be required reading for everyone heading into a relationship, for anyone trying to get out of one, for judges, for mayors, and most of all, for that goddam patriarchal moron Roger Goodell, NFL commissioner. If next week doesn't start off with him being fired, I am gonna need a lot more gin.