Is Neil Patrick Harris Available? You Bet He is!
Omnipresent-Multi-Faceted-Ellen-Degeneresqe-But-Butcher-Than-Seth-MacFarlane-Will-Ever-Be-Powder-Puff-A-Gay-Gurrl Neil Patrick Harris has been tapped to emcee the 2015 Oscar Telecast.
What a deal for Neil! He really needs the exposure, doesn't he? The "versatile performer" (that's what the Hollywood Reporter called him) and "total power top" (that's what he calls himself) has only hosted a few awards shows in his flash in the pan, barely noticed career-reign over all of mass media. And by a "few" I mean four times at the helm of The Tonys and twice steering broadcasts of Oscar's mixed-race-adopted-sister-with Aspergers-and-a-food-allergy The Emmys. He even won four Emmys for his Tony Shows! So meta!
The Hollywood Reporter went on to gush breathlessly that he'll "also have a rooting interest in one of this year's awards hopefuls, since he's currently appearing in David Fincher's 'Gone Girl.'
Said Harris, "It is truly an honor and a thrill to be asked to host this year's Academy Awards." (It's next years, Neeeeiiiiiil.) Then, because he isn't captured on film in every known medium, every single freaking day, he released a video on Twitter and talked some more; his voice forever rippling throughout the universe with a mesmerizing melodious hum, vibrating on radio waves that glittered like opals!
"I grew up watching the Oscars and was always in such awe of some of the greats who hosted the show. To be asked to follow in the footsteps of Johnny Carson, Billy Crystal, Ellen DeGeneres, and everyone else who had the great fortune of hosting is a bucket list dream come true." Girl. Get gone! Make some room on the stage for those other hungry queens waiting in the wings. I'm not talking about me! I've got this gig. I'm talking about Mario Cantone. Poor little thing got a half-scale day rate on 'The View.'
London, Population Seven Bazillion and One
The most populated city in the United Kingdom (according to some people counting census site), London, is about to be even more populated because Will and Kate, pardon me, The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, have announced that another Windsor Fetus™ will be crowning in April of 2015! Mo babies means mo palaces tho! At least Scotland didn't pack up and sever it's land mass from your island nation! Once the Queen has leveled that country for daring to try and think independent thoughts about independence, there's the extra room for you, great city, to expand! For one baby you say? One more little cute royal baby? No! There will be hundreds more, thousands even! The Royal Womb knows no limits, the Kingdom must expand forever! Rule through Relevancy! Even that Nazi twit Prince Harry will probably start claiming some of the gingettes he's more than likely sired; his niche is totes cemented as "Landed-Gentry" anyway.
Harry's fire-breathing-war-machine-advance into The Highlands with Granny Liz at his side will ensure a plot of castle turf for each and every one of the Georges, Annes, Alices, Alberts, Phillips, etc. that the Windsor Womb curates, and Lord Ginge will forever be known as The Shadow King! The Conqueror!
Oh! I almost forgot the SCOOP! A Royal Insider (Camilla!) told me that Winsdor Fetus Two® is going to have its little placenta harvested for stem cells in order to stave off and maybe reverse HRH Will's hair loss. Seriously, his lame attempts at head angling to hide his male pattern baldness is almost as transparent as HRH Kate's PR savy-sale searches through the bargain bins of a Savile Row H&M! I have it on good authority (Camila) that she actually wears dresses made of diamonds.
Ebola? She Hardly Knows Ya!
Whispy-haired, dried-up-apple-oatmeal-crunch-titties-Tori Spelling might have caught Ebola! Oh no!! How can this be?? All of the charity work that requires her to divide her time between Bel-Air and Liberia? Neiman Marcus secret shopper duties in Dallas? That dastardly-for-the-cameras-only-hubby and his pathetic-passed-around-peen?
None of the above!? Tori was recently "rushed to the Cedars Sinai Hospital after having a severe cough attack," a source (Tori) told reputable journalistic truth source 'Us Weekly.'
Saturday, the reality star coughed and coughed and coughed some more, so much so she "nearly passed out." Cedars couldn't take the guilting and finally admitted her to the "The Spelling Ebola Ward For My Dumb Daughter" that Candy Spelling had built that afternoon. Boring old bronchitis was the culprit, not the exciting Ebola she was hoping for.
A promotional appearance for the second season premiere of her show "True Tori" had to be cancelled, so something good came out of it. How do you say "hypochondriac" in Liberian? Oh, you don't. The luxury of pretend-sick is lost on the third world.
The Faults With Our Stars
Giuliana Rancic is talking to the press, which is weird to me because she is the press right? It's irking that a woman who can barely hold a microphone correctly as she ad infinitum interviews stream after stream of celebrity tuna about who they are wearing as they mock swim their way up stream in the red carpet waters of Hollywood is now considered celebrity herself.
Seriously, y'all. I don't mean to go all "know your place" (yeah I do) but giving celeb-cred to a talking head is like saying to a waiter "Hey! I just loved how you served that potato salad...why don't you sign a book deal with Penguin about making it too?" Anyway, somebody cared enough to ask her about some dumb scar on her back and she told them that it's a scar from having rods inserted in her back because she had scoliosis when she was a baby seal or whatever she is (she's not human). Lies.
Ok maybe it's a rod, but it's one of those fetishist model rod poles that they use to prop up real dolls. Her creepy plastic husband has one too, I'd wager. I have a feeling that somewhere in the hills of LA tonight, at Giuliana & Bill Rancic's sprawling concrete domicile, they are both standing in front of a humongous mirror, putting their teeth whitening trays in, not talking (because that would make their Botox faces crack) and then they'll take turns flat ironing each other's hair before lying down on cool slabs of ice, each in their own coconut flavored oxygen pods. They'll stare at the ceiling until dawn at flickering video screens playing motivational scenes to help them emulate some sort of feeling. Then the day will start again. And so will the lies. Who will they be wearing?
Kirk Cameron Murders, Eats Group of Trick or Treaters
Satanic front rag "The Christian Post" has a shocking tale nestled in its dark pages this week...Kirk Cameron, 80's Teen Porn Star and part time Air Emiriates Flight Host, has admitted to killing and eating a group of trick or treaters because they dared approach him and feign greedy interest in his "bucket of candy." They also asked for some "extremely rare, dark chocolate Kit-Kats" that are "limited edition."
Since Halloween is now a Christian sanctioned event, Kirk was immediately absolved of the crime and the kids were instantly reincarnated as highly intelligent goats...albeit goats doomed to munch for eternity on the overgrown grasses in the backyard of his heinous Sherman Oaks enclave (pre-post-war-faux brick, figures).
Well, he might as well have killed them, because he's killing us all with the horseshit film that he is hawking: "Kirk Cameron's Saving Christmas." What. The? From The Christian Post:
"Saving Christmas" debunks theories that Christmas began as a pagan celebration of the Winter Solstice. In the interview, Cameron just applied that same theory to Halloween, because he's a scientist. Then he said some other things about stuff that sounded kind of like, I dunno, ISIS-y. Can The DHS send a drone already?