If you ranked all the greatest supermodels of the world past and present, Phoebe Price would be at the very top and all the other supermodels would be in big pile far, far, far below her. But at the Cannes Film Festival premiere of The Great Gatsby today, Cindy Crawford put her fingers on PP’s toes when she sashayed out onto the red carpet looking like this. Cindy Crawford came hard for Chicken Cutlets (that visual, I know) by looking like a Botoxod leather vision in white. Richard Gere’s former gerbil handler also gets extra points, because the top of her dress sort of looks like two bedazzled antelopes kissing.
Meteorologists in Cannes reported that today was the first day in the history of weather reporting that there was not one single gust of wind in Cannes. Cindy Crawford’s hair just naturally looks like the wind is blowing through it. On the last night of Cannes, Cindy and PP should have a pose-off at the top of the stairs. The world as we know it would never be the same again!
Here’s a few others who tried to out-glamour Cindy Crawford tonight. In order after Cindy: Basement Baby, Nicole Kidman (the hell is that hair?), Bai Ling, Carey Mulligan with the Gatsby dudes, Leonardo DiCatchAho with Tobey Maguire and Lana Del Taco with Florence Welch. (Yes, Florence was standing too close to Cindy when that picture of her drowning in her own hair was taken).
The job of an international supermodel and cultural icon of the ho stroll never stops, even when an 80-something woman’s Mercedes flips on its side after hitting a parked Range Rover in West Hollywood. I know, I’m trying to, but I can’t either…
As firefighters pulled out the woman from her car, Chicken Cutlets put her hand on hip and gave FACE!, BODY!, FACE!, BODY! and FACE!, because RuPaul’s “Supermodel” always plays in her head and her body is a slave to the camera clicks. PP’s pose game never takes a minute off.
The paparazzi say that while PP was coming out of Chin Chin after having lunch, she witnessed the car crash. (insert your car crash witnessing a car crash jokes here) PP temporarily put her supermodel pose show on pause to talk to the police about what she saw and to hypnotize a tall piece of sweaty hotness with her freckled beauty. Firefighters pulled the woman out of her car, put her on a stretcher and took her to the hospital.
And after they left, PP winked and kept on posing, because she’ll keep on posing till the world ends. This is what that Nana Gouvêa mess longs to be.
Lindsay Lohan showed up to the amfAR Gala in NYC last night and where oh where to begin…
THOSE CHEEKS! Phoebe Price better inject her farm to table cheeks with massive amounts of growth hormones, because LiLo is showing her up in the chicken cutlets department. LiLo’s got a Costco chicken cutlets family pack stuffed into those cheeks.
THOSE LIPS! That lipstick color makes her lips look like two long keloids. Not that she was invited, but the only way LiLo can go to the Grammys this Sunday is if she covers the puffy labia lips on her face with a pussy pastie.
THAT WIG WEAVE THING! I’m not sure if that’s an old wig, factory-defected Barbie hair from the Mattel factory or if she just pulled clumps of hair out of the drain, sprayed them down with shellac and threw that shit on her head.
THOSE SHOES! Those are the shoes that come in the amateur drag queen starter kit.
WOODY ALLEN! Creepy ass Woody Allen looks creeped out and that’s an achievement since the contents of his hard drive can probably make the most seasoned FBI agent blush.
THE ENTIRE LOOK! It’s very “60-something retired Italian porn star turned black widow.“
With all that being said, this might be the best she’s looked in months! I guess living in White Oprah’s
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While most of you lazy bitches took Labor Day off, Phoebe Price the hardest working non-worker on the stroll gave the paps something to click about in Malibu yesterday. Not since I watched a dog scoot along the sand on a Long Island beach this weekend have I seen graceful artistry like this. (Seriously, only the smartest dog knows that sand is the best exfoliant for pooch anus.) Yesterday was not the day to go into the ocean in Malibu. Because of the shiny sparks that shot off of PP’s freckles with every hot pose she busted out, the sharks were swarming the shore.
PP posed with a mane of seaweed, posed with the waves and posed with one of many magazines (read: one magazine) she’s in this month. Remember when PP used to pose with her spread in Appalachian Magazine? Well, now she’s showing off her spread in one of the biggest and most exclusives magazines in France (I made that up). PP has truly gone international!
Ever since Cannes started, I know that you have refused to acknowledge its existence until the festival’s official mascot and flaming torch of chicken cutlets charisma opened up the ceremony by lighting up the red carpet. Well, now that Phoebe Price is there flexing the life out of her hormone-free chicken cutlets cheeks for the international media, we can say that Cannes has officially begun.
Almost every time I post pictures of PP delivering serious poses at Cannes, some not-knowing bitch has to email me and ask, “Why is she there?” BLASPHEMY! That’s like asking, “Why does it feel good when I touch my feel good place?” or “Why am I most happiest when I stick my tongue in a tub of Duncan Hines frosting?” The answer is obvious. If there was no PP, there would be no Cannes. If there was no Cannes, there would be no PP. The two go together like a horse and marriage, or whatever the lyrics to the Married with Children theme song are. Oh, and PP’s also there every year, because France outsources all their seat filling duties to America.
And if you needed more proof that PP is so delicately special that she can naturally spin silk out of her precious oyster, here you go.
With the deaths of MCA, Falling Bear and Bucket List Baby this week (in other words, fuck this week hard in the taint), you might need a temporary pick-up, so here’s a gallery of pictures featuring adorable dog friends and the ravishing beauties who love them.
Because your dog deserves to scoot its itchy ass in luxury while you’re away, The Pooch Hotel (not to be confused with Charlie Sheen’s Cooch Hotel a few blocks down) opened its doors in Hollywood last night with a party full of sparkling A-list jewels including Phoebe Price, Rip Taylor, a dead Yorkie on Rip’s head, Joan Van Ark, Kate Linder and the newest edition to the wall of beauty in front of my bed (so I go to sleep at night knowing the world is not totally an ugly place): BARBARA VAN ORDEN!
Everything you need to know about Barbara Van Orden you can learn by putting on a pair of silk gloves before clicking on the pair of diamonds (seriously) on her website. It’s the most luxurious thing you’ll see today unless you somehow peeked into my apartment window this morning and watched me slow dance with my dog to Natalie Cole’s “Unforgettable” CD.
Monday has happened to all of us again and some of you are sitting in your cubicle prison looking for a reason to go on. Well, stop making a noose out of paper clips, because there is a reason to go on now that international supermodel and Hot Babe forever, Phoebe Price, is taking her signature pose game across state lines! Everybody on television keeps telling my ass that NYC is going to be hotter than a freckle on a ginger cat’s pussy today and now I know why. The heat is rising from the piping hot poses Chicken Cutlets threw down in Miami yesterday afternoon.
Looking like a photo shoot for Chickens Magazine: Swimsuit Edition, PP posed for the paps despite the fact that a flock of raver birds died on her ginger mane after crashing into the side of her head. Glamour doesn’t stop for bird carcasses clinging to your weave. I checked CNN and they haven’t yet reported on why Chicken Cutlets is in Florida, but I’m guessing she’s there on a goodwill mission as the official Ambassador of the Ho Stroll. Oh Florida, you just keep finding new ways to keep your title as the fuckery capital of the world.
And I wish I was about to tell you that Barry Manilow’s got Marilyn Manson’s zombie cream smeared all over his lips, but no. Before Marilyn Manson and Lana Del Rey, made everyone ask themselves “But where’s the fourth horseman?” by posing for this picture with Barry Manilow at the Echo Awards in Germany yesterday, the two got close at a charity event in Berlin. An ONTDer posted the pictures and proclaimed, “NEW COUPLE ALERT!” Marilyn and Lana Del Taco apparently left the event together and snuck into the same hotel. Marilyn sure does have a type and that type is any trick who is stoned enough to lick on his wrinkled powdered donut hole without vomming up her dignity.
Whores throw a lot of shit bombs at Lana Delrrhea, but I don’t hate her and that’s probably because she’s like Chicken Cutlets if Chicken Cutlets sedated herself down to play Jennifer North in a public access remake of Valley of the Dolls. But the only thing creepier than Blahna Del Nay humping on Marilyn Manson (who is transforming into an extra bloated Nicolas Cage as Skrillex) in a hotel room is if Barry Manilow was in the corner finger banging his innie while humming the melody to “Please Don’t Be Scared.”
Ashley Judd was on Canada’s The Marilyn Denis Show the other day to talk about her Double Jeopardy/Not Without My Daughter TV knock-off called Missing and some hos (read: Radar and The Daily Mail) think she Naomi Judd-ed up her face by filling her cheeks with a Phoebe Price special. Dr. Anthony Youn, a plastic surgeon, put his eyeballs on these pictures of Ashley and told Radar that in his professional opinion, she done knocked her face up with fillers:
“Ashley Judd’s wrinkles are Missing. I am flabbergasted that she appears to have changed her face like this. I suspect that she’s had a good dose of Botox in her forehead to smooth it and injections of fat into her cheeks to plump them up. Ten years ago Ashley had some of the best cheeks in the business. Unfortunately, now they look too puffy. Hopefully they’re swollen from a recent treatment and will settle down soon.”
Best cheeks in the business?! First of all, if Dr. Youn is talking about the ho stroll business, then I am flabbergasted (FLABBERGASTED, I tell you!) by his words since that title has always belonged to Chicken Cutlets. Second of all, if Dr. Youn is talking about show business, then I am still flabbergasted by his words since that title has always belonged to John Travolta. Ten thousand cum shots to his ass cheeks don’t lie.
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Somebody had to give the videobomb of the night and even though I was secretly hoping it would be an actual lit bomb behind Madge as she licked her own ego during her ten-year-long acceptance speech, it was Tina Fey! While who ever was on stage was throwing out the names of the nominees for Best Actress in a TV Comedy, Amy Poehler thought the camera lens and her were having a special intimate moment together, but then Tina snuck in like a chrishansenhaveaseat.gif. Tina is seriously becoming a seasoned bomber, because this is her second time stealing a ho’s shine at an awards show.
So if your ass is ever sitting in a $30,000 borrowed gown at an awards show and you hear the sounds of the Jaws theme behind you, it’s Tina Fey stealing your shot! Or it’s Phoebe Price since the secret ingredient in her chicken cutlets are magnets that drag her toward the camera. Wait. Are we sure this isn’t actually Chicken Cutlets in a Tina Fey mask?
