You know, I was going to post a video making the rounds (a week fucking later) of gay hater (gayter?) Kirk Cameron farting from his talk hole about what he thinks a woman should do with her body, but Mike Seaver hating on abortion is about as unsurprising as me telling you that last night I undressed a Sourdough Jack before making sweet mouth love to it. So instead of going there with Kirk, let’s all remember a happier time when he flared his jazz hands and twinkled from every toe while dancing around with Marie Osmond in a magical land full of gigantic uncut gold dicks. But mostly, I’m posting this to beg Marie Osmond to return her hair to its 80s glory when it was a square-shaped afro mullet of lusciousness. For the love of Tuan Anh, Marie, take your hair back to that place.
via Queerty
29 years after Marie Osmond and Stephen Craig summoned a mob of Mormon side-eyes by getting divorced, they have decided to give that shit another go. Marie and Stephen starred in an reboot of their first wedding by getting married for the second time at the Las Vegas Mormon Temple (please tell me it has video poker in the lobby) this morning. Since Marie’s face today looks nothing like it did 40 years ago thanks to porcelain facials, she wanted Stephen to recognize her so she wore the same hot dress she wore to their original wedding in 1982.
Marie and Stephen chose to do Marriage: The Sequel today, because it’s the born day of her late mother and late son Michael. Marie released this statement after getting married FOR REAL this time.
“I am so happy and look forward to sharing my life with Stephen, who is an amazing man as well as a great father to my children.”
I will only approve of this Mormon union if the maid of honor at the wedding was Baby Mary Hart:
Porcelain fumes are a helluva drug.
via People
Jennifer Aniston and Nicole Kidman star together in Just Go With It (aka Not Another One Of Those Fucking Aniston Rom-Coms) and to promote that mess, the former interviewed the latter for Harper’s Bazaar. Jennifer starts the article with a little introduction:
I remember the first time I met Nicole Kidman. We were at a Golden Globes party in 2005 and—typical Hollywood story—we share an agent. I remember meeting this tall, beautiful woman who was there with her mom and dad. I was completely starstruck, while she was nothing but gracious. Nicole had just seen one of my rom-coms, as they call them, and was instantly kind and complimentary. I loved her immediately.
Close your mouth, Jen! I know Nicole Kidman has the complexion of your favorite Marie Osmond doll that gets prime real estate in your nursery, but break your boner and pull back! And then Jennifer started to ask Nicole questions. Instead of asking Nicole important questions like if she’s ever been styled by Suri or if she kept one of Tommy Girl’s prostate simulators as a souvenir, Jennifer asked the usual:
JA: I feel awkward getting into interviewer mode, but tell me about your life in Nashville with Keith [Urban] and Sunday Rose. How long have you now lived there?
NK: Five years.
JA: I was just down South in Georgia, and it
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