Posts Tagged ‘celebrities’
Coming soon: Kevin Spacey sells pink sparkly jewellery
December 15th, 2009 | 
Author: 
He's all class.
Some celebrities will do anything for money.
They must get a taste for it — having a bank account so far in the black that it’s a scientific phenomenon studied by astronomers, closing down entire boulevards on a whim because they feel like shopping without the pesky plebs around, owning garages stuffed to the hilt with ridiculously expensive gleaming gold-plated automobiles… Well, I’m sure that one gets accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle.
But then the recession comes along and wipes out chunks of celebrity fortunes, and suddenly, terrifying normality is knocking at the door.
So what do they do? They sell out.
Worst ever guitar solo ever: Fred Durst
Musician fail
I’d like to re-introduce you to a man called Fred Durst. You may remember him wearing a red cap, bleating away as the lead singer of the phenomenally awful band, Limp Bizkit. Or maybe you remember him as the man who got pwned by Britney Spears*.
Well, in the recent inaugural annual traditional “Iwilldothatformoney Awards for Dumbasses and Numpties”, we bestowed upon Mr Durst the honour of Worst Ever Guitar Solo Ever.
An honorary achievement award was also given out to every member of the audience who had actually paid money to hear it.
You can watch his stunning effort to single-handedly destroy the eardrums of 1,258 people behind the cut.
Warning: this video might make you vomit a little bit in your mouth.
Sartorial splendor in the southern hemisphere: NZ Fashion Week
Pamela tries her best to make butt crack fashionable. Fail.
It was New Zealand Fashion Week last week. Wait, I hear you ask. NZ has a fashion week? We sure do. And it’s not all gumboots, swandris and black singlets. There’s like, actual non-farmery type gear on display.
But you’re right in thinking that the event is not a big deal. The fact it was scheduled for the same time as London Fashion Week proves that NZ Fashion Week isn’t even a blip on the global sartorial radar — there were no journalists, socialites, or buyers out there going, ohmygosh what am I to do? over the scheduling conflict in their calendars.
What happens if you look up Pixie Lott in the thesaurus?
As everyone knows my favourite genre of music is blond female vocalist. I just can’t get enough! Growing up my mother would always listen to Debbie Harry and the odd breathy rendition by Marilyn Monroe.
In my formative years Christina, Britney and Shakira owned the charts. This all contributed to my fervent hankering for the recent onslaught of pseudo-modest soulsters.
But in the last year I’ve become so overwhelmed with mid-20’s female breakthrough artists with blond hair that I can’t tell them apart! Can you help me sort Pixie Boots from Lady Duffy? What sets Duffy apart from Hilary Duff, apart from the former being a diminutive of the latter?
Alive and tweeting
Twitter bird finally giving up the ghost
The whole developed world is in the grip of #TwitterMania – even the interred are getting in on the action.
The bizarre movement of providing a global audience with a play-by-play of sordid exploits began life as a medium of communication for lazy bloggers and self-important narcissists three years ago. Some purport that its name is an acronym for the unnatural phrase “text (of) what I’m thinking toward everyone reading”. This is unconfirmed by the bastard who created the damn thing, Jack Dorsey.
@somepointmid2008 the corporations got their sleazy mitts on it and turned it into an advertising medium more sinister and asinine than TV – something I never thought possible.
Now, with a new and inevitably bleaker decade approaching, and with nearly all the good old celebs dead, metaphysical brainfarts from our loved and lost idols are beamed in from both realms of the afterlife, lest we should miss out on a single minute of the infernal quandary or unbridled paradise of famous souls milling about waiting for The Final Judgement.
Where the elite have no shame
Only a truly self-righteous prick would want everything they own to be red.
Bono is widely accredited with being smug, arrogant and self-righteous. Not content with this public stance he continually goes on to prove everyone right by using the plight of the third world as a marketing outlet.
Project Red customises popular wares with a unique red fascia. Phones, iPods, t-shirts and what have you all come in red so that people just as bare-faced can simultaneously accessorise and brag about their tireless charitable efforts.
Purchasing the Motorola Red phone sends £10 straight to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, and £130 to Motorola. I daren’t suggest what proportion of this went to the Global Fund to Kit Bono out with a Limitless Collection of Ostentatious Commodities (GFKBLCOC).
Celebrity masks: ugly into fugly
Gimp couture
We have been discussing the subject of wearing masks lately at the Iwilldothatformoney office. It’s amazing really… People use a variety of methods – make up, plastic surgery, masks to either hide themselves or emerge from the crowd of us ordinary folk. I’m sure psychologists have done plenty of writing in these areas, but it still surprises me how some celebrities go beyond all conceivable notion to either conceal their insecurity or try to make up for lack of talent…
And there’s so many of them… Take for instance the band ‘Kiss’. Yes, the same ones who made ‘I was made for loving you’ and ‘Crazy Nights’, and ‘Forever’… Well, it seems nothing lasts forever with these guys… Did you go to Download festival 2008? Have you listened to them live? Oh no! Complete vocal and instrumental disaster. As most of you know Americans are quite good with make up and technology, so all fans were treated with nothing but appearances and firing guitars! Yes, firing guitars. You know, boom, boom and then lights coming out… Breathtaking experience! Honestly!
How to snag a footballer in 4 easy steps: the pregnancy trap, by Kayleigh Anne Boyd
An extract from Inexplicable Celebrity: The Diary of Kayleigh-Anne Boyd
Kayleigh-Anne Boyd
Post eviction: Tuesday 15th October
Plotting in my apartment tonight, with aid of bottle of fizzy pink vino (makes me think clearer) about my life amphibian (which is to become mega famous, duh). I must become WAG if want to stay famous. It is logical next step, after Big Brother and celebrity perfume and pop song single.
Luckily I already play the part. Ticky list:
- ultra fab orange tan
- so, so totally hot blond AND black hair extensions
- longest, squarest acrylic nails (specially imported from Brazil)
- wardrobe entirely of lycra, spandex and latex
- Big Brother participation certificate, framed and hanging on my wall
My manager Angus has been guiding me whole way and is totally invested in me becoming WAG too.
And now we have Dwayne White in our steeley graspy sights…
We have made so, so totally awesome plan.
The man has no chance.
Celebrity gossip – a value proposition
More relevant and relatable than you: Banff National Park squirrel shot to fame accidentally - his upcoming album is now tipped to be Christmas #1
Imagine Iran launched a nuke right in the middle of the Baftas, or Grammys, and it was aimed at the hypothetical venue in question, killing everyone important in the world (everything crossed! – alas, I jest.)
Our tabloids would be devoid of content after a week.
They have Sunday supplements and obits prepared eons ago, waiting to be sent to press at the touch of a button. But what then? There will probably be attempts to make icons out of grieving relatives, but I have little enough faith in humanity to expect this to be met with widespread derision and the eventual collapse of the gossip tabloid market. Yay! Here’s hoping!
Tags: celebrities, dumbasses, exploitation, fashion, gossip, marketing, media, money waste, publishing, tv | 
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Who has a voice that makes angels weep, but the brain of a flea?
haha, my eyelash extensions cost more than your mortgage!
I think it’s about time we had another scathing blog post! About celebrities! Especially ones with too much money. And no sense. And this time, I’m talking about… Mariah Carey. A vapid, boring, massively inflated ego on legs.
I never used to care much about Mariah Carey. She was just some long legged songstress who came across like she was trying too hard. I have to admit, her voice is spectacular. To be perfectly honest to the point of embarrassment, I sometimes get goosebumps when I hear her belt out a song.
Problem is, that amazing voice is inextricably attached to an attention-seeking balloon-headed nonny.
I suppose it’s common knowledge she’s some kind of megalomaniac, preening diva. I mean, I knew that – although I never knew how much was truth and how much was rumour mill. But then I found out the brutal reality when I happened to stumble across an episode of E! True Hollywood My One Week in Hell with a Diva Story, or something like that. I promptly threw up a little bit. And then I started to hate Ms Carey, in that way you can somehow hate someone you have never ever met — and hope never ever to meet. The woman is insane. It was such a shock to see an actual live person be such a prize dickhead.
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