- Kate Hudson and Matt Bellamy are not breaking up now. [Lainey Gossip]
- Of course Kaley Cuoco tattooed her wedding date on her neck. [Dlisted]
- Get Back In The Game With Sexy Girls In Sports Bras [theCHIVE]
- Lady Gaga‘s puke show is about art, darling, not eating disorders. [Fishwrapper]
- Neil DeGrasse Tyson Loves The “Stoned Neil DeGrasse Tyson” Video [The Frisky]
- “Americans should always be armed, even in the shower.” Those words happened. [The Daily Banter]
- Hello, Brittney Palmer… [Popoholic]
- Those are Sharon Stone‘s nipples. [tooFab]
- Ginta Lapina in lingerie, anyone? [Hollywood Tuna]
- Tommy Chong was cellmates with The Wolf of Wall Street. [FilmDrunk]
- We get it, Miley Cyrus, you have an ass.. type thing. [DrunkenStepfather: Site is NSFW]
THE SUPERFICIAL | About • Facebook • Twitter
Photos: Fame/Flynet, INFphoto, Pacific Coast News
Welcome to Monday’s The Crap We Missed capping an exciting day of exposed nipples and penis outlines, or what our journalism professor will later call “an object lesson in collegiate failure.” But the joke’s on you, academia, because while Moby‘s porno stache and Anjelica Huston‘s melting Muppet face may not be the pressing issues of our culture, we know how much joy our readers will get inferring Ryan Sweeting‘s inner monologue of anguish and suicicde from this picture.
So you can keep your cap and gown, squares. We’ll take Uma Thurman‘s frighteningly similar-looking brother doing yoga any day,
- Photo Boy
Click Here To Start The Gallery
Photo: Fame/Flynet, INFphoto, Pacific Coast News, Splash News, WENN
When we last left Jessica Simpson in January, she was looking noticeably skinnier, so it was only a matter of time until that all ended and she returned to being a tater skin girl in a kale world. Except here she is somehow looking even thinner albeit to the detriment of whatever the hell’s happening to her legs. I’ve always been more of a boob man, but calves aren’t supposed to look like that, right? That can’t be healthy. More importantly, where are her boob- oh, no. Oh no no no no. I just found out Mila Kunis is pregnant, don’t you do this to me now, God. Don’t you fucking do this to me now. GIVE ME BACK MY BOOBS.
So far today I’ve told you that all the joy and magic has been sperminated out of the world, made you look at Justin Bieber pretend to be James Dean, and showed you the new Lady Gaga video and Scott Disick‘s penis back-to-back. So to make up for that, here’s Heidi Klum‘s nipple falling out of her bikini. Just try and forget Hitler personally designed it to kill hundreds of Jews. If not thousands.
Photo: Splash News, Vantagesnews/AKM-GSI
While it’s true I hate Scott Disick and would throw cancer in his face should the opportunity present itself, I am, however, personally invested in making sure women know that thin pretty boys who obsessed over hair care products while the other boys hunted, fished, and date raped your sister have surprisingly large dicks. So here’s Scott Disick’s penis which I don’t want a single goddamn one of you comparing to Jon Hamm‘s. I’ve already aimed Mel Gibson at Harvey Levin who’ll pay for his crimes. Oh, yes, he’ll pay…
Photos: Splash News
Instead of getting into Lady Gaga‘s
“ARTPOP film” video for “G.U.Y.” and all the Real Housewives bullshit that dwells within, let me tell you about the most fucked up celebrity dream I’ve ever had in all my years writing this site and that’s coming off of an least three year run where I’m back in college banging Paris Hilton. Always Paris Hilton… It happened Saturday night, and for all intents and purposes, I’m not even sure I’m the same person anymore or ever will be.
I’m front row at a Lady Gaga concert, so right away, nightmare. Pure fucking nightmare. What happens next is what I get for watching her tit get puked on: She starts walking over the audience on giant stilts and pretends to shit out those giant, uncooked tubes of raw sausages you see at butcher’s shop, so interpret that however you like because I’ve already settled on an unrequited love for Photo Boy meets brain tumor. Naturally, or unnaturally based on the ending of that last sentence, I start flipping out. Which doesn’t sit well with her because it turns out we’re dating, and now I’m on the end of an hysterical phone call about how I don’t “respect her art” which is when my brain decides it’s time to wake up. Not from the nightmare of getting raw sausage shat on my face by Lady GaGa, but from the unparalleled torture of listening to an emotional woman. That’s the hitting the pavement moment. This is what this job has done to my mind, so I hope you bastards are hap- oh god, now I’m the woman! *jumps out window*