HOLLYWOOD, USA – Talk about totally fit for the selfie-appointed king and queen from somewhere way, way the hell out there in beautiful downtown TotallyfullofUknowWhatVille!
That’s right, moms & dads & kids of all ages, and, oh yeah, any and all on the fence, over the river and through the wood, up the creek, and/or still playing hide with your seek multi/trans/or just plain non here to there and all the way back would-be (but not exclusively) gender types, have no fear, your nearest available favorite in your face celebrity-based love birds are at long last making their soon to be ever-so official houw you like us now wedding plans.
And, oh yeah, it ain’t gonna money shot cheap.
Then again, what do you expect? Since, well, as always, that’s just the way this here right about now (and how) must-see to believe, show & do tell present day would-be Liz & Dick are of an otherwise totally collective non-stop full of themselves mind not to matter just, yeah, roll.
All of which should get even more rollier than usual if the future Mr. & Mrs. Way of the West gets to do it all up big time like they’s reportedly been a-planning.
Or, at least ever since the two of them got the bright (matching dim bulbs not included) idea to stage their official unification bout/do you take this ride-a-thon gone wrong somewhere within the cozy wall to wall confines of France’s somewhat well appointed Palace of Versailles.
Editor’s Note: Apparently only because Charlie Sheen rented out the Grand Canyon for an otherwise intimate wing ding and a prayer weekend get together next spring with all the (now) overage women, (once proud) underage girls, and, seemingly infinite variety of ultra-alluring inanimate objects made of space age fiberglass and, almost but not quite smooth and silky, yet still surprisingly supple, easy to penetrate paper mache (with just the right touch of tin foil) he’s had the pleasure of, from start to finish, or, something like that, if not more so (allegedly) – but that’s another story.
In the meantime, in between time, if all the far side of breathless reports coming in via the up to speed (of snail) news wires coming out of Us Weekly and recklessly linked up accordingly with the rest of the all on bored, I mean, board, slap happy media-driven world are to be believed – and seriously, Big Foot, the New York Yankees overspending for mediocre talent, and Ben Stiller announcing to a could care less world the ho-hum bulletin that he only wants to direct notwithstanding-wise (no, not “Notwithstanding-wise” with Catherine Keener, Tilda Swinton, Vera Farmiga, Mario Cantone, and Larry Storch, Pedro Almadovar’s already got the handle on that one – oh, so that’s what that was) – then what the hey, maybe the current nowhere state of an otherwise it out of luck world can, once and for all, be all the way saved, and then some.
If not more so, with or without a note to follow so…what?
In still other words, all the we shall see what we shall see without a prescription.
And, if not, before you know it, there’s a better than simply good chance there will be even more usual suspects from the hey, what about me line drooling its way out of the dumbed down for your inspection celebrity talent pool to chose from in order to make and break what’s left of your once proud way too long day after day heart and mind.
(In stereo, where available.)
“Kanye has never been married and wants a big ass wedding, with all the nuptial trimmings,” a source told the good, semi-wide awake folks at Us of the “Bound 2″ dapper rapper, who has a 6-month-old daughter, named North By-North, with his severely shy and totally afraid of the spotlight fiancee.
Meanwhile, another well placed knuckle dragging mouth breathing insider to what’s soon to gotta get up to get down with Kimmy and Kan added: “They’re not following any sort of budget here, or anything. So, fully expect things to get just a tad out of hand, and well, there’s no telling how many feet. That is, especially once they pick out a cake and go to the end of the Earth trouble of having it delivered by several anything but scrambled squadrons of Jeff Bezos’s get it there in a hurry delivery drones.
All of which would seem to be yet another unavoidable example of West’s got’s to live by motto – “Go big, or, wait, what the f&%$ rhymes with home?”
Either way, Mr. Prince No Harm Just Charming proposed to Ms. Kardashian in similar styled major cool guy cause why fashion back in October when he enlisted the on the beat services of a 50-piece orchestra and booked San Francico’s AT&T Park for a “PLEEEEASE MARRY MEEEEEE!!!” beaming out loud and large from the giant big screen for his well choreographed get down on one knee display of his brand of bashful-driven affection.
And, just to remind anyone still out there sporting a workable pulse and/or drawing what is presumed to be one more in a long line of extended all along for the slide deep breaths, cool, confident, always looking for the right him Kim is no slouch-proof stranger to off the hook spectacles of the obviously several once in the lifetime kind, either.
In other words, she said the big, “I think, sure, okay, I do” to NBA waste of place player Kris Humphries in an otherwise swell conceived outlandishly inefficient $ 10 million dollar wedding in August 2011, that would go on (but not too far) to crash and burn 72 days later when she got a divorce, and, was lucky enough to feel the need to keep – and subsequently open up her own household appliance store, now with three uniquely mundane and moronic locations along the same block of Brentwood real estate, thanks to – several tons of not yet officially opened toasters, blenders, microwave ovens, carving sets, coffee makers, pony thermometers, something that’s supposed to help you digest corn a little better than anything else you got hanging around already, and, oh yeah, a helluva a nicely equipped guy named Dwayne, just in case you ever need to get at those hard to reach places before the cows come home.
So to speak. And, in that case, I think someone just did. Since, well, according to the replay, my lips were moving, while my stomach kept turning.
Oh well, given the current break the bankrupt state of face these two trending hounds seem to now and forever require, methinks that such a flip-a-dip job in the tum-tum sure ain’t setting up to be the last one, don’t ya know?
Well, you do now.