O nce upon a '90s era ago, somewhere in the Midwest, I sat lounging in the back of my family's conversion van, watching "Dumb & Dumber" on the TV/VCR combo. (LED screen? Lame.)
As my dad pulled into a gas station to let our seven traveling Fantz bladders go, "ahhhhh," we stared outside wide-eyed, in complete awe of a melodic hissing sound. Like when Madonna gives Medusa head(s).
As I pulled my tall ass out of the back of the van, my Keds crunched all over the crispy exoskeleton-laced concrete. Then large, buzzing insects started dive-bombing my curly head as I ran screaming into the gas station.
"Them's cicadas," said the gas station attendant. "Them only come out every dozen years after making babies underground."
He was right. Females can lay more than 600 eggs, then they let them fester underground where they eat roots and shit. Then they surface up to 17 years later to snow their crunchy shells on driveways, while humming, buzzing and hissing.
Since the northeast is on the very brink of their Magicicada season (those little shits have been underground in wait for 17 years), we're going to dedicate this Hollywood Headaches to cicadas and their star counterparts.
Cicadas have red eyes like Seth Rogen. After Amendment 64 passed, he tweeted, "I'm moving to Colorado." (Let us know when you're coming, buddy, and we'll hotbox this square state in your honor.)
They swarm in hordes like Lindsay Lohan, Courtney Love and Scott Disick. (Frequent (w)horde swarmers to Betty Ford.)
Broads can lay up to 600 eggs like Octomom, Kirk Cameron, Mel Gibson, Kris Jenner and the Duggars. (Quit dumping your rotten eggs all over town, they smell like farts.)
They're loud as shit like Kathy Griffin. (She also sheds her annual exoskeleton, which is made out of gays and Lady Gaga.)
They have an elaborate mating ritual like Jesse James. (And those inked-up hookers he rode in on.)
Babies burrow underground and won't come out until 2030 like Jodi Foster and John Travolta.
Stay inside, friends. It's a mess out there.
--Rihanna was booed in Boston for being 1.5 hours late to a show, while her opening act A$AP Rocky didn't show. I blame Boston for buying tickets to a Rihanna show.
--Ah, the annual Met Gala. A magical place where A-listers meet designers. The theme runs different every year, with this past one "Punk: Chaos to Couture." Kim Kardashian decided it would be "punk" to wear Denver's Botanic Gardens as a dress.
A-list? Kim? No!
--Quote of the week: "I think that when it comes to the Jacksons in general is that people think that they're weird. They're strange. They're crazy. They're odd. And we're not," La Toya Jackson said to Yahoo! gossip site, omg!* "We're not any of those things. I want people to know that we're just like you guys are. We're no different."
So you also pee in alleys, shotgun PBRs, ride the bus and post-date your rent checks like us? Neat.
*Seriously. Stop fucking yelling at us, Yahoo!