I stand by my general assessment of Adam Levine as a semi-douchebag, but I’m too impressed by his Eddie Vedder impersonation to write him off altogether. Last night on “The Tonight Show,” Adam managed to keep a straight face as he and Jimmy took on impressions of Iggy Azalea, Frank Sinatra and Michael Jackson. This game needs to make an appearance at karaoke nights more often!
Sometime last week, I read a short little gossip item about how Adam Levine is apparently apologizing to all of his exes for his past behavior in advance of his upcoming wedding to Behati Prinsloo. I didn’t think much of it, because who really cares about Adam Levine outside of his adorably homoerotic relationship with fellow “Voice” judge Blake Shelton? But then I saw a teaser for a segment on a morning news show about how apologizing to your exes is a “trend” or something, so I did some Googling to see what Adam hath wrought. And lo and behold, according to The New York Post, NYMag.com and Fox News NY, going on an “ex apology tour” is a THING now. I’m not sure how I feel. Keep reading »
Well, color me shocked and disappointed. Adam Levine has launched a women’s and men’s fashion line with Kmart and it is full of Coachella- and wallet-friendly items you can basically already purchase from stores like Forever 21 and the Mossimo section at Target. Well, except for that white model’s Africa shirt. That is an Adam Levine signature piece, I assume. Anyway, the relative banal-ness of a fashion line created by Adam Levine is hardly shocking or disappointing. What IS shocking and disappointing, specifically to me, is that Adam did not design an affordably priced, poorly manufactured Baja hoodie for either men or women. Keep reading »
Oh, how I love a blabbermouth. Adam Levine was just awarded the coveted (not really) title of “Sexiest Man Alive” by People magazine, which means it’s the perfect time for some random chick to spill the beans about the time she made out with the falsetto-voiced singer when he was in between Victoria’s Secret models. Over at Popdust, “Kiss and Tell Girl” sets the scene; she’s at a Hollywood party, dancing like only a hammered white girl can:
The thing about the worm is that it requires violently propelling one’s body along the floor. It also involved propelling my dress above my waist and exposing my purple thong. I relay this not because I was embarrassed, but because this unintentional revelation of my buttocks played a pivotal role in the next five hours of my life. Adam could not help but take notice of my careening ass cheeks, and, after the perfunctory exchange of pleasantries, invited me into his boudoir.
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