Wedding Delayed By Uninvited Guest Who Cut Off His Own Balls

Delaying one's wedding could be due to any number of understandable factors. Cold feet. Too many pre-ceremony shots with the best man. Frizzy hair. 

Here's a new one for you: because a crazed dude decided to cut off his balls!

An unidentified man in London did just this with a pair of scissors in a church right before some poor couple's wedding was about to take place. He then proceded to throw some chairs around in a rage for good measure, delaying the events a half hour. One guest interviewed by U.K.'s Brentwood Weekly News reported to seeing a testicle and a pool of blood on the church floor. “There was a bit of an atmosphere,” this person said. “The bride didn’t know anything about it, i’m sure she does now. But it took place. I’m surprised the vicar held it all together.”

Hey, better a random ball-severer than a runaway groom, right?

Correction: This post has been updated to reflect that the man who decided to chop off his own balls was not in fact the groom, but rather another, unidentified person. 

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Photo: Getty Images

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Man With World's Biggest Penis Weighs In On Jon Hamm's Girth: "His Problem Is His Balls"

We learn around fifth grade that the more you tell people to stop talking about something that makes you self-conscious, they will talk about it even more. (My rude awakening to this phenomenon involved a Hebrew School bully named Ashley Goldfond who kept insisting that I bought my clothes from "the rag shop." That is NOT even a real store, Ashley Goldfond.)

This goes double for the Internet, as Jon Hamm and his superhero-stature penis are now learning first-hand. As more commando shots of Hamm popped up online and reached meme-esque proportions (no pun intended), Hamm sort of dug himself into a hole by articulating his annoyance about the maximum-penile-exposure situation.

With additional rumors involving AMC's not-so-subtly purchasing briefs for Hamm as a roundabout request for him to put his penis away, Jon Hamm Penis-Gate evolved into an argument about the sexual objectification of celebrities, the double standard when it comes to actresses' speaking out against media ogling of their own bodies (Christina Hendricks, anyone), and generally... well, gave Jon Hamm's penis even more airtime.

As a last-ditch effort, Hamm's now instated a new waist-up photo shoot rule, according to a friend of the Mad Men actor on the gossip website Naughty Or Nice Rob:

“He wants to be shot from the waist up moving forward. You will notice that on the Rolling Stone cover he is currently on does not show all of Jon, just him from the waist up. The poor guy is at a loss. He thinks of himself as an actor, not a celebrity. He is not interested in fame, just the work. He is frightened that he is becoming an Internet joke. But everything he has done so far to stop this has failed. One thing is for sure, you will never see him walking down the street again commando, never!”

THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS, YOU GUYS.

If you think Jon Hamm's ham is the most impressive one out there, you're forgetting about Jonah Falcon, who, at 13.5 inches, officially possesses the world's biggest penis. And Falcon has some pragmatic, disillusioning information for y'all about the reality of Jon Hamm's penis : testicle ratio. Via HuffPo:

"I'm willing to bet his problem is his balls. Balls cause the most bulges. His penis is not going down his pant leg like mine. I prefer constriction myself. As you get older, your balls drop and need support. If it's his penis that's causing the problem, he can point it up like European men."

Ah! I saw a guy in a Speedo in a hot tub doing that once. I thought it was just misshapen or whatever. You never stop learning, do you?

Follow Anna on Twitter: @annabreslaw

Photo via Getty Images

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Does <i>Spring Breakers</i> Suck Balls or Am I Just Sexist?

Director Harmony Korine is known for his cray-cray druggy art-house films, and Spring Breakers is no different. Unfortunately. (Warning: Spoilers ahead...)

I can't imagine what it must be like to grow up like Vanessa Hudgens or Selena Gomez, where you are forced to be a Role Model to Girls Everywhere not by choice, but because your big break turned you into the kind of star who is expected to stand up for all things pure and sweet and feminine. Can you blame them for wanting to shed that label like a winter coat and take a f*****g vacation? What twentysomething girl wouldn't want to let loose on spring break?

“Harmony told me that it was going to be freeing,” Ashley Benson said, according to the production notes for the film—and any girl who has ever tried to Find Herself knows that nothing is more intoxicating than freedom.

The movie has more bongs, beer bongs, and bare breasts than any college frat party I've ever been to, but you could argue that there is more than a whisper of truth to this gritty excess, even when the images are uncomfortable: a girl passed out on the floor next to a toilet filled with vomit; a lead actress writhing on the floor, soaked in beer, teasingly removing her bikini top as she slurs in a sing-song voice to the male partygoers next to her that they will never get her p***y.

But whatever to all of that. Spring Breakers, at 90-ish minutes, is two-thirds Girls Gone Wild-debauchery, and that is the stomach-able part. The last 30 minutes are gratuitously violent, an orgy (literally) of guns tossed around like the toys the ensemble cast used to rob a chicken shack at the movie's onset. In matching bathing suits (there is lots of matching happening toward the end of the film, which tries very hard to be a music video) the lead actresses dance in front of a glowing Florida sunset, twirling semi-automatic riffles like batons to a Britney Spears song. (Seriously. There are two Britney songs in the movie.) Then, for reasons the movie will make you care very little about, the actresses bust into a Florida mansion and shoot everyone in it and drive away in a convertible.

As the movie climaxes, these scenes of pretty actresses in neon bikinis expertly blowing peoples' brains out are interspersed with scenes of them looking weary and calling their moms. "I want to be a good person," Hudgens’ character says to a voicemail. "I want to do better." Maybe these side-by-side sequences are supposed to feel powerful, to represent the struggle we face to figure out who we are. Instead, they fall flat—so pat and stupid, like the emotionally-stunted conclusion to every LiveJournal post any of us ever wrote when we were 19. 

The movie was so crappy that I started to wonder if the problem was me. Would the movie seem more likeable if the leads were male? Would it seem more entertaining—and cool, even—if Justin Bieber or Daniel Radcliffe or Zac Efron were wearing the ski masks? Taking it one step further: Should I celebrate that these roles were written for women, and give Korine a big feminist-fist-bump because—in one particularly violent scene—Vanessa Hudgens gets to burst into a diner with a squirt gun and yell like a lunatic to “get on your fucking knees?” Am I projecting my own feelings on how these starlets, who I've grown up rooting for, should act?

Korine will say that I am passing moral judgments on the characters when he did no such thing, to paraphrase the defense he used when his best-known film Kids was released to swarms of controversy in 1995. But there is blood on his hands. In the production notes, Korine explains: “Everyone is familiar with Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens because they have this specific image. It’s really fun for me to push them into some kind of other reality, something more sinister and insane.”

I'm not saying, exactly, that these actresses were used. I get why they wanted to make this movie.

While watching, I kept thinking about this time in college when a video leaked of a freshman girl, naked, playfully making sexual comments into a camera as a group of athletes filmed her. The guys edited the video into a montage with music and a title slide. They meant to send it just to the lacrosse team, but in a heartbeat the whole campus saw it. Mortifying. She transferred.

All twentysomething girls deserve moments of freedom. But how sad, sad, sad when they are caught on film.

Photo Credit: Muse Productions

Elisa is Cosmo's social media editor. Follow her on Twitter or find her on Facebook.

From Cosmopolitan.com. Visit Handbags reviews and advice for best reference here

Does <i>Spring Breakers</i> Suck Balls or Am I Just Sexist?

Director Harmony Korine is known for his cray-cray druggy art-house films, and Spring Breakers is no different. Unfortunately. (Warning: Spoilers ahead...)

I can't imagine what it must be like to grow up like Vanessa Hudgens or Selena Gomez, where you are forced to be a Role Model to Girls Everywhere not by choice, but because your big break turned you into the kind of star who is expected to stand up for all things pure and sweet and feminine. Can you blame them for wanting to shed that label like a winter coat and take a f*****g vacation? What twentysomething girl wouldn't want to let loose on spring break?

“Harmony told me that it was going to be freeing,” Ashley Benson said, according to the production notes for the film—and any girl who has ever tried to Find Herself knows that nothing is more intoxicating than freedom.

The movie has more bongs, beer bongs, and bare breasts than any college frat party I've ever been to, but you could argue that there is more than a whisper of truth to this gritty excess, even when the images are uncomfortable: a girl passed out on the floor next to a toilet filled with vomit; a lead actress writhing on the floor, soaked in beer, teasingly removing her bikini top as she slurs in a sing-song voice to the male partygoers next to her that they will never get her p***y.

But whatever to all of that. Spring Breakers, at 90-ish minutes, is two-thirds Girls Gone Wild-debauchery, and that is the stomach-able part. The last 30 minutes are gratuitously violent, an orgy (literally) of guns tossed around like the toys the ensemble cast used to rob a chicken shack at the movie's onset. In matching bathing suits (there is lots of matching happening toward the end of the film, which tries very hard to be a music video) the lead actresses dance in front of a glowing Florida sunset, twirling semi-automatic riffles like batons to a Britney Spears song. (Seriously. There are two Britney songs in the movie.) Then, for reasons the movie will make you care very little about, the actresses bust into a Florida mansion and shoot everyone in it and drive away in a convertible.

As the movie climaxes, these scenes of pretty actresses in neon bikinis expertly blowing peoples' brains out are interspersed with scenes of them looking weary and calling their moms. "I want to be a good person," Hudgens’ character says to a voicemail. "I want to do better." Maybe these side-by-side sequences are supposed to feel powerful, to represent the struggle we face to figure out who we are. Instead, they fall flat—so pat and stupid, like the emotionally-stunted conclusion to every LiveJournal post any of us ever wrote when we were 19. 

The movie was so crappy that I started to wonder if the problem was me. Would the movie seem more likeable if the leads were male? Would it seem more entertaining—and cool, even—if Justin Bieber or Daniel Radcliffe or Zac Efron were wearing the ski masks? Taking it one step further: Should I celebrate that these roles were written for women, and give Korine a big feminist-fist-bump because—in one particularly violent scene—Vanessa Hudgens gets to burst into a diner with a squirt gun and yell like a lunatic to “get on your fucking knees?” Am I projecting my own feelings on how these starlets, who I've grown up rooting for, should act?

Korine will say that I am passing moral judgments on the characters when he did no such thing, to paraphrase the defense he used when his best-known film Kids was released to swarms of controversy in 1995. But there is blood on his hands. In the production notes, Korine explains: “Everyone is familiar with Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens because they have this specific image. It’s really fun for me to push them into some kind of other reality, something more sinister and insane.”

I'm not saying, exactly, that these actresses were used. I get why they wanted to make this movie.

While watching, I kept thinking about this time in college when a video leaked of a freshman girl, naked, playfully making sexual comments into a camera as a group of athletes filmed her. The guys edited the video into a montage with music and a title slide. They meant to send it just to the lacrosse team, but in a heartbeat the whole campus saw it. Mortifying. She transferred.

All twentysomething girls deserve moments of freedom. But how sad, sad, sad when they are caught on film.

Photo Credit: Muse Productions

Elisa is Cosmo's social media editor. Follow her on Twitter or find her on Facebook.

From Cosmopolitan.com. Visit Handbags reviews and advice for best reference here

Does <i>Spring Breakers</i> Suck Balls or Am I Just Sexist?

Director Harmony Korine is known for his cray-cray druggy art-house films, and Spring Breakers is no different. Unfortunately. (Warning: Spoilers ahead...)

I can't imagine what it must be like to grow up like Vanessa Hudgens or Selena Gomez, where you are forced to be a Role Model to Girls Everywhere not by choice, but because your big break turned you into the kind of star who is expected to stand up for all things pure and sweet and feminine. Can you blame them for wanting to shed that label like a winter coat and take a f*****g vacation? What twentysomething girl wouldn't want to let loose on spring break?

“Harmony told me that it was going to be freeing,” Ashley Benson said, according to the production notes for the film—and any girl who has ever tried to Find Herself knows that nothing is more intoxicating than freedom.

The movie has more bongs, beer bongs, and bare breasts than any college frat party I've ever been to, but you could argue that there is more than a whisper of truth to this gritty excess, even when the images are uncomfortable: a girl passed out on the floor next to a toilet filled with vomit; a lead actress writhing on the floor, soaked in beer, teasingly removing her bikini top as she slurs in a sing-song voice to the male partygoers next to her that they will never get her p***y.

But whatever to all of that. Spring Breakers, at 90-ish minutes, is two-thirds Girls Gone Wild-debauchery, and that is the stomach-able part. The last 30 minutes are gratuitously violent, an orgy (literally) of guns tossed around like the toys the ensemble cast used to rob a chicken shack at the movie's onset. In matching bathing suits (there is lots of matching happening toward the end of the film, which tries very hard to be a music video) the lead actresses dance in front of a glowing Florida sunset, twirling semi-automatic riffles like batons to a Britney Spears song. (Seriously. There are two Britney songs in the movie.) Then, for reasons the movie will make you care very little about, the actresses bust into a Florida mansion and shoot everyone in it and drive away in a convertible.

As the movie climaxes, these scenes of pretty actresses in neon bikinis expertly blowing peoples' brains out are interspersed with scenes of them looking weary and calling their moms. "I want to be a good person," Hudgens’ character says to a voicemail. "I want to do better." Maybe these side-by-side sequences are supposed to feel powerful, to represent the struggle we face to figure out who we are. Instead, they fall flat—so pat and stupid, like the emotionally-stunted conclusion to every LiveJournal post any of us ever wrote when we were 19. 

The movie was so crappy that I started to wonder if the problem was me. Would the movie seem more likeable if the leads were male? Would it seem more entertaining—and cool, even—if Justin Bieber or Daniel Radcliffe or Zac Efron were wearing the ski masks? Taking it one step further: Should I celebrate that these roles were written for women, and give Korine a big feminist-fist-bump because—in one particularly violent scene—Vanessa Hudgens gets to burst into a diner with a squirt gun and yell like a lunatic to “get on your fucking knees?” Am I projecting my own feelings on how these starlets, who I've grown up rooting for, should act?

Korine will say that I am passing moral judgments on the characters when he did no such thing, to paraphrase the defense he used when his best-known film Kids was released to swarms of controversy in 1995. But there is blood on his hands. In the production notes, Korine explains: “Everyone is familiar with Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens because they have this specific image. It’s really fun for me to push them into some kind of other reality, something more sinister and insane.”

I'm not saying, exactly, that these actresses were used. I get why they wanted to make this movie.

While watching, I kept thinking about this time in college when a video leaked of a freshman girl, naked, playfully making sexual comments into a camera as a group of athletes filmed her. The guys edited the video into a montage with music and a title slide. They meant to send it just to the lacrosse team, but in a heartbeat the whole campus saw it. Mortifying. She transferred.

All twentysomething girls deserve moments of freedom. But how sad, sad, sad when they are caught on film.

Photo Credit: Muse Productions

Elisa is Cosmo's social media editor. Follow her on Twitter or find her on Facebook.

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