Johnny Weir, girl I knew I could count on you. You made my world so bright with your ridiculous bitch fights over Birkin bags and your tiny dog. Then you and the Mister decided to try and reconcile, and while there were still nuggets of joy in that, my heart did sink a bit at the thought of no more glitter farts of bitchness.
But hope was not all lost it seems, because the happy reconciliation is already over! Guess that post-nup didn’t come with a 100% no-more arrest guarantee?
Johnny Weir and Victor Voronov are like the Crystal Light version of Ike Turner and Richard Simmons’ baby. It’s a constant barrage of short shorts and bitch fights. One minute they’re in love, the next they are running off to every news source around to talk massive crap about the other. As a quasi “professional” (hey, I have a degree and can find myself when I Google, that is all you need nowadays) celebrity shit talker, I find it all amazing.
Recently, Weir and Voronov decided to call off their short lived marriage for a multitude of reasons, the best being that Voronov had the sequined balls to deface one of Weir’s precious Birkin bags. But after they both realized they were much less interesting without each other, they called the divorce off with one of the world’s best post nuptial agreements ever. They have clauses specifying alllllll the different shady shit that constitutes as cheating, one being no rub off parties. It let you know that while the two were attempting to work out their shit, they weren’t letting themselves become boring.
And boring they are not! On Saturday night, the two got into a massive fight at their New Jersey home. Weir went snooping in Victor’s phone, which is a surefire way to definitely find something to piss you off, and read some texts Victor had sent talking shit about Johnny. He flew off the handle and started attacking Victor, long haired Persian style, with his elegantly manicured nails. Victor ran off to the local police station the next day, not to get a restraining order or anything practical, just to document the whole thing and give the media something else to talk about. He then quickly skipped over to Inside Edition to share his pain about the whole ordeal.
“I was terrified. He was red. I said, if you don’t leave me alone, I will call the police. He would not leave me alone. So I had my phone; I was trying to call the police. So he attacked me to get the phone out of my hand.
All of the attacks came from his fingernails. He has long fingernails, big fingernails too. And they all came from scratching.”
I see that subtle dig at Johnny by calling his fingers fat. Well played, Victor.
Victor claims the texts were from months earlier when they first started their public bitchfest. Damn, Victor must have the 32 GB iPhone, because my lame 8 GB one gets full so quick there is no way I can have any texts that are over a few weeks old. Or Voronov is lying to look better, whichever.
Johnny hasn’t come out and said anything, though Victor is claiming the divorce is back on and totally happening. Uh huh. ‘Til next time either one wants to go shopping and realizes their bank account isn’t as large as they’d like. And then suddenly love will be conquering all again.