We get it, Willow Smith, you are the spawn of two retardedly good looking, talented and famous people which not only makes you rich it makes you genetically predisposed to be infinitely cooler at 9 years old that I ever will be in my whole fucking life. WE GET IT.
We get it, cute guy on the subway. You’re cute. You and your adorable loafers, scarf and jacket, which make me assume you’re either a witty copywriter at a hip ad agency like some modern day Don Draper minus the penchant for misogyny or you’re a documentary filmmaker on your way to a brainstorming session with other cute boys in loafers – EITHER way – you had eye sex with me. Don’t think I didn’t notice. For five subway stops we made love with our retinas and then you suddenly get off at the next stop and walk away like nothing happened? Do you think because you’re cute, you can get away with this? Because WE GET IT. You’re alarmingly cute.
We get it, everyone from high school on Facebook. You’re getting married. Congrats on finding a reasonably priced photographer to take horribly cheesy and awkward engagement photos that involve turtlenecks and a forced intimacy that will be the epitome of your 8-9 year marriage. And thanks for choosing the picture of you two tenderly kissing and grasping hands in a way that conveniently shows off your underwhelming engagement ring as your profile picture. You’ve found someone that wants to sleep with you for a sustained period of time and put up with your bullshit and debilitating insecurity, WE GET IT.
We're not pointing at the stars. Because it's daylight. WE'RE POINTING TO OUR FUTURE.
We get it, skinny bitch. You’re skinny, so you can wear leggings as pants and almost get away with it because you don’t need to find a tunic that is long enough to cover your rotund and omnipresent ass. Then you can go get poutine for lunch and giggle while melted cheese hangs from your lower lip and still manage to somehow look pretty in the process. You know how badly I want poutine for lunch? DO YOU EVEN KNOW. HOW BADLY. I WANT. But for some reason the Gods blessed you with the metabolism of teenage boy, so you can eat poutine for lunch to your heart’s content because you’re just always skinny. WE GET IT.
Got it?
S.
