“But seriously, hon, you put on some nice pants without holes in them, maybe something cute and fluffy, a little softer look, you do your hair for god’s sake, you smile once in awhile, you stick with the same man for more than six weeks, and you stop sulking. It’s not like you’re the only one who’s ever wondered why the public doesn’t love you. No, really. I mean it. I’ve met people like that. Once.”
Ah, after all these years, what has not already been said about the protean talents of hottie and character actor Colin Farrell? Remember the time LiLo gave him her phone number in the gym? And he asked her how old she was? And she said seventeen? And he handed the card back and said call me in a year? and she did? And the rest is (medical) history?
He didn’t look like this back then:
Yes, it’s Colin “hottest fry cook in the chip wagon” Farrell, the pride of Dublin. Actually, given how drastically Lindsay’s gone downhill in the last year, he’s probably out of her league now, however much he might try to tone down teh sex-ay.
And believe me, he’s trying.
So Colin, what do you think of Bruges? (NSFW language, unless you work as a blogger, in which case at least be sure the people in the cafe can’t hear this)
“Hello, dollink. Is problem. I said get me Transylvanian orphan, not Pennsylvanian! Now YOU explain mixup to Fearless Leader. But thanks for hat; I always knew that rotten squirrel vould be good for something someday.”
Dressing for the occasion, my friends, is not just a good idea: it’s the LAW, and breaking it can subject you to fierce penalty from the fashion police. So remember, when you’re going out pope-tackling and will likely end up on the front page of every newspaper in the world, that’s probably the time to put away the old “lucky pope-tacklin’ sweatshirt,” hit the Chanel counter for a little makeover, and maybe pick up something comfortable, something that lets you move, but something that won’t make you look quite so much like a sad little Jean Teasdalewannabe run amok.
Is not how you want to be remembered, honey. When you’re pretty sure to lose out to the other side, your only revenge is to at least look better than they do.
raincoaster is busy today celebrating the great British and Colonial Holiday of Boxing Day (which is traditionally marked by referring to one’s self in the third person, and regifting to the servants the unbearably craptastic gifts you got yesterday) but she and her friends wish you all a happy ending to your seasonal festivities, whatever they may be.
Disclaimer: Manolo the Shoeblogger is not Mr. Manolo Blahnik. This website is not affiliated in any way with Mr. Manolo Blahnik, any products bearing the federally registered trademarks MANOlO®, BlAHNIK® or MANOlO BlAHNIK®, or any licensee of said federally registered trademarks. The views expressed on this website are solely those of the author.
? Remember the time LiLo gave him her phone number in the gym? And he asked her how old she was? And she said seventeen? And he handed the card back and said call me in a year? and she did? And the rest is (medical) history?
