Screw You, Gwen Stefani

As I sit here typing this morning (barely…it is 11:24), I am still in my pajamas. Not just any pajamas, mind you. A pinstriped men’s collared shirt, green lounge pants adorned with flowers, and a pair of white athletic socks. My hair, recently washed but not blow-dried, is being held up by some sort of 1989-esque banana clip in a particularly embarrassing shade of unicorn purple. I am on my 4th or 5th cup of coffee (and I still want more), my lips are chapped, and I might be coming down with a scratchy throat-type flu.

So, screw you, Gwen Stefani. Screw you for having the perfect updo in the perfect color with no roots whatsoever, impeccable lipstick application, flawless skin, carrying your Gucci Bjorn with your baby that never cries and has all the cool clothes, none of which are topped with spit-up or snot schmear, and your flowing gowns and inhuman high-heels, and your designer diaper bags with diamond encrusted binkies and gold-plated booties, and your glaringly white teeth and your trendy espresso coffee cup and your sunny smile and your stupid, incredibly catchy songs that I have on a greatest hits album in my car!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 6th, 2006 at 11:54 am and is filed under Celebrity Smut. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.