But I’m not here to make judgment calls. Correction : judgment calls regarding her extra-curricular activities, or — you know. Life in general. Instead, the query that’s a hot tip for me, Mary . . . A cursory glance at her courtroom attire, and I have to ask : Does she not have any queer friends? Or even white-washed WeHo GHEYS, for that matter?
‘Cause if so, whatever shady phag let her out of the house wearing that $30 Hollywood Blvd synthetic wig needs to be bound and gagged in Abercrombie & Fitch for the next decade! [The ultimate punishment : release the little shit once he’s past his tweenage prime.]
Oh, but wait. I assume you guys know about The T that went down in Twitter-town?
Miss Bynes had a less-than cordial response. I’ll spare the vitriol and leave it As It Is.
Mmm-hrmm. I know, baby girl. I know. Oh, but just a little technical ish? Well aware you were “in character” and all that : but this don’t look nothin’ like no grin . . .
Diggin’ that low-rez, slightly glitched-out look, howevs. Very au courant, in fact!
Sheet. Just one last thing. Hon, umm . . .the make-up brush? Makes all the difference if you touch your skin. Pinky-swear and pierced cheeks, darlin’.
If you’re not able to read the quotation obscured by my likeness?
That strand of syllables won’t be found among the pages of Cottonmouth Kisses,
but rather within the Degeneracy: A Love Letter project —
which I’m hereby placing ‘on the market’
ISO some serious match-making. . .
Said another way? Prospective publishers, literary agents, &/or
friends/kins/neighbors of the aforementioned?