THAT'S NOT WHAT YOUR MOM SAID.
THAT'S NOT WHAT YOUR MOM SAID.
Gwyneth, texting your assistant to tell them to pick you up some red lingerie made from organic cotton hand-spun by yoga masters and sold in an exclusive Manhattan boutique for $5799 does not qualify as "sexing".
Oooh, the second prize types with their lists of requirements? It's hilar when they can't ever figure out why they're still single. And nobody ever tells them because entertainment. You don't ever stop a snowflake train wreck. Your friends will never forgive you.
Sexting yourself doesn't count, Goopy.
While there is plenty of full frontal female nudity on GOT, I'm not sure I've seen that much actual bush. Apparently there are a lot of good waxers in Westeros.
Seriously. At first I liked All About That Bass, but the more I heard it, the more I thought "Um, maybe I don't give a fuck what kind of ass boys like and can just accept my own body because it's my own fucking body?" And then whenever she talks, she says something that makes me want to bang my head against a wall.
She lists one of her genres as "blue-eyed soul". Dear god. What the ever living fuck
She's whiter than Southern. She's from Nantucket.
I thought it was when you queef.
I'm not even willing to consider ghee a standard pantry ingredient. I mean, I could just clarify some butter I guess, but I feel like ghee is a staple ingredient for at max 5-10% of goop readers.
I thought a Sex Bark is the noise one makes when "it slips into the wrong hole on accident".
Gwyneth's love potion candy costs $108 before you add in the pantry ingredients (ghee, coconut oil, honey.) I can get a giant Hershey bar and get down with my hubby for a lot less.
As if I'm going to be taking vagina advice from a teenaged, kibblemunching, saladdodging, barely sentient dingleberry.
"Whoever gets to date me"
Stassa I can't tell you how much I appreciate you posting dirt bag before noon <3 <3 <3 <3