Before I begin complaining about Jennifer Aniston's hair, I would like to thank Pal from MA, or should I say Aunt Pal from MA, who not only loaned me some earrings, but also sent a nice bone for Tallulah. Sadly, by the time I got my camera to photograph Tallulah enjoying said bone, that thing was already in her past.
Were you worried the earrings were in her gullet, as well?
Okay, so what I have to say is, this was Jennifer Aniston's big moment. It was her opportunity to be all golden and glowy and sunny like she can be, and really show up old Morticia, glowering in the front row, as she in wont to do ALL THE FRICKEN TIME.
Why can't that Angelina Jolie CHEER UP, ever? I mean, you've stolen every man you've ever wanted, you've got all the ink you've ever dreamed of having, you have the 9 million kids you crave. SMILE!
And I really wanted Jennifer Aniston to do it. To be as stunning as I know she can be. And then she didn't brush her hair.
Why do stylists think the rest of us are going to understand their avant-garde things? I mean, maybe Jennifer Aniston's stylist was making some sort of statement I am too shallow to understand, but you know what? Once Jennifer Aniston got to the Vanity Fair party, she brushed her hair. So my feeling is once she had the opportunity to get over the ABJECT TERROR she must have felt at having to go on stage in front of ghoulish Angelina Jolie and her ex-husband–and who wouldn't be nervous about doing that, with all of us watching knowing full well what's going on?–she finally retreated to the bathroom and said, "GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY HAIR?"
And that is when she took a brush to it.
And here's the other part. If I were Jennifer Aniston, I do not care if I were at the Oscars, and the whole world was watching and my career were at stake. If I got out on stage, and old crypt-keeper Angelina Jolie were RIGHT THERE in the front row, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, what I would do is LEAP off the stage, land with my feet on each of Angelina Jolie's armrests, and pull off her snide, too-cool-for-all-this monkey face. I would scream like a banshee and pull that monkey face clean off.
And steal those emerald earrings, is what I'd do. Because those were really pretty.
Then I'd high-tail it out the front door.
Perhaps this is why I'm not a movie star, as I appear to lack any sort of decorum. And I know in reality it is Brad Pitt we should all be mad at, but for some reason–and I am unsure if I have made this evident–I am not fond of Angelina Jolie.
The only person who bugs me more than Angelina Jolie is that Gwyneth Paltrow. I'd like to see those two fight to the death, perhaps on top of the screaming form of that I Kissed a Girl person, Katie Perry or whoever, the one who always has to wear a banana and roll her eyes. Oh, give it up already. Kiss a speeding locomotive.
Someone took her bitter pill today, didn't she?