Jessica and I were just discussing how much people seem to have held onto the whole Jennifer Aniston/Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie bizarre love triangle. Seriously, they split up three years ago -- although in some ways it feels like ten, and in others, as if it were yesterday, given that people still ask them about each other every chance they get. LET IT GO, EVERYONE. Angelina should be more careful and considerate when rhapsodizing about when and how she fell in love with the married man, and for her part, when she's asked about it, Jennifer should probably just take the high road and say, "Wow, are people still talking about that? I feel like we've said everything there is to say on that subject," and then everyone can just MOVE ON so that magazine covers stop saying things like "ANGELINA: LYING SUCCUBUS HUSSY STRUMPET" or "JENNIFER DID EIGHT HOURS OF YOGA AFTER THAT COVER ABOUT HOW ANGELINA IS A LYING SUCCUBUS HUSSY STRUMPET," or in the case of Vogue, this:
She is not helped by the cover quote being taken slightly out of context, but Jennifer is REALLY not being done a solid by the choice of photo. She looks so... tense. And cranky. And like she would rather be stabbing pillows with a pair of scissors than be smiling at the camera right this second. Although I appreciate the attempt at putting "$5" on its cover in any context, and it's very nice of the magazine to try and convince me that pricey clothes are actually "investments," if I am going to pick up an issue of Vogue in these tragic times -- a pretty big "if" on ANY given day, to be honest -- I want it to inspire me, or distract me, or just basically take me away like a really ad-heavy, semi-out-of-touch box of Calgon. This does none of that. Instead, this cold-eyed cover says, "I hate this issue. I don't give a shit about you and your holiday romance or stupid bogus love stories or nice bedrooms. I just want to get the hell off this beach and move to a yurt in Deepest Mongolia because I CANNOT CATCH A BREAK. My friends all allegedly hate that I am dating John Mayer again, I can't sneeze on a dude without someone writing a story about whether I will ever get to use my uterus as a fruit bowl, Angelina won't shut her face, everyone is hell-bent on throwing everything she says back at me, and now apparently I have to FREEZE MYSELF in order to look young? I'M SO SURE. WHERE IS THE F*%&ING GIN?"
She is not helped by the cover quote being taken slightly out of context, but Jennifer is REALLY not being done a solid by the choice of photo. She looks so... tense. And cranky. And like she would rather be stabbing pillows with a pair of scissors than be smiling at the camera right this second. Although I appreciate the attempt at putting "$5" on its cover in any context, and it's very nice of the magazine to try and convince me that pricey clothes are actually "investments," if I am going to pick up an issue of Vogue in these tragic times -- a pretty big "if" on ANY given day, to be honest -- I want it to inspire me, or distract me, or just basically take me away like a really ad-heavy, semi-out-of-touch box of Calgon. This does none of that. Instead, this cold-eyed cover says, "I hate this issue. I don't give a shit about you and your holiday romance or stupid bogus love stories or nice bedrooms. I just want to get the hell off this beach and move to a yurt in Deepest Mongolia because I CANNOT CATCH A BREAK. My friends all allegedly hate that I am dating John Mayer again, I can't sneeze on a dude without someone writing a story about whether I will ever get to use my uterus as a fruit bowl, Angelina won't shut her face, everyone is hell-bent on throwing everything she says back at me, and now apparently I have to FREEZE MYSELF in order to look young? I'M SO SURE. WHERE IS THE F*%&ING GIN?"
