Rihanna wasn’t at the Grammys this year (she wasn’t nominated; was “Stay” already up for stuff, or will it be next year? Because that song is really very hauntingly good, and I hope it’s not about Chris Brown)(WHOOPS, never mind, she won a non-televised Grammy and “Stay” was up but lost, MOVE ALONG), but she did attend a pre-party. And did not seem all that stoked about it.
In fact, nothing about this outfit seems excited to be there except for the shoes. That is a lukewarm combination of things we’ve seen before — like, say, this and this and the jewelry from this, all tossed with some honey mustard dressing and hurled onto her body. It is a leg and a sternum and some cleav with perfunctory fabric knotted around it in a color the likes of which Cameron Diaz would see in a toilet and cry dehydration (yes, her new book talks about excrement of all kinds and how to study it, a process she apparently didn’t apply to the script for Bad Teacher, HEY-OOOOOO). I’m bored, and she looks like she is, too.
I also need to vent about how much I hate that tattoo she has under her boobs. EVERY time I see it, I think for a second that she forgot to wash there, which I guess is the lady equivalent of when you make little boys scrub behind their ears. CLEAN YOUR UNDERS, EVERYONE. Cameron Diaz probably talks about that, too. Why is this post about Cameron Diaz all of a sudden? I do think Cammy D would have my back on disliking this, though. Now let’s all go drink some water. By the rambling, weird tenor of this post, one could infer that I do need some.