I just told Heather that I don’t know if I possess the right words — or enough of them — to describe the cornucopia of looks paraded by one Miss Lady Gaga last night. (She’s Miss Gaga, because I might get nasty.) I swear, I might just devolve into strings of adjectives. For example:
This is…futuristic prom rave murder sparkle cable installation.
And this is all…Minnie Mouse Barbie-hair Bowie-face scary sequin pointer finger Brazilian wax ass-flap party.
Making this…freaky zombie claw bomb squad dental exam aftermath. (From which I’m worried Elton may never recover.)
And this one is obviously, “Jesus Christ, why do I always get seated behind these people?! If Gaga stabs me in the face with that thing, it is ON. I SWEAR TO GOD, GAGA. YOU’RE GOING DOWN.”