Oh, hello, Aubrey.
Congratulations on your new show that premieres tonight. I am tempted to watch. So tempted. And yet I think I might hate myself in the morning, and be a tiny bit stupider, and also maybe wake up with a face full of makeup and ribbons woven into my scalp as if they are a weave and no way to explain to my children that Mommy Just Accidentally Got TV-Drunk because they don’t understand words and will just want to floss their eight teeth with my head decor. But, look: I need to know what it is that you’re wearing. Turn around and give us a full look.
Yep: These ruffly hot pants must be from the same line as Rumer Willis’s lung cancer dress. What is the statement here, exactly? That your crotch is, in fact, smoking hot? That your groin is made of tar? That people can donate to cancer research by sticking Benjamins up your franklin? It’s confusing. And I don’t like living in a world where Aubrey O’Day’s pelvis is making me think.