So the thing is, Kristin Wiig is in London, and it’s February. And while that’s not the same thing as being in, say, Nova Scotia in February, it’s not exactly a Tahitian winter paradise either.
Maybe if I weren’t so aware of where she is, and concerned that she is freezing, I could look at this objectively and see some full-on fab. But she looks like she’s waiting for someone to bring her the Mai Tai she ordered, so she can watch the sunset and then, like, eat a shrimp cocktail, and then more actual cocktail-cocktails, and then fall asleep on the beach.
If she were Penelope, her one-upper character on Saturday Night Live, she would refute these allegations by claiming she invented winter, and that February is named after her left breast, and she bought the beach and moved it to London and then combined the shrimp and her cocktail-cocktails into one uber seafood beverage, but that her alcohol tolerance is larger than most of the United Kingdom, and that she doesn’t sleep on the sand, the sand sleeps on her. And then the Target lady would go, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT? AISLE FIVE? AAAAARRRRRR,” and run away, and the Asshole Lady would chew her gum and yawn, and the Hot Girl Who Turns Out To Be Kind of Gross would make a really lousy and cringe-worthy and unfunny scatological joke, Aunt Linda would give it two “HUUUUUUUUH”s and a “Naaaaaaaaaah,” and then Gilly would shoot me with a spitball full of knives. And it would maybe all be worth it if Will Forte popped by to say, “Gillyyyyyyyy,” but since he probably won’t, then I’ll just sit in the corner and cry on my shredded face and then wonder whether I should’ve just liked this damn outfit to begin with and saved myself the grief.
[Photos: Splash News]