Now that she’s hosting a talent show, I feel like Kelly Rowland is having a J.Lo moment. This is very HOLA LOVERS, except poorly transcribed.
There is no hola, and no lovers — only something like, “What ho! LOVE ME!” And if her command isn’t enough to achieve that, she’s hoping to bait you with her boobs. If yesterday’s outfit turned her black bra into sunglasses for her nipples, then… what does that make this, a tinted window? A moonroof? Look, all I know is, when the produce is straining my grocery bag that much, I switch to a larger one. And I’m not even sure what to say about the pants.
They’re so shimmery and blue, I keep expecting a cougar in a bikini and Wintour shades to float up her leg on a raft, hand trailing in the water, as she asks the pool boy to be a dear and rub sunscreen on her crotch.