Blabbing as somebody who just got his In-N-Out derriere engaged to a guy, can’t say I blame ya, hon-pie, but who the hell is this man? Hopefully it’s someone with the slightest bit o' journalistic experience—perhaps a thoughtful soul who might discreetly advise you not to walk all over your guests’ every utterance with hyper-barks, grunts and very grand hairdos.
Speaking of the follicularly minded, uh, Ms. T., do tell why most of your Emmy-nominated team, including those for coiffure, et al., are getting dumped here in Hell-Ay and not being invited along for the cross-country trek?
“Because they’re not bitchy enough,” answered one of your so loyal worker bees—as I’m informed those who wrangle by your well-styled side, Ms. Bee, must be “fabulous and bitchy," per your request, and quote, I might add.
Darling, sure you don’t want to be primped by goss columnists? Might serve you a bit better.
No kidding. Darling, you keep on milking that nasty sitch, and I’m sure it’ll get you the In Touch cover you so desire, eventually. Sorry, was that uncharitable of me to say?