Friday, November 22, 2013

Miley...we need to talk.

So I get this text from the girl I'm sponsoring (karma!) and it's this selfie:


Miley. I thought you were kidding when you sent me that snapchat of bleach. I thought your clothes were the biggest cry for help you could scream internally and project onto the masses. I thought that eating twenty-five pounds of chocolate couldn't make you feel anything but regret, but apparently it also makes you feel stoned, so there's a silver lining.

That being said, there is only one person who is allowed/can have/look fierce/be majestic/remind me of god/pull off this look:

Go home, Miley. Go home.


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