Is it St. Patty’s yet? We half Scotts-Irish Galway girls look the damn part and can drink Patty O’Reilly under the table. Now that’s a holiday Feinbergs can wrap their mits around. And in my case, meat paws. Anywhodippitydooda, it’s still raining Liars here in the durty. The “He went to JARED” shit abounds, and it’s occurred to me that AMURICA’s idea of romance consists of some rancid butt floss from VS and some stroke fuel at The Melting Pot or Cheesecake Factory. Yikes, y’all.
When Babygirl thinks of love, this is what her chard-soaked brain conjures up:
Vogue really understood the assignment on making Big and Carrie pose at the most romantical of NYC landmarks, Lincoln Center. If you happen to be a boy reading this and haven’t done shiz yet for your boo for tomorrow, take her to the fountain and recreate some Moonstruck magic. In like Flint.