The Fugfather


Why are you running from us, Taylor?

What are you hiding? Because, you know, I can see the tights, which — God help us all — might even be STIRRUP tights, judging by the nugget of heel flesh baring itself to the world. What are you concealing from me that could be worse than stirrup tights?

SWEET REVLON SANDWICH, CHILD. WASH YOUR FACE. You’re supposed to take off yesterday’s eye liner before you put it on again. For the love of God, nobody get cute and give her a lump of kohl in her stocking this Christmas.

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