
Alright, Johansson, we’re gonna throw down, right here, RIGHT NOW.
Look, when you stepped out at the 2006 Golden Globes in that red dress that made me hate myself for a month, I said nothing. I sucked it up, bought a bra with gel inserts, and went on a diet.
When you became Woody Allen’s newest muse, stumbling through his manic dialogue with 34% accuracy, I let it go. Nobody can really do Woody Allen’s dialogue, so it was fine that you sucked.
And a few months ago, when I learned you were releasing an album of Tom Waits covers, I bit my tongue and pretended the idea of you attempting to understand the complicated, weather-beaten genius that is Mr. Waits didn’t feel like a dull spoon digging into my brain.
But this, THIS is too much. Dating Reynolds for only a year, and then somehow getting him to propose to you?! I’m not sure if you knew this, Scarlet, but after he and Alanis split, he was so slated to start dating me.
Whatever. All I have to say is watch your back. Especially if you come to New York City and happen to stumble into a dark alleyway in the East Village. Because I’ll be there.
…Right after I dismantle my R.R shrine and cry for a full 24 hours.






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