What. The. Fuck.

I know I’ve been gone some time but on my flight back from Oz did I jet stream in to some parallel world where dressing as an absolute tool has become totes on fleek? (only in said alternative universe would I EVER use the word fleek, so it must be true).

I really didn’t think this could get worse than the aberration Ms Larson wore to the Oscars.  But oh how easily I am fooled.  This is horrific.  Dear God the sleeves are literally lasering my eyeballs in to submission like my Bestie’s recent corrective eye surgery.

However, it’s the appendages that are truly bothering me.  Brie darling, your hair is a fucking disgrace.  And I KNOW you know it.  Just look at your face! But, despite seeming like an impossibility, your hair is not actually the worse thing about this look.  I am not even going to dignify the fucking bullshit which is your footwear. Nope. I’m not.

Brie, much like your namesake this outfit stinks. To high chiffon heaven.