Sometimes you just feel like the baddest thing on two legs. And then you get your portrait painted and you channel your inner diva. And then you’re immortalized in paint and we’re looking at you, hung up in a literal museum at your freshest. And you know it. And you’ll be there for all time with the best “come at me” look you’ve ever given.
Yeah. Sometimes that happens.
““I’m not saying that I’m perfect. I’m just saying that my lips are orange and my hair is wrapped about my neck like a scarf and I’m still gonna steal your boyfriend.”
“You guys. Look. I can dance and also pull off mom jeans. Who said early America was the worst? Also you guys look stupid in your hats. Damn this pink shirt really brings out my ‘I’ve been workin on the railroad’ glow.”
“I hate to quote Lil’ Wayne, because I usually go with Sarte, but I’m a woman, an artist, a collar connoisseur, plus look at this lace. THIS F*CKING LACE THAT I PAINTED IS INSANE. So it feels appropriate. Because bitch I AM the bomb like Tick Tick.”
“And then I was like – ‘ok fine I’ll save Egypt’ and I didn’t even break a sweat because these curls do not do sweat. Also, speaking of my hair, do we love my hair or do we love my hair? DAMN. It’s like I was chosen by God or something. Someone should write a full-length Broadway musical about me.”
“And then I said, ‘no, make it look like pincers of a crab on my forehead.’ And the outfit was complete. I didn’t even need a youtube tutorial to help me tie this ascot. No seriously. You don’t believe me? FINE I’M GOING TO UNTIE IT AND THEN TIE IT AGAIN IN FRONT OF YOU.”