happyforest
Chatty Member
Carrie Grayson has said herself, on film, that she doesn't care about fashion. Her, ahem, "job", is a CEO (babysitter, housekeeper, cook, doggy daycare provider, ass licker) to a fashion social media influencer. She doesn't care!! Git her Melania Trump's cargo jacket stat!
The recent vlogs and posts editing are more and more showing themselves to be "edited" by either an active drunkard, or someone with zero fucks to give. Neither option is professional, nor does it bode well for the longevity of the brand of Her Travesty, our Sainted Cuntess of All Things Green.
I find it astonishing that Lydia has managed to make Hermés even more passé than any other twatty influencer. Her tone deaf avarice is through the roof. The endless "I want", "I'm ordering", "I'm buying", "I need", statements, sprinkled with tee hee hee wanna be saccharine cuteness trope is only broken by her consistently ordering her wayward husband around.
I was at the market this morning and left in tears. In fact, I'm still sniffling. An elderly couple were in the dog food aisle and were literally wiping tears from their beautiful lined faces. The dog food had sky rocketed, yet again, and they couldn't afford the food they usually used since they're on a very fixed income. They were fretting over choosing a cheaper crap alternative. I bought the bag for them as anyone with an actual heart would have done. They were so ashamed, that it made ME cry even harder. THAT is the world we're living in right now. The struggles are very real and likely to become far worse before things bounce back. If the world isn't set on fire in the meantime.
Yet Lydia, back from the luxurious Maldives mere hours earlier, is unpacking yet another ridiculous tiny purse that cannot hold anything and costed her more than a year of university, and faffing about with loads of tables cloths to stage tables that will never have proper meals served on them. She is the emptiest vessel ever. Doesn't bathe her own dogs, cannot move her own extra paving slabs out of the way to play stage a trestle table that she can't even move herself because, owwww, it's too heavy. That she has fawning sycophants adulating her every move online and paying for her meals shows me we are doomed as a species.
The recent vlogs and posts editing are more and more showing themselves to be "edited" by either an active drunkard, or someone with zero fucks to give. Neither option is professional, nor does it bode well for the longevity of the brand of Her Travesty, our Sainted Cuntess of All Things Green.
I find it astonishing that Lydia has managed to make Hermés even more passé than any other twatty influencer. Her tone deaf avarice is through the roof. The endless "I want", "I'm ordering", "I'm buying", "I need", statements, sprinkled with tee hee hee wanna be saccharine cuteness trope is only broken by her consistently ordering her wayward husband around.
I was at the market this morning and left in tears. In fact, I'm still sniffling. An elderly couple were in the dog food aisle and were literally wiping tears from their beautiful lined faces. The dog food had sky rocketed, yet again, and they couldn't afford the food they usually used since they're on a very fixed income. They were fretting over choosing a cheaper crap alternative. I bought the bag for them as anyone with an actual heart would have done. They were so ashamed, that it made ME cry even harder. THAT is the world we're living in right now. The struggles are very real and likely to become far worse before things bounce back. If the world isn't set on fire in the meantime.
Yet Lydia, back from the luxurious Maldives mere hours earlier, is unpacking yet another ridiculous tiny purse that cannot hold anything and costed her more than a year of university, and faffing about with loads of tables cloths to stage tables that will never have proper meals served on them. She is the emptiest vessel ever. Doesn't bathe her own dogs, cannot move her own extra paving slabs out of the way to play stage a trestle table that she can't even move herself because, owwww, it's too heavy. That she has fawning sycophants adulating her every move online and paying for her meals shows me we are doomed as a species.
She pisses me off making dyslexia an excuse for laziness. She may very well be dyslexic but it then becomes her responsibility to ensure she puts things in place for herself to manage it. Instead, she makes it an excuse for incompetency. Twat.
Formal trousers with slandals. I'm so ... confused.
Enough is Enough…
