WTF is Victoria Beckham’s Problem?
Can we take a moment to discuss a bizarre Hollywood phenomenon that baffles me only slightly less than the idea that Snooki is in a stable relationship and I’m not?
Today I’d like to address Victoria Beckham’s ever-persevering scowl, and what could she possibly be so ragingly pissed off about? I’m honestly beginning to think she is trying to hide the fact that she has absolutely no teeth, because this woman has not smiled since “Wannabe” was a hit.
Take a look:
Why so angry, Posh? Did your maid just serve you a shit pie?
If anyone has reason to be content — if not ecstatically happy — it’s Victoria Beckham. Here are just three reasons why:
- First, she became rich and famous by being one-fifth of one of the most talentless and collectively unattractive girl bands in history, the Spice Girls. Is arsenic a spice? Can we please season these birds with it? I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want. I want you to shut the fuck up and go back to slinging bangers and mash at Ye Olde Cock ‘n Gutter Rat.
- Secondly, this lucky cunt is married to David Beckham. DAVID BECKHAM — the most beautiful, magnificent, glorious creature to ever grace planet Earth. Next to David Beckham, even Brad Pitt feels like Jonah Hill. If I had the incredible fortune to wake up next to David Beckham every morning, I’d emerge from the bed each day singing Judy Garland songs followed by the most enthusiastic rendition of Gangnam Style you’ve ever witnessed.
- Lastly, she is the mother of four small children, yet weighs less than any one of them. Most women would undergo Chinese foot binding to fit into her pencil skirt. Wait a second — ding, ding, ding! I may have uncovered the secret behind her persistent foul mood. The bitch hasn’t eaten since the 90s. Damn, it was so obvious.
Still, even the poor, emaciated, Ebola-stricken kids in the Congo can manage to eke out a grin when Sally Struthers hands them a packet of freeze-dried corn. If the three things above can’t make Miss Vic happy, clearly nothing can. Shall we just euthanize the woman and put her out of her misery?
If you aren’t happy with your life, Victoria, I’ll gladly trade you mine. You try sitting behind a desk in a windowless chamber all day then hop on Plenty of Fish and meet up with middle-aged balding dudes who think doling out back-handed compliments is the key to your cooter. When I make a sour puss face, at least I’ve got cause.
Allow me to break it down for you:
Thankless job + dating life sponsored by Zoloft = Scowl
Undeservedly rich & famous + fucking David Beckham = Grin like Ryan Lochte with a gold medal and a new set of grillz
So come on, Vicky. Take a long, hard look at your over-privileged, ridiculously blessed life and give us a little smirk, will you? Because if you think about it, things could be a lot worse. You could be Geri Haliwell.