Paperblog A Brie Grows in Brooklyn

A Brie Grows in Brooklyn

"Mabel's not crazy... she's unusual."

Where Sadie is.

Where Sadie is.

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Heaven.

Heaven.

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In fall in summer.

In fall in summer.

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Birthday girl.

Birthday girl.

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Masks.

Masks.

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It might be a weekend of only Sadie pictures.

It might be a weekend of only Sadie pictures.

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Bffs (at Kensington Palace Gardens)

Bffs (at Kensington Palace Gardens)

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London selfie. Loving the birthday girl.

London selfie. Loving the birthday girl.

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In the UK with a beauty queen.

In the UK with a beauty queen.

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"Honor Blackman’s Book of Self Defense"

"Honor Blackman’s Book of Self Defense"

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Jacqueline Bisset omg.

Jacqueline Bisset omg.

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The Real Housewives of Melbourne: I Love It

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Ok, so at first, I wasn’t going to watch the Real Housewives of Melbourne because I was like, Melbourne? Rando! But then I made my way through the other two franchises I watch, currently on the air — New York and Orange County. I can’t wait New Jersey because they’re not rich enough — I’m not even lying — although I might start at some point in the near future now that Bravo has put everything on Channel 1000, my portal to happiness.

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So I turned on the Real Housewives of Melbourne, and it was literally like watching aliens living in a parallel universe just walking around, doing things like shopping and having meals. I don’t know where these accents come from, but every single one of these bitches speak like Vulcan the Drag Queen choking on cum. Their voices are so DEEP. Everything they say is so ROUNDED. I love it. The first few episodes I just laughed non-stop.

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The best way I can think of describing it is: Imagine if you at mushrooms, and then you watched “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” and you’re like, “What the fuck is going on? Why are these women speaking in slow motion???” And then you’re like, “Oh, I’m on mushrooms.” ONLY YOU ARE COMPLETELY SOBER.

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I did some research this morning, and apparently there are four international housewife franchises: Athens, Vancouver, France and Melbourne. There has to be a reason that the only one to make it to the United States was Melbourne, and I assume it’s because these bitches get CRAZY at some point in the next few episodes.

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I’m going to pin the blame on this on Jackie, who is married to Ben, the drummer in Silverchair. I guess they were big in the ’90s? “I’m married to a rock star,” Jackie says basically every time she talks.

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"…’The world is much too beautiful for most of us. It can destroy us with its beauty. Have you ever seen anyone faint?’
'Faint? No.'
'No, what?'
'No, Katrina.'
'Then I shall faint for you, dear Francis.'
She stood up, walked to the center of the room, looked directly at Francis, closed her eyes, and collapsed on the rug, her right hip hitting the floor first and she then falling backward, right arm outstretched over her head, her face toward the parlor’s east wall. Francis stood up and looked down at her.
'You did that pretty good,' he said.
She did not move.
'You can get up now,' he said.
But still she did not move. He reached down and took her left hand in his and tugged gently. She did not move. He took both her hands and tugged. She did not move voluntarily, nor did she open her eyes. He pulled her to a sitting position but she remained limp, with closed eyes. He lifted her off the floor in his arms and put her on the sofa. When he sat her down she opened her eyes and sat fully erect. Francis still had one arm on her back.
'My mother taught me that,' Katrina said. 'She said it was useful in strained social situations. I performed it once in a pageant and won great applause…'”
(Ironwood bloomed late, but bloom it did, magnificently and without mercy for my feelings.)

"…’The world is much too beautiful for most of us. It can destroy us with its beauty. Have you ever seen anyone faint?’

'Faint? No.'

'No, what?'

'No, Katrina.'

'Then I shall faint for you, dear Francis.'

She stood up, walked to the center of the room, looked directly at Francis, closed her eyes, and collapsed on the rug, her right hip hitting the floor first and she then falling backward, right arm outstretched over her head, her face toward the parlor’s east wall. Francis stood up and looked down at her.

'You did that pretty good,' he said.

She did not move.

'You can get up now,' he said.

But still she did not move. He reached down and took her left hand in his and tugged gently. She did not move. He took both her hands and tugged. She did not move voluntarily, nor did she open her eyes. He pulled her to a sitting position but she remained limp, with closed eyes. He lifted her off the floor in his arms and put her on the sofa. When he sat her down she opened her eyes and sat fully erect. Francis still had one arm on her back.

'My mother taught me that,' Katrina said. 'She said it was useful in strained social situations. I performed it once in a pageant and won great applause…'”

(Ironwood bloomed late, but bloom it did, magnificently and without mercy for my feelings.)

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"Of course you must know I am not dead. I am merely a woman in self-imposed bondage to a splendid man, to a mannerism of life which he calls a sacrament and I call a magnificent prison."

"Of course you must know I am not dead. I am merely a woman in self-imposed bondage to a splendid man, to a mannerism of life which he calls a sacrament and I call a magnificent prison."

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(Source: danielodowd, via backofhouse)

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