Canadian Brangeloonies and the tortured loved ones they drag to shit like this, gathered at the Church of Brangie’s traveling tent revival set up at The Toronto International Film Festival yesterday to worship their gods St. Angie and Brad Pitt live in the flesh. Some Brangeloonies immediately started mumbling in tongues (example: whatangelinadidwasreallyCOOLalalakdafbklallaCOOL) and others offered up their hysterical tears to the sacred vein on Angie’s forehead, which might be hibernating in a cocoon of Botox for the month.
Believe it or not, Brad Pitt, who is trying to beat Tom Brady and Ashton Kutcher in a JTT hair-alike contest, nor St. Angie were the stars of last night’s Moneyball premiere. Nor was her purse and chain (not to be confused with her ball and chin). Nor skinny Jonah Hill. Nor Anna Faris. Nor David Justice. Nor Stephen Bishop. The real star was the brave Cloonelooney who threw herself into a sea of Brangeloonies. Get some of this:
So now you know what your mama was really doing last night.