Doesn’t it seem like it was only yesterday when the year was 2008 and we were all 6 years younger and my bloated gut was 3 inches smaller and Maddox was just a 7-year-old boy who was really into knives and faux hawks? And now here’s 12-year-old Maddox walking through LAX with Brad Pitt and St. Angie Jolie while wearing a Slipknot hoody and a look that says, “Don’t EVEN fucking…” That’s just regular old 12-year-old face. I know that face. I’ve made that face and I’ve seen that face at family gatherings. I have this 12 or 13 or 14-year-old cousin who never talks to anyone and if you’re not an app in her iPhone, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. I’ll see her at family things and when I say hi to her, she’ll just roll both of her eyes at me. Since I’m a 12-year-old bitchy mean girl trapped in the body of a skinny fat gay, I can play that game and I roll my eyes back at her. Then she rolls her eyes back at me and then I roll my eyes back at her and we keep doing that until my tia calls for an am-boo-lance, because she thinks we’re both having a stroke. We look like we’re rolling on ecstasy at a no-dance rave.
So, anyway, here’s Maddox, St. Angie and Brad Pitt (wearing the only daytime casual outfit he owns) walking through LAX yesterday. I don’t know where the rest of the child army is, but I’m guessing they’re hiding in St. Angie’s huge ass bag.