Usually Christina Hendricks uses scaffolding, two tire jacks and five rolls of duct tape to hike her magnificent chichis all the way past her face until they’re touching her eyebrows. But at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party last night, her Mount Everest titty balls weren’t suffocating and they weren’t touching God’s feet and hos probably said to her, “So that’s what your face looks like, bitch!”
Christina Hendricks’ chichi domes look magnificent when they’re squeezed up to the roof of heaven or when they look like two extra large mounds of uncooked sourdough cooling on a rack (see: above), but what in Mrs. Roper’s cleaning dress HELL is that on her body?! When I was in the 4th grade, I had a friend whose mom didn’t have money to buy her a Halloween costume, so I helped her make a witch costume using a nun’s gown I wore the year before (yes, I was a nun for Halloween in the 3rd grade, don’t ask how much shit I got for that), a black curtain panel from Ikea and black construction paper. My friend’s costume cost zero dollars, was busted as fuck and was made by two brats whose hands were shaking from eating too much candy and it still looked more luxurious and fashion forward than that shit Christina wore. That dress looks like something Endora would wear to the funeral of a whore she hated. It looks like something from the American Horror Story: Coven collection at Dress Barn.
With all that being said, Christina Hendricks, hausfrau in mourning dress and all, was still the hottest look at that VF party (no, it wasn’t), because mostly everybody else (just Kate Beckinsale) looked like the last place loser at the Miss Bolivia 1993 pageant.