Yes, that pen has already been preserved in bronze and mounted at the altar in St. Peter’s Basilica. And yes, that burgundy leather book thing is the Angelina Jolie version of The Bible (aka the only version that matters).
While Brad Pitt inhaled Utah’s entire supply of the good shit with James Franco at Sundance, his holier half blessed the floor tiles of LAX with her ethereal hooves. Dame St. Angie Jolie was on her way to Kurdistan. But before she got on a plane and filled the lungs of its passengers with the distilled holy water fumes she exhales, she signed autographs for the peasants while wearing some shit from Darth Vader’s collection for The Limited. I know St. Angie Jolie has more important things to worry about (examples: saving the world, injecting virgin blood into her forehead vein of destruction and training her child army for the day they become our overlords), but can she at least try to elevate her fashion?
That shawl thing is just tired. My abuelita wore that years ago to funerals (because she’s always cold and needed something to whip us brats with if we acted wrong) and she wore it better. St. Angie should really bring the couture by wearing former HSOTD, the three way poncho:
But I’ll give St. Angie the benefit of the doubt. She probably wants to wear the must-have fashion item of the century, but knows that she could never come close to working it the way that Suzanne Somers works it.