I have no idea why they felt entitled to attend a SAG post party but somehow, these low classy f&ckers made it in the door and tried to turn the place into a redneck prom. Forget the dress, I prefer to be offended by the cheap ass half choker she"s wearing around her neck with a matching wristlet. It"s a decade too late and it"s wrong, wrong, wrong! But above all things, above the trashy fashion, above the godawful hair and makeup...I object most to her husband. And this, my friends, is what my mother likes to call Barbequed Pork. Cha Siew in Cantonese. It started when I was 17, after a trip to the mall. I threw a tantrum because she wouldn"t buy me this really killer dress for our winter semi-formal. Apparently my mother, who custom orders fur coats for my dad (I do NOT approve) didn’t think $300 was a reasonable amount of money to spend on one evening of total gorgessity. So I refused to speak to her at dinner. And instead of tearing a scathing strip off my ass like she normally would have done, she just looked at me and said, "I should have given birth to a piece of barbequed pork instead of giving birth to you. At least I could have eaten something and it would have tasted damn goooood." And then I laughed my arse off. Because Barbequed Pork is her way of saying that there are always choices in life. And if Britney had remembered that, if she had chosen a great piece of juicy barbequed pork from the best local butcher in Chinatown, half fat the way real Asians love it, our smut society would not have been subjected to such terrible suffering over the last 2 years. Sigh.