Dear Gossips,
Middle fingers up
Put them hands high
Wave it in his face
Tell him…
Boy bye
Like, what else is there to talk about today? Because, really, there is only Beyoncé. And we will definitely be talking a lot about Beyoncé. In at least two posts. But first let’s do some catch-up from Friday when Big G decided to greet the President of the United States in his monogrammed bathrobe.
What have I been telling you about this kid? He thinks he’s a boss. No. He KNOWS he’s a boss. He behaves like a boss. Crashing his parents’ dinner party with the Obamas, after everyone’s eaten, so as to make a grand late entrance, without even bothering to put on some formal clothes. Because why? This is when he gets to remind POTUS that while he had to work for his position, campaign, and make promises and actually take on a job, all Big G had to do was exist: you were elected, I was BORN.
Check him out on the rocking horse that the Obamas gifted to him. Does it look like his ma has to coax him into playing on it? Like he has to be convinced to waste his goddamn time properly appreciating the present given to him by the President of the United States?
And then when he finally does start rocking back and forth on it, she has to be his biggest cheerleader, clapping her hands and singing songs like he’s just discovered a new planet:
Now imagine a whole lifetime of this. Everything he will ever do will require applause. There is, however, another who understands what it means to live like this: Blue Ivy Carter.
Yours in gossip,
Lainey
