Roland Is Judging You: Julia Stiles

Ciao, darlings. It is I, Roland. I have awoken once more to find myself with an empty home (save for that insufferable mange of a dog, who has been eyeing a lone shoe on the floor for ten minutes now. Do it, puppy, have your way with the shoe, I beg of you. Take the shoe, I promise you, you won't be turned out into the wild. She doesn't like that shoe anyway. Take it. TAKE IT!)

Ahem. Ahh, my pets, how I have missed you. I have been neglected, dears, neglected in the harshest of manners. Shark Week. Pfft. I care not for Shark Week, humans. Peel your eyes away from Megaladon and rub my chin, gods damn you! Thank the woodland goddess Shark Week comes but once a year, darlings, or your dearest Roland here would go unfed and unkempt while the lady stared endlessly at her television with ne'er but her Starbucks to distract her now and again. I love her, but painfully so, I must confess. It is the same tiger shark special as last year and the year before, my sweet gin-laden girl. Cuddle your cat, lest ye be bitten on the earlobe while sleeping. You are correct, dear gal, you did only have two holes in your ears when you dozed the eve before last. Twas your petite Rolie that took care of the additional punctures. My teeth are for more than show, bella.

Now, to the matter at hand:



Oh goodness, dear. What have you off and done? Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a paisley printed silk cowl necked mess accompanied by black patterned (snake print?! Does the zoom really reveal that these are SNAKE PRINT?!) ill fitting leather strappy sandles? Child, are you well? Were you not aware that you would be off to a special screening of your very own movie until mere moments before you were photographed, and were therefore left with no option but to steal the shoes of a smaller friend and then hijack a truck going past which just happened to be carrying a load of Alexander McQueen dresses? It's East Hampton, so I reckon trucks do drive on past carrying ne'er but designer gowns, but if you were going to steal a dress perhaps you could have stolen one that flattered your form or at least made you resemble even slightly the female figure one expects to see shadowed beneath a sheath such as this, no? Alexander McQueen made some stunning gowns for Spring/Summer '07. Your options were limitless within your designer of choice. Where did you FIND this? And while I understand that you were clearly caught by surprise, was there nothing more you could do with your hair, aside from pulling it back using it's own grease as a molding putty? My sweet Julia, you are not photographed often, you know. When these rare moments arrive, you must seize them and possibly even smile. By no means should you turn and stare dully into the lens before turning and staring dully again into the lens from the front again.

Dear girl, did the photog insult you? Did you attempt to mend the hem of this dress all by yourself? Have you heard not of pedicures? Are you angry that you're being photographed on a cement slab bedecked with long since forgotten Bubble Yum? Whatever is ailing you, child, you must turn your lips upward into what is known as a smile. You must retain the services of a stylist, or if you are not willing to do so, then you must at the very least start shopping for photographed events more than ten minutes before they are scheduled to start. I applaud you for covering your lady bits as a good girl should, but I ask that in the future you cover them in something that doesn't casually say "meh, whatever...I'm dressed, right?" Poppet, I have so little time to peruse the expanse of the interworld at peace. Please do not interrupt it with such crimes against my gorgeous bedroom eyes again.