Why, Hello There, Danny Moder
Yeah, yeah, I know I should be using my time to write a 1,000-word essay on how Lancome should really use these SANS PHOTOSHOP pictures of Julia Roberts for their next ad, but I'm too busy telling Danny Moder's body that I'm just a gay, standing in front of a hot piece, asking it to rub him. Never mind that Danny's stupid ass hat should be lost on a three-hour tour, dude is as ripped as my ear drums whenever Julia lets out one of her soul-sucking cackles. Dumping your knocked up wife for a multimillionaire movie star does a body good.
But then again, we'd all have a plate of muscle biscuits on our stomachs if we were always around Julia. Just thinking of her laugh is making my gut clench and my no-no slam shut like Richard Gere's jooree box.
Here's more of Julia, Danny and one of their kids on a beach in Hawaii yesterday. You can tell that Julia is one of those rich bohemian moms by the way she's helping her kid do some Robinson Crusoe shit by making a beach fort out of tree branches and $500 scarves from Barney's. If I forgot to bring a plastic umbrella to the beach, my abuelita would've handed me a magazine and threw me a look that says ".....and you better not cry when I have to rub your sunburn with an aloe vera leaf I'm going to steal from the neighbor's front yard."