ジョシュ・ブローリンのインスタグラム(joshbrolin) - 9月11日 12時09分

On a porch, a large woman speaks in a rocking chair of a beige home, ice tea in hand, to her best friend sitting next to her, in the same type of chair, fanning her face from the heat, while drinking a Mexican coke: "Molly came back to town today. Visiting. She's been in Hollywood for most of the year and she showed up with a get up that nobody can get their heads around. I mean it's like she's trying to make a statement or something. It's all pink -- got a fur somethingruther on her head looks like it's going to come out and bite you straight on the face, pants ripped to shreds like that rabid hat darned jumped off her head and attacked the rest of her all pink bloodied and frothy with fringe. And all that was left was her dammed skivvies. Down to her floss of a thongy invisible nothing blatancy. It's a downright disgrace! She even painted her hair pink! Or it's some wig made outta damn cotton candy for all I can tell. What the hell? I mean, what the hell?!? Now, if she were my child I'd slap the Hollywood right outta her right here and now. Where you come from? Mars??? Lips all puckered out, like she some suckerfish baitin' on someone's hook. I mean, come on! I tell you, when I was a young girl I would dress a nice like red over my mouth and make sure my skirt was AT LEAST to my knees. And some boy at the weekend dance would ask me for a dance -- he would ASK! -- and I would demurely say yes and that was the begging of a great night. Molly be going crazy! It's the Instagram. That social talking and whatnot: all the sexy pictures. Everything's a playboy nowadays. You usually do that in your private. Maybe some role playin with your husband, IN PRIVATE. That happens in private: the fringe, the flossy undies, your special scent, all that stuff." #itsarevolution

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