It’s not even a terrible rap song, but you’d think after spending, like, three months having her entire bisexual, death-threatening, watching-Natalie-fuck-an-NFL-player life filmed, she’d look a little less like a giant pussy on camera. And it’s weird how she’s trying to pantomime all the words, like the dance to “Like a Virgin” my friends and I choreographed in sixth grade. Or, you know, this.
Still, I love you, Flo. Just not as much as I love Natalie. Who’s the real psychopath in the house. (Well, either psychopath or raging coke addict. I can’t always say. I leave the BGC recapping to the capable hands of Saranden and Sierra, even though some weeks I really, really, really wish I could do it.)