Christina and her boyfriend, Matthew Rutler, and a friend or a bodyguard or something I’m assuming, were photographed leaving a club earlier this weekend. Positive props, right off the bat?: I’ve gotta say, that shade of pink lipstick really flatters her boy’s complexion. It goes well with his sweaty, already-hungover pallor. Flattering. And impressive. I mean, he’s wearing more of her lipstick than she is, brava.
Incidentally, can you just imagine these two lovebirds all curled up in a dark corner of a seedy club, stumpy limbs entwined and sucking face while intermittently whispering sweet nothings into one another’s ear? I’d imagine it’d go something like this:
Matt: Oh, gurrrl, the way you nibble my lower lip.
Christina: Mmm BEEF. CHICKEN. RIBS.
Matt: I really think we’ve got something real, don’t you? I mean, I know a lot of our time is spent in the dark and under the influence of a lot of fucking booze, but I really think you just GET ME.
(More audible groaning and lip-smacking.)
Christina: NOM NOM NOM. … I’m sorry, you’re getting me what? Did you say ribs, p’raps? BABY BACK RIBS?