And it's not for over-sharing Kelly Rutherford, that's for damned sure. Or her nipples. Or her continuing to breastfeed her two-year-old son Hermes while pregnant with her next child.
Of course, if you're blogging about it, all bets are off.
And just so you know, I didn't make fun of the nursing. I made fun of Rutherford for naming her son Hermes. Actually, when I realized that Kelly Rutherford had named her son after the Greek god of scarves, it completely distracted me from her breasts. Thank goodness.
Because you know how at Lamaze class they ask you to envision a comforting place, and everyone comes up with a tropical beach? Yeah, well I don't do beaches so much, so I think about the Hermes flagship store in Paris.
So anyway, Hermes? This is the sugarplum I'll be envisioning on Christmas Eve. The black crocodile Birkin with pave diamond trim.
Yes, it's way over-the-top. One might even call it vulgar. In fact, I do. But it's still just so damned amazing.
So, Santa Baby? Please put this $140,000 Birkin under my $125 Target tree. (If I ever manage to drag it up from the basement and decorate it, that is.)
Because when I think about this purse?
my nipples crinkle up like walnuts.