This is what I know about Natalie, who previously pissed a small group of television viewers off: She’s is a simpleton who harbors such a skewed, inflated sense of self worth that she made the Bad Girls Club unbearable. Think about that for a second. It’s like the God particle of trash TV.
In fact, I already know that I won’t be able to handle most of the Natalie segments; she’s that horrendous of a mammal. Not to mention a total famewhore who’s only on this show to get more attention.
She says she’s the “best, sexiest, hottest bride ever.” (Which she isn’t, isn’t, isn’t). And that her wedding is being held at a place that normal people can’t afford. And that she runs L.A. And that everybody knows who Natalie Nunn is. Which is funny, because not one of 20 people I asked today did know who whatever her name is is.
Think her bridesmaid Kristen is also a reality-TV famewhore but in her defense, she’s at least attractive.
Now, they’re doing some sort of body wrap. Per Kristen, who is seemingly borderline Mensan wielding such fancy words as “demaskatizing*,” this action is designed to help them “get our skinny on.” Which she doesn’t need. But that Natalie, who seems to think “the whole world will see” her get married, totes has to. OMG. (*She meant emasculating, methink).
Her “friend,” however, point out the moral failings of how Natalie holds herself and treats others. So, there’s that.
“Everybody gives me everything for free. Figure it out,” she says, deepening a nation’s hate for all she represents in an evolutionary sense.
Here’s everything you need to know about the fourth world country America has become: She has a manager, assistant and publicist despite not having a single discernible talent. And she bitches at them for only offering six doves for the wedding. How fucking dare they.
See, this is the end result of the vapidity spawned by that whole Kardashwhatever mess. It’s metastasized into a culture of L.A. CHUDs thinking they don’t need to offer society anything before they can bitch about their positive impact on the world. Real talk: It’s a sickening fucking place we’re in. Nay, that we’ve ALLOWED ourselves to get to.
Oh, Jacob, her 21-year-old victim, says he’s a professional football player. I watch a bunch of football. Have no idea who he is even after spending 20 seconds investigating. Well, good luck anyway, guy, but know this: You’re marrying (already married to) someone whose public devolution will leave others reveling in schadenfreude, myself included. There are bad people. There are horrible people. And then, there is Natalie Nunn.
This is what I know about Cristal so far. And since she commented on last week’s post, promising tonight’s episode would be pleasing to my Bridezilla-viewing eye, I’m pretty geeked up for it.
Starts off with her still beefing with the mother-in-law but has somewhat forgiven Corey for that whole cross-dressing house party jawn but for the dropping a hunge earmarked for the DJ on booze for said affair.
Corey drops the word balderdash into the mix, so that’s rad as fuck.
They’re last-minute marriage-license attaining, which drives Cristal to the point of tears and a wee bit beyond. Man, she got them crazy eyes goin’ again when she’s maintaining she might not be at the altar. Also, I think she’s drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade with a coozie shielding the label.
Anyway, she locks Corey out of the house and bathes in tears as she finishes up the bridesmaids’ bags.
“Oh hi, this is my wife. She pushes me and locks me out of the house,” explains Corey, after knocking on a door that looks like the front door to Smokey’s house in Friday. “I’m gonna be married to this for the rest of my life? And I only believe in getting married once, dude. It’s why it took us eight years to even do all this. I wanna be sure. Now I’m seeing who this person really is, I don’t even know if I like her.”
Pour me a drink and I’ll tell you some lies.
Just figured something out about these two, Cristal and Corey: They seem like the lead characters in an extended-version Sublime video. I’m rather certain if I went out to Clemente for a week — not that they’re from there, but they could be, right? — the partying we’d do would be of a notable variety.
It’s wedding day now, and Cristal’s getting painted up all makeup-gothy. Her wedding dress is black and white. (Remember the 20s theme, right?) The theater marquee reads “This Ain’t Your Mamma’s Wedding.” And, it co-stars a couple hot bridesmaids. And some random dude standing in as a priest (he has an online certification apparently).
Corey’s crying about sacrificing the chance to hang out with his boys. And about how he loves her so much. And other stuff. Look:
Oh, then he starts dryhumping her on the dance floor. Aw.