Everything you need to know regarding the RU.TV music award, in particular, and regarding the rural disco of the Russian show business, in general, is concentrated in this collage.
Photo: KP
A rotten tooth of someone from the “Factory” and cheap guipure in the feathers of painted Glory – that’s what I associate Russian show business with today.
Singers earn more by mouth on every day of the city, selling gingerbread on state TV channels and other handouts from the budget.
But now – not regarding that, but regarding the fact that not only do they not really know how to sing, they also look like aunts dressed up for a wedding in a distant backwoods.
Photo: KP
The singer Maxim hung everything: cheeks, shoulders, head.
I look at her – and I want to cry: well, a purely rural graduate of a provincial technical school, who unsuccessfully lost her virginity in the morning. The dress hangs with a cheap curtain, and the tattoo on the shoulder, eyebrows, and makeup look no less cheap. Everything looks budget and doomed, including the posture and expression of the eater.
Maxim, pull yourself together already, which you still can’t figure out where to put: hung with whips and hang. Pity you.
Baranovskaya, have you run out of money for Botox? Why is everything so bad? The skin is rough. Have you planted potatoes in the sun for three days in a row? On thick wrists and on the neck there are some washed-out baubles. Make-up – collective farm, heavy. Yes, it is heavy, not evening.
Yul, did you do it yourself? And when? The day before yesterday?
In general, I look at all this rural disco on the run – and laugh out loud.
Especially for some reason when looking at Slava, who burst onto the shabby red carpet with a middle-aged dumpling forward.
I look at this dumpling and in my head – only one question: when these thick thighs, covered with cheap guipure, rub once morest each other, doesn’t it rub there? Slav, I hope you greased everything there before leaving the house?