Entering the Jonah Hill chamber in the DiCaprio simulator.
Nice try, Internet, but I refuse to feel sorry for her.
“NOOO! I DON’T KNOW HOW SHARPIES WORK! FUUUUCK!”
“Ms Holmes! Ms Holmes! Sign my Joey Potter poster please!”
Look, I have to get back to my coffin before sunrise, so GET OUT OF MY WAY, MORTALS!!!
“Ooooh, I don’t speak broke-ass douchebag. Sorry. So sorry You brought a Catwoman doll for me to sign and everything? That’s so sweet. I’ll sign it but then I want you to head down to the street, stand right in the bus lane, and kill yourself, OK? Ok. Great.”
I wish I would’ve drowned!
I thought it was Sharon Osbourne.
“Miss Hathaway… Step over my head shot of you!”
“Miss Hathaway… Co-sign my home loan!”
“Miss Hathaway… Sign my birthday card!”
arrgh, I hate the parts of fame that don’t involve me in my chamber of solitude and millions of dollars being dropped off at my doorstep!
“Nahhh…I don’t give two shits about your autograph. I just want to squeeze your tits.”
I’m I the only one that sees Tom Cruise at 11 o’clock?
“JESUS after everything I’ve done to be unlikable and you dumb shits still want autographs?!”
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Anne Hathaway at LAX. (January 14, 2014) -Photo: Fame/Flynet, Getty, INFphoto, Pacific Coast News, Splash News, WENN