Aging actress Emily Blunt covers the February issue of Vanity Fair, and keeping with the tradition of a magazine read exclusively by millionaire entertainment retirees doing coke in their Palm Springs hot tubs, as well as tragic nobodies who covet that glamorous lifestyle, sounds like a delusional asshole. Blunt is apparently confident enough to believe that she’s made it to the top – at least to an altitude at which she longer needs to pander to the sludge monster commoners wanting a piece of her amazingness. Below is what Blunt claims to tell fans wanting to take selfies with her. A blurb she claims to have gotten from Frances McDormand. Because of all those fans wanting to get their pictures taken with Frances McDormand:
You know what? I’ve actually retired from [selfies]. But I would like to shake your hand and meet you.
Hasn’t she ever heard “pics or it didn’t happen?” No one wants to actually talk to you dummy. Blunt, who is hardcore pimping her Mary Poppins remake, continues about social media:
I think a movie lives or dies on word of mouth and the trailer. I have seen people do endless social-media campaigns and the movie tanks, so I don’t see a correlation. I strongly believe that my job is to persuade you that I am playing somebody else, so exposing too much personally is just something I can’t get on board with.
And yet you’re posing as yourself for a picture on the cover of a popular magazine. Finally here’s Blunt using the word “besotted” like she didn’t just see it in her word of the day desk calendar:
[My daughter] is besotted with [the original Mary Poppins] to the point where I have a deep dread she is simply going to reject my version and be, like, ‘You are not Mary Poppins,’ because she is so in love with Julie Andrews and she knows every single song.
She sounds terrible too. Here’s Emily not “exposing too much” in a tit-forward dress.
Photo Credit: Vanity Fair, Mr. Skin