At Home and Abroad - The Broad Likes to Roam

Once again, the most repulsive of all crown princesses was sent out to represent her country, and once more, she only represented herself. From wearing a completely over the top and unnecessary mine protection vest - does anyone HONESTLY think she was in any danger at all? - to leaning away from a child and his caretaker, to showing off her new fugly bowling shoes and scarves and pretending to have a thoughtful moment, Mary was as revolting and self-centered in this trip as she has been in every other moment of her pathetic life.

Even her much ballyhooed interview with the landmine people was obviously prepped by her PR people, there is no way this vapid slag could articulate those intelligent questions on her own.


Ok, seriously, I was babysitting this adorable 3-year-old girl last Saturday and there's some show on her kiddie TV channel where a character says "WHAT IN THE NAME OF POTATOES!?"

Just the thought that came to my mind when I saw The Freaky One decked out in all her 80s perm gloriousness. Why not go all the way and wear your ponytail on the side of your head, Mary? It would be just as hideous!

Mary Dearest

I have complained before about Mary's lack of caring for her children. She can't handle them, she doesn't know what to do when they cry, she doesn't comfort them, etc. But what happened a couple of days ago takes the cake.

Mary, the bogan Princess who shows off her Prada boots and Chanel bags every chance she gets, dresses her utter disappointment of a daughter in shoes that have holes in them. You goddamn filthy bitch, Mary. How fucking dare you?

Why is it? Because IsNOTabella is ugly? Because she's royal? Because she's got fucked up feet and Fred's face?


ONE can only imagine how poor IsNOTabella gets treated at home. Do you think she gets Christian's leftovers for food? DO you think she gets her Bogan brand Huggies diaper changed right away or is she left to stew in her own filth until the nanny notices? Sure, she gets a $700 mink vest, but isn't that more for YOUR glory, Mary? What the hell does the fugly one know? But your Eurotrash Danish friends get to know that you put that piece of shit on her. And now they know you make her wear shoes with holes on them.

But your new blue wedges look awesome, and I guess that's the point. The only way you can be more than your daughter is to make her wear rags and shitty shoes. Too bad your little plan isn't working out.

Proof that Mary reads this blog

Seems like someONE took my last paragraph to heart. You know, the one where I call her a whore. Because not only has Her Royal Trashiness appeared in a fucking DIAPER AD, but she nearly showed us her sweaty, hairy, naughty bits!


Now the whole outing to get diapers makes total sense. Her designer-casual outfit, the oversized "celebrity" sunglasses, and Mary being alone, to make sure Huggies got good shots of the "normal mum" without any of her ugly sisters or genetically-doomed nieces in tow.


As for her whorish getup, Mary should do as her betters have and weigh down the hems of her skirts. But not even the promise of seeing the royal cooch could get more than a few people at Mary's events, so her people had to pimp out kids from the local school to make for better shots.

And by the way, the outfit doesn't fit you, Mary, you might want to try a tailor next time. The saggy boob area, the cheap-looking seams, and the uh-oh skirt just make you look like the bag of trash you are.

Fuck you, Denmark!!

Gotta love the pearls of wisdom that have come out of Mary's mouth, like saying she'd like to enroll Christian in her old Sandy Bay infants school (she took him to paint there), saying she'd like Danish schools to have uniforms like Australian schools, and snapping at Anna from Billed Bladet and the rest of the Danish media to buzz off (the woman who discovered her and made her a celebrity), means that, unequivocally, Mary sees her life in Denmark as something she must ENDURE in order to collect all the benefits, perks, designer clothes, and lifestyle she really DESIRES. And from the looks of things, she barely ENDURES her children, too, using them as props in her neverending quest for publicity, making sure she is always carrying Christian because that way, their faces are at the same camera level. If she let Prince Pumpkinhead walk, then her face wouldn't be in the picture, right?

Her attitude in Beijing, partying happily with the Australian athletes and media while barely making appearances at Denmark's events, adds to this theory.


Mary is so ashamed of her daughter, that she ignores IsNOTabella until she's screaming bloody murder, and tries to cover up her lackluster looks by putting her in a butt-ugly $700 MINK VEST !!

Insecure bogan already passing on the stupid spending onto your daughter, now IsNOTabella is also going to learn that anything expensive must be good, even if it looks like you're wearing roadkill.


But no, couldn't possibly let go of the next heir to the throne to calm down your ugly daughter, could you? Many people have ugly kids, Mary, deal with it. Why don't you ask your sisters for advice? They have genetically doomed girls. Ask them if they despise them as much as you do IsNOTabella.


Your attitude is disgusting, Mary. Where the hell would you be if it weren't for Denmark and the slow Danes? And specifically, that near-imbecilic slow Dane you married? Would you be in Prada? Would you travel with 18 pieces of luggage ANYWHERE? Would you have Chanel handbags?

You are nothing but a disgusting whore, barely putting up with the awkward client while keeping your eyes on the wad of cash on the night table.

Fuck You, Frederik

I'm sorry, darlings, I don't care what spin the royal PR peeps or the sugar boards try to create for what happened here, what it boils down to is one out-of-control bitch Prada Princess, angry as shit over her hubby's partying, who did something so incredibly passive-aggressive that shrinks everywhere must be dying to get her into a counseling session.

Knowing that Frederik was arriving in Hobart - and don't give me any shit about Mary not knowing, because that's fucking bullshit, ok? - Mary ensured that she and everyone else would be out when Frederik arrived, leaving the Pathetic Crown Prince to knock on doors and make phone calls to find out when he could possibly be let in and reunite with his family.


Finally, Mary and gang return, and Frederik runs to greet his children. Mary does a meek kiss and hand-on-the-back thing, because she knows she's gone overboard and knows that there are photogs out there. She knows Frederik has been caught on photo and video, locked out of the house, but she can't well get out of the car and make a scene, so she makes kissy-kissy for the paps.

This is one of the more revolting stunts Mary has pulled, and my advice to Frederik is, sweetheart, you're still young enough to find yourself another woman, one who will treat both your children equally, and see you as more than a source of income.

Diapers and Prada, a.k.a. Mary in Hobart

In the first few days of this latest "private visit to Australia" by Her Royal Trashiness, we have been treated to the appearance of Holy Mother Mary going to the drugstore to buy diapers.

You've got to be kidding me, right?

Oh wait, that was AFTER Mary was photographed covering Prince Pumpkinhead's mouth as he screamed his head off at the airport, because his favorite nanny has been fired due to the fact that Christian prefers to Mummy Dearest.

The non-famewhorish thing to do would have been to ask one of the sisters to pick up a bunch of diapers, because, let's face it the ONE PACKAGE PER CHILD that Mary picked up sure ain't going to last them through the whole trip. So expect another camera-worthy trip to the drugstore.


Then we have the Country Heiress look for a simple trip to the playground. Holy fucking bogans! You'd think the bitch had just landed on the cover of Town and Country. Prada boots, vest and jacket over a pristine shirt. This sure ain't the kind of Lycra Paradise shit Mary Donaldson used to wear. And honeys, that's just the point.

Mary may not have another grand tour like her first one, where she was paraded around national monuments and decked out like the Queen Mother, but she is sure as hell going to do her best to present HER Perfect Princess persona. The persona that wears Prada boots to push her kids on a swing, the persona that travels with 18 pieces of luggage but dashes out to buy nappies. Oh, what a mum!!!

Oh, what a piece of shit famewhore bitch!

The Olympics of Self Promotion

8 years after that tragic Olympiad where famewhoring chubbette Mary Donaldson snared the imbecilic Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark, we are, once again, treated to photos of the Clown Prince Couple (love that, credit the fab RD posters) "reliving their amour" in an Olympic setting.

Yeah. What-EVAH!!!

The only Olympic thing about Fred and Mary being in Beijing is Mary's Olympic-Sized Need for Attention to the point that she has been ignoring the Danish contingent (not continent, sweeties, contingent, means the Danish team, k?) in favor of socializing with the only people who still care about Her Royal Whoriness - the Australians. You know, the people she quickly left behind as soon as it was clear Frederik was in the bag, the nationality she abandoned in a jiffy because it was more lucrative to be a Princess of Denmark? The only people who understand her when she talks because between her faux-English accent, her bad Danish, and her bad-native English, we just can't understand the words that are coming out of her mouth!!!


However, that doesn't stop us from enjoying ourselves at Mary's expense, beginning with the Olympic-Sized amounf of makeup Miss Perfect Skin wore to the sweltering opening ceremonies. You can see it here, melting off her sun-damaged, large-pored, overly madeup face.


The array of shit that has been Mary's wardrobe begins with this ludicrous print dress that resembles a sausage casing due to the unfortunate panel of ruching and the fact that Mary should have worn one size bigger.

Sorry, Mares, you are no longer the emaciated skeleton from the week before your wedding. Which is a good thing, but you are no longer "sample size" as Australian Vogue breathlessly declared. You must dress to the body you have now if you are to look semi-decent.


Another bad "trend" that Princess Loser wears probably because it's expensive, never mind that it does nothing for her Macho Macho Man figure was this black dress, better suited to a petite type like Letizia, not a lumberjack-wannabe like Mary and her tranny sister.


The only semi-decent ensemble was this navy blouse with white pants - gee, Mary, would it have killed you to wear the blouse in RED?? You know, Denmark's colors? Sheesh, do I have to do all the thinking here?? - which reminded me of the evening gown Mme. Bruni-Sarkozy wore on her spectacular visit to the UK.

Maybe that is what Mary is doing, copying someone with style. And frankly, considering she is such an ignorant slag who doesn't know quality unless it has a label on it, that's what she should do, copy someone with style. Because Mary, you are a soon-to-be-40-year-old woman who still dresses like she has no clue. Because you HAVE no clue, and that idiot "stylist" of yours doesn't have a clue, either, she just uses you to get HER name out there, is what I think, and everyone at the Palace laughs when you leave the house with your bra showing, or, quel horreur!, with your UNDERWEAR showing, your stupid whore.

Oh please, the book's not TOUGH ENOUGH!!!

Many of you have probably heard about 1015 Copenhagen K, the book that sent shockwaves through Denmark, and most importantly, through Mary's thin, bleached skin, and made her Invisaligned teeth chatter with rage.

Frankly, other than being surprised at some of the revelations regarding Alexandra, Countess of Frederiksborg, I can hardly call anything in this book shocking. That this stuff is not published in DK because of respect to the Crypt Keeper, her fat husband, Henrik, the near-imbecilic lazy ass Crown Prince, happy drunky Jokke, and the rest of the gang, is one thing, but come on. We kind of figured out LONG AGO that Frederik is fucked up in the head and can't talk in public without having a major meltdown. We know Margrethe isn't the warmest of mothers, we know Henrik is a drama queen, we know Jokke has bad teeth and we definitely know that Mary is a useless piece of designer-clad garbage.

What Trine has done is say what no one dares to say outside of a few message boards. What Trine has done is say what many say in whispers, and has long been rumored. And frankly, I think she didn't go further in order to keep her book marketable, because had she gone as far as she could have gone, Mary would be reaching for the pills and Freddy would be right behind Captain Jack Sparrow sailing away forever, and Danes would be overtaken by their undeserved loyalty to this bunch of asshats and would have completely rejected the book.


When was the last time Frederik looked THIS confident, secure, and proud? Not in the last few years, people, that's for sure. Too bad that Margrethe pretty much fucked over her sons by demanding foreign brides, because next to Miz Mary, Freddles ain't never gonna look as radiant as he did with Katja. He doesn't even have to look at her to project happiness.


Compare that with Mary desperately grabbing his hand in the balcony appearance when he turned 40. He starts laughing nervously, that stupid laugh that begs to be smacked off his face, while Mary grits her teeth and attempts to appear like a happy family, while ignoring her massively un-cute children.

We already knew that Ole Henriksen had been dropped like a hot potato once he blabbed about taking care of Mary's skin, even though yapping about her perfectly groomed eyebrows and her freshly shampooed hair - must have been the only time she washed her hair because it always looks oily - was about as sugary as you can get. How did we know? Because she dropped her friend Beatrice Tarnawski, who introduced her to Frederik. Mary is a cold, calculating, callow cow of a woman, and if Trine thinks she is sparing any thoughts to saving the fricking Danish Monarchy, she's delusional. Mary has only thoughts for herself, for posing the right way, for wearing a shitload of makeup and collecting Chanel handbags, for becoming the celebrity she always dreamed in her fat old Hobart days, when she posed with Sarah O'Hare and chased z-list fame as much as she could.

Trine is giving Mary way too much credit here. How on earth can Mary undo decades of damage done to Frederik if she doesn't give a shit about him, other than making sure he doesn't take the credit cards away. She is as shallow as dog spit and smells just as bad, given her aversion to antiperspirant. Besides, Trine, don't you know the first rule of becoming a happier person? No one can do it but yourself. People with far worse tribulations than coddled, pissy Frederik have made a happy, healthy life for themselves. If this lazy, useless, stammering 40-year-old man who will only be king because he emerged out of the right womb and has done NOTHING to earn any of his pretty little medals, lifestyle, salary, celebrity, or anything he enjoys, can't stop whining about mummy not giving him enough hugs and grow a fucking pair, no ex-chubbette, fake-accented bitch is going to do it for him.

Miss Independence

How fitting is it that my eyes land on these photos as I sit back after a wonderful 4th of July barbecue (you know, the kind Mary would throw after her princess baby girl's christening, except mine was fun) - looks like Miz Mary is becoming Independent! Well, not really, she is completely dependent on Margrethe's chilly good will, and on the Black Amex for any more Prada frocks, and on Frederik not getting sick of her, and on the Australian taxpayers for her future trips there, and . . . yikes. ANYHOO, here's the cougar as I saw her on Independence Day.


Yes, Mary, we all know Marie is younger. And cuter. And sweeter. And chic-er. And has a petite figure you will NEVER have, no matter how much money you throw away. And she's French. You're Australian. Well, you're both Danish now but still, she's Champagne, you're Fosters, and you ain't never gonna be Champagne, sistah! But to make googly eyes at Jokke and lean in a la Gabrielle Solis? The good thing is, Frederik prolly doesn't care. Or is that a bad thing?


Now, here is Mary, wearing Soren Jessen's jacket. Soren is a FOF (Friend of Fred) although this might be payback for the baroness. Was this the chap who had a baroness gf stolen by Freddy or viceversa or is that another Soren? Wonder where Our Mary left her array of cardigans and scarves. She's so fricking addicted to them you'd THINK she wouldn't need some man's jacket, wouldn't you? And gee, Mary, why the coy smile now? You usually can't wait to look at the cameras, why not this time?

How To Look Bad - on purpose

Imagine you are rich beyond measure. Price tags have ceased to be something you bother with, discounts are for the plebe, and sales are for the unwashed masses. You can pretty much wear what you want, when you want. Imagine there are designers, good ones, clamoring for you to wear their things. Imagine you can now wear Chanel, Prada, and Gucci, have diamonds dripping down your ears. Imagine you can now have any beauty treatment imaginable, your skin will be perfection, your eyes wrinkle free, your lips always ready to smile gently, almost humbly for all the good luck you've had.

Now imagine you are Princess Mary of Denmark.

Bitch just WANTS to look bad!

If you don't believe me, just check out these unlikely ensembles of distaste Bitch has put together just in the last week.


Today's outfit in London. This top is about as unflattering as it gets for Mary's build. Other than her formerly favorite Lycra/Spandex Starmakers tops, this lovely brown top is wasted on Mary's barely-there bosom, humongous shoulders, and generally butch build. The girly sleeves are a joke on her massive arms. Leave this one to the Letizias of the world, pet.


I have to say, it's really sad when even your own clothes stand up away from you. Just look at this poor jacket. It's practically ripping itself off Mary's back. This is what happens when One does not have proper tailoring done to One's clothes.


This is a huge amount of makeup for daytime. Even with photography, day shots are usually softer than nighttime and Mary should have planned accordingly. She has caked on an enormous amount of foundation but not powder, which means she looks sweaty and oily. She also has shimmery eyeshadow which is not good on someone with as many eye area wrinkles as Mary, but there you go. What do I know? I'm only a fashion and beauty expert. I would have slapped some Preparation H on those undereyes, first thing, although I am surprised by the fact she has not used botox yet, given the terrible state of her skin. A wax on her sideburns wuold have been good, too.


Speaking of sweaty, here we are treated to yet another instance of Mary showing off her pit stains. This is disgusting. This is basic grooming, and any idiot out there, let alone a fucking PRINCESS who is in public all the time, should know better than not be prepared. Shame on you, Mary, you useless slag.


Another designer gown, another mess. Here is Mary in an incredibly unflattering color, and a wrap she has no idea what to do with. Come to think of it, what the fuck IS that? It has a collar, but nothing else. Shit. Should have asked for something else, Mare. The puce plum color washes her out. The go-go dancer bun is aging, and she keeps fiddling with the wrap because she has no sense of herself and just plain how to BE.

So dear ones, here is just one week's worth of How to Ruin Couture, brought to you by Princess Mary, because if our gal can't ruin Prada, who can?

All those photoshoots for nuthin'

Because ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, Mary fangirls and detractors, the SECOND that Mary lets down her guard and doesn't position all her facial muscles properly for the cameras, the MOMENT she forgets that cameras capture ALL expressions, not just the ones she wants, this is what we end up with:



An incredibly unflattering snapshot of Our Mary looking much like her sister, the really ugly one. An expression that no amount of photoshop can save, and no amount of airbrushing could erase.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you The Real Mary.

Desperate Cougar

Let's face it, Mary is as much a "housewife" as I am a Mary fangirl, but lately she has been looking rather . . . desperate. Like one in a group of divorcees that go out to dinner to tell themselves life is good while they ogle the twentysomething waiter.


It began with Mary wearing this SEE THROUGH FUCHSIA blouse to an UNHCR meeting. I mean, really, the UNHCR?? Completely inappropriate but then again, it's Our Mary we're talking about, she is the Queen of Inappropriate.


The very next day came a too-short skirt in a desperately ugly print with bizarre black stripes all over the place. And topped with a rigid, formal black jacket. I don't know if this is Mary's way of saying she has a split personality but man, this outfit sucked!


This "casual" outfit didn't fool anyone. Want to see casual chic? Google photos of the new Princess Marie on her honeymoon. Casual, natural, and classy. Gee, maybe Mary could learn from Marie!!!
The next generation is already being groomed to dress badly and in ugly colors, as we see Chubbarella dressed just like Mor Dearest.


Here is the cougar in her natural habitat. Short, loud dress to insinuate she still has the goods, even if her husband barely notices. Strappy heels WITH AN ANKLET - can we possibly get trashier than that? And, to top it off, a musical number designated to make sure everyone's eyes are on her. At her husband's 40th birthday party. Because heaven forbid the attention not be on Mary.


Soon after, the Model Mother must make an appearance with her child, who still refuses to connect with her since he has already connected with Nanny Mette (burn!).
By the way, Mary, where the hell are your wedding and engagement rings?


The cougar in another typical outfit from Forever 21. If you don't know what Forever 21 is, it's a chain of stores that sell $5 tops, the latest trend, low quality stuff to last just for the season, for people who have a lot of clothes and don't know how to put them together.


Going to a fellow cougar's concert - Kylie Minogue - Mary wears another unflattering short dress with completely mismatched shoes, and a youthful (she hopes) ponytail to pull back all the wrinkles around the eyes. Maybe she should try the tiny braids Marlene Dietrich used to have done under her hair to pull back the skin. Very painful but effective.


Remember that episode in Sex and the City where the ladies tried on fake nipples to entice others? Yeah. Our Mary, sadly, lacks much in the bosom department nowadays, but she still has them nipples, by God! And she's going to show them off! Too bad the puke rose color does nothing for her and she has no clue how to use a shawl. Ask Marie, darling, the French are impossibly chic with their scarves.

Give me a D

But is it D for Drinking too much?

D for Drugs?

or

D for Divorce?

Because Frederik didn't use to look like this.

Or is it the knowledge that his wife is reviled as a gold-digger and useless lump who is only good for shopping and putting her size 9 feet up? The knowledge that his wife, his partner in life, has absolutely no relationship with his children can weigh on a man who realizes he has chosen poorly, who realizes that getting pressured into this big a decision should not have been allowed and that he should have grown a pair and not let himself be pulled around by a tanned fatty who seemed a "natural, normal girl" but has now become a robot with a stick up her ass.

Maybe it is the knowledge that his children do not begin to measure to other children their age, that the unwavering dull expression in their faces is due to the most oppressive presence of all, that of their dictatorial, domineering, perfectionist mother. A mother to whom weight is a sin. A mother who cannot seem to coax a smile out of her children. A mother who carries her children like Paris Hilton carries her dog. For show. For the cameras. A mother more worried about showing her best side than wiping off her children's chins.

The knowledge that he has chosen as poor a mother as his own mother was must be awful for Frederik. Margrethe was a cold mother and what has he chosen, the Ice Queen of all Ice Queens, the worth successor to Margrethe Who Could Not Relate to Children.

Too bad, Frederik, seems you've ruined the next generation already.

We're going to make it funky

in honor of Crown Prince Frederik the Sad's birthday with a retrospective of his last few years. You know, the ones since he married Mary the Blooddrinker, so we can see just how happy the chap has been since he met the succubus.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Lionel Richie.


Well, my friends, the time has come
To raise the roof and have some fun
Throw away the work to be done
Let the music play on
(play on, play on)
Everbody sing, everybody dance

Lose yourself in wild romance
We’re going to party
Karamu, fiesta, forever
Come on and sing along!
We’re going to party
Karamu, fiesta, forever
Come onand sing along!
We’re going to party
Karamu, fiesta, forever
Come on and sing along!

All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
People dancing all in the street
See the rhythm all in their feet
Life is good wild and sweet
Let the music play on
(play on, play on)

Feel it in your heart
And feel it in your soul
Let the music take control
We’re going to party
Liming, fiesta, forever
Come on and sing my song!
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)

Yeah, once you get started
You can’t sit down
Come join the fun
It’s a merry go round
Everyone’s dancing
Their troubles away
Come join our party
See how we play!
Oh, yes
We’re going to have a party!
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long!

Everyone you meet
They’re jamming in the street
All night long1
Yeah, I said, everyone you meet
They’re jamming in the street
All night long!
Yeah, I said, everyone you meet
They’re jamming in the street
All night long!
Feel good! feel good!




and to quote the Always Fab Ab Fab - "I see no point in celebrating the fact that he's lived so BLOODY LONG."

Here comes the bogan!

There she is! Isn't she lovely? Her radiant pale skin almost matching her pale bridal gown, the huge tiara . . . oh wait. The tiara, diamonds and rubies, doesn't go with an ice blue gown. (Not that it matters, Mary yanked it out of the vault as soon as she found out that Marie was getting a bigger (and historic) tiara than her own pitiful little wirework piece.) And oh, that's not the bride!!

That's just the Crown Princess of Denmark attempting to overshadow the bride, Marie Cavallier, as she marries into the royal family. Tsk, tsk, Mary, I know you are a Desperate Bogan and an attention whore, but come on!

Of course, Mary's pathetic attempts failed miserably as Marie proved to be the most radiant royal bride of recent history. Not only did she look happy and was kind to those around her, unlike Her Royal Bitchiness, but she chose a dress that suited her perfectly, suited her delicate frame, and was appropriate to the occasion. Had she not spent way too much time applying Le Self-Tanner, she would have been perfect, but the girl is human, non?

At least Mary didn't go with her first choice:

which she is probably saving for when Joachim and Marie christen their first child. After all, Mary will probably still not be godmother to any royal child, so she's got to get attention somehow! She sure did her best at this wedding, waving on the red carpet like her was her debutante ball, and shooting daggers at little Felix, innocently about to fall asleep right in front of her, probably hoping he would fall on his face and she would have one less "cute royal child" to compare to her own two blank-faced dumplings.

The Ice Queen in Iceland, Freddy Flirts, and STILL ANOTHER FAILED PHOTOSHOT!!!

Damn, Mary is so freaking out about Trine Villemann's book coming out in English - so that all the girls who hate her in Australia (and everywhere else) can finally read it - that she can't even sit properly!

I can imagine, though. While the book was only in Danish she could ignore it - not to mention she couldn't actually understand much of it, other than the words "Mary" and "Donaldson" and, oh yeah, "Frederik".


Just kidding. That was our Mare in Iceland, where later on she dressed in a set of curtains from her guest room and put on way too much makeup. We're talking caked on, girls, and this shapeless crap does absolutely nothing for her masculine shape. I don't know which idiot came up with this, Anja or Mary, but they deserve one between the eyes for this garbage.


And check out what Se og Hor has on their cover - Freddy getting awfully close to another lass. Hmmm. Happy 4th Anniversary, Mary, here's yer li'l husband plantin' one on another filly - yee haw!

And right as I am hitting my deadline, more photos are released for Freddy Pan's (the boy who will never grow up) 40th birthday, in which he is seen looking more pathetic than usual, having his nanny dressing him, and touching Mary in a very weird and completely asexual way.

This has been one wonderful week, y'all!