Clemmons Welcome to the life and times of my favorite enemy. Jaclin Wells.
The woman almost single-handedly responsible for the term obnoxiously perky being added to the American language. Shouldn’t it be completely illegal for any gal to smile and wave and look so gosh darn happy when she’s in her eleventh hour of standing and walking in five-inch stiletto heels—and having her waist made virtually nonexistent by a mercilessly tight corset that’s reinforced by steel boning?
GIVE IT A REST BABE!
The world won’t come to an end just because you’re seen frowning on the odd occasion.
I hate J.W. with a passion…despise the little piece of eye candy with every fiber of my being. She’s so fake…so plastic…so carefully hidden under an oil slick of industrial grade eyeliner and forty-one other types of makeup. The girl is just so artificially happy with a smile that could rival the northern lights. I’m almost astounded that the little bitch hasn’t already been offered her own sixty-minute show on the Saturday afternoon slate of the House & Kitchen Network.
