Kelly, Kelly, Kelly. Listen, hon, you know I love you. Anytime “Miss Independent” or “Since U Been Gone” comes on in the car, I sing along at top volume until the people I pull up next to at stop lights start looking at me funny. I love your openness and assertiveness. I love that you seem like a real person. And I really love that you believe a Diet Red Bull and pack of cigarettes does not constitute dinner. But these pants, dear God, these pants. Seriously, what is up with all the unfortunate bottom half choices of late? Why are these pants so wrong, you ask? Let us count the ways. First, there is an eagle on your crotch. If that doesn’t scream out for some kind of “let the eagle soar” pun, then nothing does. Secondly, they seem to badly fit to your body type. This means they emphasize all the wrong areas and sag off of the right ones. And thirdly, they look like they’re pinching the heck out of you in some very private places. I mean, just look at the way they’re making you jump around. 
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