“Women” named Brie do not fart. They do not get fat (mainly because they can afford to have their children surgically removed from them). They do not marry “men” who don’t have names like Brad, Derek or Kent. And yes, they will occasionally indulge in brie cheese with the poor choice of pairing it with something like white zinfandel because they are East Coast white “girls” or California “free spirits” who simply don’t know any better. And of course no one is going to tell them what might be better because they are too “pretty” to be told such things and even if someone did tell them, it’s not as though a Brie’s microscopic brain would be ready to receive such information the way her pinhole-sized pussy seems to so effortlessly receive rich (therefore small) dick.
“Women” named Brie go to college as a matter of course, knowing full well that they will have something better to fall back on before even graduating, like marriage or a modeling career. Or simply being Daddy’s little socialite. There is simultaneously no limit to what a Brie can achieve and nothing but limits to her potential in life. She is another waste of air, contributing little to society other than prosaic blonde beauty and a stick figure physique. But of course it’s not like she doesn’t work for that unformed thinness; Brie can spend as much as three hours a day exerting herself with the mouth and hand movements that require the two types of standard-issue penis-oriented jobs. Because she knows that Bries are a dime a dozen in her world, and she should at least suck for her diamonds (the wealthy “woman’s” version of singing for one’s supper).