How the fuck do you get this on? This has seriously got to hurt. And once it's up your ass, you can't even see the fucking hearts anymore. Just imagine trying to walk with this trudging up your crack. I'm sorry, but being sexy shouldn't have to go this far. And I doubt any dumb shit bitch who wears this will even get lucky tonight. She'll just come up with coal panties instead of diamond panties, if you know what I mean.
I saw it in the Victoria's Secret (surprise surprise, where the fuck do you think it came from?) catalog that came in the mail today. I may have looked like a total crazy jackass, but once I saw it, I started cracking up.
So tensions have been rising lately. My folks' party is tomorrow, and oh man, just think of all the food. And my future flabs. My mom is making her famous pasta and I don't think the little kiddie fucks will have their fair share. Well, too fucking bad. Because Christina is around. I'm glad that Jeannie is coming, so I won't be bored as fuck all night cramped up in my room waiting for someone to be online. Which no one will be anyway, due to fucking until that ball drops at Times Square. Or rather not, who the hell would stop having sex just to watch a bomb that doesn't explode drop 10 MPH down a 30 ft pole?
Times Square is so fucking overrated. Every year I watch it drop. No explosion. No fireworks. No surprise chippendales. It's fucking boring, and the only thing that explodes is a chick's bra from surprise shock and joy. I'm a chick, I don't want to see another chick's jugs pop out. The only goddamn thing that lights up is the phony little shit sign that says what year it has just turned. Big fucking deal. How the hell is this the most popular attraction in the whole goddamn dumbshitted world? Come on, Disney World kicks way more ass than Times Square. Fireworks, Mickey Mouse and Mickey Mouse shaped nachos, asshole. No cold weather. No naked men flapping their painted beer bellies in your face, leaving sweat and semen on your perfect makeup - turning your sexy red lipstick into a pasty pale chapstick.
I might have mentioned chippendales, but actually I think they look fucking scary and are way too beefy for me. Their boobs are bigger than mine. That's really, utterly, sad. I could have just said, "No surprise italian male supermodels," but that's too long. So I just leave it off for a pointless paragraph of its own right after the aforementioned word's own paragraph.
It is extremely hard to resist reading The Dirt. Just flipping through the pages makes me go crazy. It's like me standing five feet in front of Izzy Stradlin. Can't resist to fuck. But in this case with this book, I can't resist to read. But I'm proud of myself for not reading any of it yet, besides the outside cover that is nothing but conceited bullshit that newspaper reviews have said about it. It is also extremely hard to finish the other two books that must be read before getting to The Dirt. If someone paid me, then I would probably hide the book away from myself. Also known as hiding it away only to lose it, and never finding it again.
Christina N. @ 5:19 PM
