(function() { (function(){function c(a){this.t={};this.tick=function(a,c,b){var d=void 0!=b?b:(new Date).getTime();this.t[a]=[d,c];if(void 0==b)try{window.console.timeStamp("CSI/"+a)}catch(l){}};this.tick("start",null,a)}var a;if(window.performance)var e=(a=window.performance.timing)&&a.responseStart;var h=0=b&&(window.jstiming.srt=e-b)}if(a){var d=window.jstiming.load;0=b&&(d.tick("_wtsrt",void 0,b),d.tick("wtsrt_","_wtsrt", e),d.tick("tbsd_","wtsrt_"))}try{a=null,window.chrome&&window.chrome.csi&&(a=Math.floor(window.chrome.csi().pageT),d&&0=c&&window.jstiming.load.tick("aft")};var f=!1;function g(){f||(f=!0,window.jstiming.load.tick("firstScrollTime"))}window.addEventListener?window.addEventListener("scroll",g,!1):window.attachEvent("onscroll",g); })();

Friday, December 01, 2006

Guilty Pleasures

I have a confession to make here. I like to read tabloid articles, especially if they have to do with Christina, Britney, Paris, or Lindsay. They're all hot-as-hell, yes, but some other element is also present. I can’t place my finger on it, maybe it’s like how you can’t help but slow down to gawk at a multi-car fatality accident on the freeway. It might be because they are all famous trashy bimbos, I have no idea.

For the other men out there, I would like you to picture these things the next time you are alone, and reach for the skin lotion and seaman-encrusted “happy sock” from under the bed, fantasizing about jamming to one of these “ladies”:

Britney: When you create a scenario that you wack-a-mole to Brit, remind yourself of the 2 babies she’s pushed out now. To quote Borat, “…like sleeve of wizard.” You’re into that? OK, than think about this… A tattoo over her area that reads… “K-Fed was here!” Do you really want your cock to be in the same place as Kevin Federline’s?

Lindsay: Eh… well unless you like hydrochloric acid mixed with vodka and various other partially digested stomach contents vomited in a yellowish-brown slurry on your penis, or like trying to seduce sweaty, comatose 20-year-olds, who have ammonia-scented urine dribbling down their pantyhose… yeah you get the picture now. Almost enough to turn you gay. Almost.

Paris: She ignites my blood and makes my skin crawl at the same time… not unlike Gonorrhea. Can you imagine having a conversation with her? You would either be drooling so much that you could only make cave-man like grunts, or be prepared to give yourself a 9mm brain hemorrhage, or both. Syphilis can cause dementia, after all. Gonna knock it out anyway? Take her word for it… those red bumps down there is just razor burn…

Christina: When a pop star comes along that makes Madonna look like a conservative, you know the apocalypse is neigh. They both have one thing in common that I happen respect… no BS. Madonna is a raging nympho, so she published a book ingeniously titled Sex. Christina is a $10 gutter-tramp, so she films Dirty. This type of honesty is very refreshing to me. It’s a shame that our civilization has become so screwed up that I consider Madonna and Christina more honorable than most of the people I meet.

-Tommy Masterson


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home