Thursday, July 12, 2007
On-point lesbadar
I received an e-mail from El Cyd confirming what was established here on this very blog long ago:
From: El Cyd (elcyd@idontrememberwheresheworks.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: don't you think
you deserve a "you hear it first exclusive"?
http://news.aol.com/the-cooler-blog/2007/07/11/lindsay-lohan-and-samantha-ronson/
* GirlGoneLeBron: Lindsay Lohan's MySpace friends sold her out.
* GirlGoneGrady: Yeah, did they have anything good?
* GirlGoneLeBron: Only what looks to be love letters from Linds to Samantha Ronson, her DJ friend.
* GirlGoneGrady: Oh! What'd they say?
* GirlGoneLeBron: Lindsay allegedly wrote "Babe, if I don't have you in my life then I should just go die. ... I want to marry you and have children with you."
* GirlGoneGrady: Scandalous!
Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do. Actually, LL Cool Jew does, for being so astute as to spot Lindsay Lohan's Smith College hat and interpret that as evidence that Lohan was diving on Dawn of the Dead Ronson:
Man, Lindsay doesn't just like them butchy, she likes them UGLY as hell. Samantha Ronson looks like what would happen if you bred a George A. Romero zombie with that dude from A Clockwork Orange. No wonder Lohan was rocking the Smith hat...there's so much busted pussy running around there that it would probably be like her ugly dyke equivalent of the Playboy Mansion. Why anyone not under the influence of every mind-altering drug on the planet would want to procreate with that dark-circled sack of bones is a complete mystery to me. I am merely relieved that science has not yet figured out how to make two women (or in this case, one woman and one skeleton) breed.
I have to say that those sentiments Lohan expressed on her MySpace page are about as teen lesbionic as it gets, along with her signing them "Lindsay Ronson." I myself wrote shit like that when I was fifteen and fingerbanging the goalkeeper of our high school girls soccer team. Just for fun, I dug out a poem I wrote about her for comparative purposes. This bullshit was longer than the damn "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and it was all about my Catholic guilt about being a teenage dyke. Here's a few stanzas from this masterpiece, which I titled "Forbidden":
Faded curtains
Swept back so we can gaze together
Out the bright picture window and
Watch the light play pretty shapes on
Flattened stomachs, bare golden backs,
Red-spotted breasts and long yellow hair.
God, she's so pretty.
VOMIT! I won't torture you (or embarrass myself further) by sharing the whole thing, because it's an appalling piece of hokey, flowery, adjective-happy sap, but I think I made my point. I was writing a bunch of lovesick nonsense about some stank chick who treated me like dirt, had no tits, and looked like a man. She was most certainly NOT "pretty" as I described in my poem. That's her on the far right (looking MUCH femmier than she usually does):
I was always writing her letters about how we were soul mates and without her life's not worth living and blah blah blah, just like Lindsay. Dumb bitches do not write melodramatic shit like that unless they are bumping uglies with the subject of it. The result of this was that she dumped me anyway, after an extended roller coaster of her implying that I was the most useless piece of trash on the planet because I was academically more gifted than her. Seriously, her entire reason for dating me was an attempt to overcompensate for the fact that she was a dumb jock in a family of intellectuals, and when she realized that my intelligence wasn't catching, she made fun of me for loving her, mocked my parents' jobs and taste in home decor, told everyone that I was crazy (which in fairness wasn't entirely untrue), and discarded my ass like a used condom. Over-the-top sentiments about one's asshole girlfriend never yield a happy ending.
Since I have some personal experience in these matters, I have to give Lindsay a piece of advice: do not just go die because of your overwrought emotions about that gaunt undead lesbo. Give up the "Lindsay Ronson" nonsense and find yourself a hotter snatch to lick, preferably one who won't leave her coke stash in your car for the cops to find and who won't tip off the paparazzi that you're drunk and puking in a gas station parking lot the day after your arrest. Take it from me, it will save you a world of hurt, humiliation, and longing, lovelorn MySpace message-writing.
From: El Cyd (elcyd@idontrememberwheresheworks.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: don't you think
you deserve a "you hear it first exclusive"?
http://news.aol.com/the-cooler-blog/2007/07/11/lindsay-lohan-and-samantha-ronson/
* GirlGoneLeBron: Lindsay Lohan's MySpace friends sold her out.
* GirlGoneGrady: Yeah, did they have anything good?
* GirlGoneLeBron: Only what looks to be love letters from Linds to Samantha Ronson, her DJ friend.
* GirlGoneGrady: Oh! What'd they say?
* GirlGoneLeBron: Lindsay allegedly wrote "Babe, if I don't have you in my life then I should just go die. ... I want to marry you and have children with you."
* GirlGoneGrady: Scandalous!
Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do. Actually, LL Cool Jew does, for being so astute as to spot Lindsay Lohan's Smith College hat and interpret that as evidence that Lohan was diving on Dawn of the Dead Ronson:
I have to say that those sentiments Lohan expressed on her MySpace page are about as teen lesbionic as it gets, along with her signing them "Lindsay Ronson." I myself wrote shit like that when I was fifteen and fingerbanging the goalkeeper of our high school girls soccer team. Just for fun, I dug out a poem I wrote about her for comparative purposes. This bullshit was longer than the damn "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and it was all about my Catholic guilt about being a teenage dyke. Here's a few stanzas from this masterpiece, which I titled "Forbidden":
Faded curtains
Swept back so we can gaze together
Out the bright picture window and
Watch the light play pretty shapes on
Flattened stomachs, bare golden backs,
Red-spotted breasts and long yellow hair.
God, she's so pretty.
VOMIT! I won't torture you (or embarrass myself further) by sharing the whole thing, because it's an appalling piece of hokey, flowery, adjective-happy sap, but I think I made my point. I was writing a bunch of lovesick nonsense about some stank chick who treated me like dirt, had no tits, and looked like a man. She was most certainly NOT "pretty" as I described in my poem. That's her on the far right (looking MUCH femmier than she usually does):
Since I have some personal experience in these matters, I have to give Lindsay a piece of advice: do not just go die because of your overwrought emotions about that gaunt undead lesbo. Give up the "Lindsay Ronson" nonsense and find yourself a hotter snatch to lick, preferably one who won't leave her coke stash in your car for the cops to find and who won't tip off the paparazzi that you're drunk and puking in a gas station parking lot the day after your arrest. Take it from me, it will save you a world of hurt, humiliation, and longing, lovelorn MySpace message-writing.
Labels: celebrities, comeuppance, Dumb Smith bitches, lezbollah, sluts
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