How the hell did this turbo slut ever get her own television
show?!? I mean, have you watched this crap carnival? I have, and while I concede that MTV caters to the lowest form
of thug-wannabe viewer, this is beneath even them.
First of all, you've got Anna waddling her fifty foot ass
around some posh Beverly Hills condo with no apparent agenda other than to have people tune in and watch her excuse for a
life. She's drugged up the ENTIRE TIME; the only moments of sobriety coming when she gives her periodic commentaries...
and even THEN she's dumber than four monkeys fucking a football.
I mean, REALLY!!! I didn't find her all that attractive
when she was skinny, her vacant expression and "I'm a slut" demeanor negating the power of the only real attribute
she possesses... her breasts. I saw 'em in Playboy, and while I would probably push 'em together and make a Mike
Sandwich, I would still kick her out of bed once my pearl necklace had graced her multiple chins.
THIS WOMAN IS NOT INTERESTING!!! And her non-witty use
of profanity serves only to drive home the fact that she's a trailer park redneck. Added to this, she surrounds herself
with the most fucked up people imaginable, which I will describe here for those who haven't seen the show:
1. Her Son: Tell me THIS
kid isn't gonna be fucked up. Apparently having gleaned the lion's share of his mother's chromosomes, he sits around
playing X-box all day while Anna stumbles around in the background talking about masturbation.
Anna: "Honey? You gonna be okay by yourself for
a little while? Mommy's gotta diddle."
Kid: "Ewwwww! Jesus, Mom! I don't wanna hear about
that!"
Anna: "But... but... it's true! Mommy's hasn't
had sex in over a year, and so-"
Kid: "Mom, PLEASE! Just stop."
Anna: "Don't cha wanna hear about Mommy's new purple
dildo with heat powered vibration capabilitie-"
Kid: "GOD NO!!! Please go away, Mom!"
A functional relationship in the making. I actually
heard this kid tell the cameras one time that he was only putting up with this shit because his "Mom" was gonna make a lot
of money.
On second thought, I like that kid...
2. Her Lawyer: So, was
this guy genetically engineered without testicles or what? He's obviously in love with Anna, but that can't possibly
excuse the amount of degradation this pussy endures. The other night, he had a fight with Anna, and when she wouldn't
let him into her hotel room, he slept on the floor in the hall outside her door.
WHAT?!? If that was me, I would've kicked that
door in and laid the smack down.
Anna: "Damn it Mike! I told you to leave
me alon-" * SLAP!!! *
Mike: "YOU DON'T TELL ME SHIT, HOOKER!!! I'M
YOUR LAWYER, AND I'M LEGALLY ADVISING YOU TO SHUT YOUR FUCKING PENIS HOLSTER!!!"
Anna: (gasping in shock) "You... you... you hit me!"
Mike: "No I didn't. If I'da hit ya, you'd be as limp
as my dick after seeing you naked! Now GIMME' THOSE CORN CHIPS AND GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!!!"
(Note: Hitting women is not cool, so don't do it. However,
hitting turbo sluts is a moral imperative, so feel free to throw 'em a beating at your convenience. Branding with a
cattle prod is also acceptable.)
3. Her Assistant: I looked up
the word Super Lesbian in the New Webster's Dictionary the other day, and this dike's picture was right above
the definition.
Super Lesbian: (pronounced soo'
pur less-bee-ann). An archetype variation of the common female homosexual usually seen in pornographic film.
Characterized by portly body proportions and facial features that have a "curling" effect on wall paper, these deceptive predators
hunt alone or in packs, often choosing an unattainable prey to latch onto and admire from afar. See also: Cooch
Parasite, Mega Butch, and/or, Impotence Catalyst.
4. Her Interior Designer: Now, this punk takes
the cake, because he's one of those flaming gay guys that push male stool just so he can talk with a lisp and say words
like, "Faaaaabulous!" He struts around Anna's condo making catty remarks about everyone and everything for no other
reason than he wants to be a bitch behind the politically correct safety of the "gay" card.
Guess what, Susie. I don't play cards, so I'd be stomping
you a new orifice the first time you mouthed off.
Pseudo Fag: (giggling smugly) "Oh, Michael... Sweet
Michael... PLEASE tell me you got dressed in the dark this morning, 'cause I KNOW you didn't wear that belt
with those shoes!"
Mike: (looking myself over) "What? You don't like my
shoes? Well, maybe you should take a closer look." * WA POW!!! *
Spinning Dragon Kick to the skull.
After Pseudo Fag went down, I'd say, "Here, hold this anvil.",
before dropping said blacksmithing tool right on his chest. I would then proceed to urinate on his face once I was sure
he was unconscious, (after all, I wouldn't want him looking up and making fun of my small penis).
Yep, Anna Nicole has surrounded herself with a truly fucked
up entourage, but I could actually tolerate it if it weren't for her exploits as of late. After supposedly losing seven
hundred and ninety six pounds withOUT a personal trainer, ( * cough * "BULLSHIT!!!" * cough * ), Anna has since become the
spokesperson for the diet pill, Trimspa.
In every commercial for this farcical weight loss program,
we get to watch the "new" Anna exit a limousine and sashay out onto the red carpet with her hands in the air, squealing, "I'm
back!"
Lemme' tall ya something, Meat, you ain't back from shit!
You weren't "there" in the first place, and you'll never escape the multiple seasons of television hell in which America
tuned in to watch you stumble around touching yourself and sullying the good name of prostitute.
Anna Nicole, I hate you. (Unless you want me to be on
your show, in which case, CALL ME!!!)
