shrimpjaw (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shrimpjaw) wrote,@ 2006-03-04 23:26:00 |
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A Gift From Our Beautifully Sculpted Hands To Your Insidious Faces
You lucky fucks. You lucky, lucky, lucky fucks.
Okay readers, you're not beautiful, right? No, of course you're not, don't be fucking stupid you hideous fucking slags. Jesus, have you even looked in a mirror lately? Please, don't even bother, it's not worth it. Plus, why would you want to cause the mirror that much pain? Don't take out your crag-faced anger on a mirror just because it shows you the truth.
Anway, let's face it readers; you ain't pretty, you'll never be pretty, you're incapable of seeming attractive even in your own dreams, ok?
Now, as we all know, to be young and famous in Hollywood, well, you pretty much gotta be pretty. You want to run with the 'in-crowd'? You better damn well look like Leto and be adept at banging anything that so much as...exists.
That description wasn't you, was it? No, you dumb, gangrenous, beastly fuck, obviously it wasn't. Well, it seems clear that you, the average, repulsive Shrimpjaw reader will never know what it's like to party with the hot stars and starlets. You'll never know what it's like to be out at Pure at 3am getting hit on by B-level Fox sitcom celebrities. That's right, Frankie Muniz will never try to grab your pudgy ass. Loser.
But fear not, Shrimpjawicus has arrived on his magical steed of generosity just for you. We're not going to bullshit, Shrimpjaw can pretty much get any woman we want, so this isn't really a problem for us, but for you, all for you troll-like readers, we recently asked Lindsay Lohan herself to photodocument a few nights in her life so that you might have this one, golden opportunity in your life to see what you will never have.
With no further ado, Shrimpjaw presents...
"Something You Can Never Have? Friends" - A Lohantastic Photo Essay
Okay. Uh...wowie. Alright. Look at how great Lohan's life is! GREAT! AWESOME! YOU'RE NOT THERE! YOU SAD BASTARD! LOOK! JUST LOOK! LOHAN! LOHAN AND...uh...uh....LOHAN AND FRIEND!
MAN, FUCK YOU! YEAH....yeah....alright. Shit, let's just be honest; this is the best Lohan could do at 1:30 in the morning? Shouldn't she be out giving Fez a hand job as they drive down Wilshire? Instead they're where? At Lohan's Aunt Barbara's house or something? This is the worst party house ever. Yep, nothing says 'young, dangerous, ready-to-fuck, Hollywood' like a wicker basket full of fire wood, next to a just-read Seventeen. Do you think Lohan and Darkhair just finished reading an article about Aaron Carter and started blushing? Yeah, I can see it now, "HE is TOO cute!", "OMG, I KNOW!" Great. Real fucking party animals, these two.
And, just hold up a second. What the fuck is going on in this picture? These two are so goddamn awkward looking. It's like you've just arrived in Amsterdam and you have tens of thousands of dollars to blow. So what do you do? Get high priced hookers, of course. So you check into your hotel and immediately get on the horn to an escort (aka BANG-OUT) service. The heavily-accented Dutch woman on the end tells you your girl will arrive at the hotel in an hour or so, so in the meantime you lounge around, watch a few minutes of Dutch TV (it's terrible) and then decide to take a shower. When you get out and walk back into your room, your pro is there with a duet, and they are both waiting for you on the floor, but they turn out to be, like, fourteen. They try to look seductive but the whole age difference (you're 49, you fucking flabby perv) sort of makes you nervous. The girls look uneasy and don't really seem to know what sexy is, they just sort of know what the gleamed off of Sean Paul music videos. So you sit there deciding what to do and in the end you just jerk off moistly into a paper bag while the girls watch television. Yeah, welcome to the Netherlands, you man-child. Way to lose your cool.
Yeah! This is more fucking like it! Hood-rat bitches, right? Awesome. Lohan is so ghetto-hard. Goddamn right, La-la-la-Lohan, throw your arms in the air, neeeegro! Give that middle finger saluuute! Shit, girl totally knows how to thug it out. Nothing says hard-ass-motherfucker like hanging out in a parking lot at the country club. These bitchez are about to go Charlie's Angels all up in the motherfucking polo grizzounds! Quick! How many BMW's are in this picture? Four? Five? No, it's cool though, they're rebellious and everything. I believe that one girl is trying to show us all how thick dat azz is, as well. Tremendous.
God...I'm really already hating Lohan's posse. In fact, Shrimpjaw bets that Lohan must be pretty sick of them as well. I mean, come on, there is no way that she's going to invite them to any Academy Awards after parties anytime soon. Darkhair Cockteasorson (Don't even try to deny it. Billy Prescott told us all about you) might be desireable in the eyes of Jim Mediocre, backup quarterback for the Hicktown Nobodies, but in Tinseltown she'd barely be worth a cursory groping by a C-list celeb (we're thinking Fred Savage). The less said about Little Miss Hagface on the left, the better. Really regretting those BFF bracelets now, aren't you Lo-Lo?
Oh, awesome, we're back at Aunt Barb's house. The party never stops. This is pretty normal though. Just five BFF's, their Seventeen mags, and of course, one huge bong. I'm sure that's not even Lohan's though, right? She's a responsible young starlet, she would never do drugs, right? She would definitely never admit in an interview with a major magazine that she loved jcocaine, correct?
This picture actually leaves one a little confused. Shrimpjaw's definitely getting mixed messages here. So, I mean, all the water bottles and a Diet, Caffeine-Free Coke...that's healthy living, yes? But, uh, the huge bong...hmmm. Also note all the cigarettes. So really, drugs are fine as long as they don't make you fat, right? Like, alcohol? Baaaad. Cocaine? Goooood. Pizzapills? Baaaad. Heroin? Goooood.
See, dieting is easy. No wonder all the Hollywood stars are so thin; eating right is as simple as your ABC's! On top of all this, you just know that Aunt Barbara is sitting in the other room, watching old taped episodes of "Murder, She Wrote" and silently giving off that unmistakable aroma of crushing loneliness and impending death. Every once in a while she'll venture in with a plate of stale Ritz crackers and cheese, or a bowl of ribbon candy. Old Barb will try and make some lighthearted joke about how the girls better not cause too much mischief. The girls will laugh uncomfortably until she is out of earshot, at which time they will ruthlessly deride her. Slumber parties are fun!
About damn time! Out somewhere! Yeah, they finally left fucking Barbara at home. That old slut ruins everything! Now it's just the five girls out on the town, ready to fuck every guy they see and play all the Sims 2 that they can.
Fuck.
Seriously, that's the Sims 2 on the table. Amid all the drinks (non-alcoholic I'm sure, remember the lesson we just learned? That's right, we don't want any Mischa Barton's around here), amid the shot glasses...the Sims fucking 2. Great. Jesus Christ, these girls are the shittest batch of partiers ever. Was the Sims 2 just so goddamn good that they had to bring it along? Do you even see a fucking computer around? NO, NO YOU FUCKING DON'T. Know why? Cause it's a fucking bar. You go to drink and make sexual mistakes, not to sit around discussing the merits of hanging the fucking clown painting. I bet you anything this is Darkhair's doing. Look at that bitch. "Lindsay, I don't think we've played enough Sims 2 today. We're TOTALLY taking it out with us! OMG! Can we even DO that? Like, for real? Oh my god, we're going to bring the Sims box and totally just, like, PUT it on the table! Tanya will flip! Holy shit! We're so goddamn funny! Haha, Parent Trap!" What a whore.
Hey, do you think if you hit Lohan in the face hard enough with that Sims 2 box, cocaine would come out of her ears?
So, 12 am and Lohan looks like she's had enough. Fucking lightweight. Who passes out at midnight?
Of course, passing out is understandable after talking about the Sims 2 for six hours. If this is the case, then go right ahead Dear Linz, pass out. Oh, and yes, thank you for giving that middle finger again. It was TOTALLY necessary and absolutely hi-larious. At a Shrimpjaw party, this would be the point where all nubile young models would begin annointing us with various exotic oils, followed directly by an orgy of such a size and ferocity that it will be visible from space. Take that, ISS astronerds. All the degrees and fancy medals in the world don't change the fact that we've been pleasuring your wives on a daily basis since last July. Hell, they're not even that good looking. Especially Irina, Christ, what's the Russian word for "botox"? Shrimpjaw is just trying to remind you of your place. Even though you may look down on the earth from a distance of 220 miles, never forget that Shrimpjaw is lightyears above you in every other conceivable way. Wait, what were we talking about? Oh, right, Lohan's boring life. Fuck, someone get these girls some drugs quick, before they bust out the sleeping bags and start comparing tampon brands.
"BEEEEE-OOOOOOOO! BEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I'm Roy McGillicuddy, Life-Of-The-Party for hire! BEEEEEE-OOOOOOO! BEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Look, Lindsay! I'm making you glasses out of my HANDS! Now you can SEEEEEEEE BET-TOR! But look, your magic handglasses shoot lasers! Whoooo! BEEEE-OOOOOOZAP! BEEEE-OOOOOZAP! Careful with your newfound powers, precious! Ha, J/K, J/K, you know I'm just playing wit' you. Oh man, I'm so funny. Hey Lindsay, let's do a quick group improv now, okay? Uh, I'll give you a word or phrase and you have to base a scene around that word or phrase, okay? Cool, cool...your word is LAZER GLASSES!!! Ha, oh God, I kill me! Did you see how I brought that back? Brought back the lazer glasses? Did you see that? The lazer glasses? It's called a callback, in comedy terms. I can teach you! BEEEE-OOOOO!"
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
...
It's Kate Fucking Moss.
Lindsay looks absoutely frozen in terror. That's probably the right way to play it; if she makes any sudden movements, Moss will probably inhale her.
You just know Lohan is wildly out of her element here. Like, she showed up to some model party thinking she could handle it, and Moss immediately takes a shine to her and starts being all friendly, but Lohan is terrified because Moss is sucking pile after pile of blow into her bloodstream and Lohan is scared to follow suit, but she wants to, you know, seem cool too? So she does a little and then Moss starts to lose her shit and gets completely whacked out and suddenly she whips this headband on Lohan's head and is all like, "Now we're TREE SISTERS FOR LIFE!", and she starts to drag Lohan around a little too forcefully and Lohan isn't sure (it's kind of dark inside) but she thinks Moss' shirt is covered in blood and after a while Lohan asks if she can leave and Moss gets a crazy look in her eye and says in a far-away voice, "But you can never leave..."
And then the chanting starts.
So, in conclusion; Lohan...we're never fucking her again.
You lucky fucks. You lucky, lucky, lucky fucks.
Okay readers, you're not beautiful, right? No, of course you're not, don't be fucking stupid you hideous fucking slags. Jesus, have you even looked in a mirror lately? Please, don't even bother, it's not worth it. Plus, why would you want to cause the mirror that much pain? Don't take out your crag-faced anger on a mirror just because it shows you the truth.
Anway, let's face it readers; you ain't pretty, you'll never be pretty, you're incapable of seeming attractive even in your own dreams, ok?
Now, as we all know, to be young and famous in Hollywood, well, you pretty much gotta be pretty. You want to run with the 'in-crowd'? You better damn well look like Leto and be adept at banging anything that so much as...exists.
That description wasn't you, was it? No, you dumb, gangrenous, beastly fuck, obviously it wasn't. Well, it seems clear that you, the average, repulsive Shrimpjaw reader will never know what it's like to party with the hot stars and starlets. You'll never know what it's like to be out at Pure at 3am getting hit on by B-level Fox sitcom celebrities. That's right, Frankie Muniz will never try to grab your pudgy ass. Loser.
But fear not, Shrimpjawicus has arrived on his magical steed of generosity just for you. We're not going to bullshit, Shrimpjaw can pretty much get any woman we want, so this isn't really a problem for us, but for you, all for you troll-like readers, we recently asked Lindsay Lohan herself to photodocument a few nights in her life so that you might have this one, golden opportunity in your life to see what you will never have.
With no further ado, Shrimpjaw presents...
"Something You Can Never Have? Friends" - A Lohantastic Photo Essay
Okay. Uh...wowie. Alright. Look at how great Lohan's life is! GREAT! AWESOME! YOU'RE NOT THERE! YOU SAD BASTARD! LOOK! JUST LOOK! LOHAN! LOHAN AND...uh...uh....LOHAN AND FRIEND!
MAN, FUCK YOU! YEAH....yeah....alright. Shit, let's just be honest; this is the best Lohan could do at 1:30 in the morning? Shouldn't she be out giving Fez a hand job as they drive down Wilshire? Instead they're where? At Lohan's Aunt Barbara's house or something? This is the worst party house ever. Yep, nothing says 'young, dangerous, ready-to-fuck, Hollywood' like a wicker basket full of fire wood, next to a just-read Seventeen. Do you think Lohan and Darkhair just finished reading an article about Aaron Carter and started blushing? Yeah, I can see it now, "HE is TOO cute!", "OMG, I KNOW!" Great. Real fucking party animals, these two.
And, just hold up a second. What the fuck is going on in this picture? These two are so goddamn awkward looking. It's like you've just arrived in Amsterdam and you have tens of thousands of dollars to blow. So what do you do? Get high priced hookers, of course. So you check into your hotel and immediately get on the horn to an escort (aka BANG-OUT) service. The heavily-accented Dutch woman on the end tells you your girl will arrive at the hotel in an hour or so, so in the meantime you lounge around, watch a few minutes of Dutch TV (it's terrible) and then decide to take a shower. When you get out and walk back into your room, your pro is there with a duet, and they are both waiting for you on the floor, but they turn out to be, like, fourteen. They try to look seductive but the whole age difference (you're 49, you fucking flabby perv) sort of makes you nervous. The girls look uneasy and don't really seem to know what sexy is, they just sort of know what the gleamed off of Sean Paul music videos. So you sit there deciding what to do and in the end you just jerk off moistly into a paper bag while the girls watch television. Yeah, welcome to the Netherlands, you man-child. Way to lose your cool.
Yeah! This is more fucking like it! Hood-rat bitches, right? Awesome. Lohan is so ghetto-hard. Goddamn right, La-la-la-Lohan, throw your arms in the air, neeeegro! Give that middle finger saluuute! Shit, girl totally knows how to thug it out. Nothing says hard-ass-motherfucker like hanging out in a parking lot at the country club. These bitchez are about to go Charlie's Angels all up in the motherfucking polo grizzounds! Quick! How many BMW's are in this picture? Four? Five? No, it's cool though, they're rebellious and everything. I believe that one girl is trying to show us all how thick dat azz is, as well. Tremendous.
God...I'm really already hating Lohan's posse. In fact, Shrimpjaw bets that Lohan must be pretty sick of them as well. I mean, come on, there is no way that she's going to invite them to any Academy Awards after parties anytime soon. Darkhair Cockteasorson (Don't even try to deny it. Billy Prescott told us all about you) might be desireable in the eyes of Jim Mediocre, backup quarterback for the Hicktown Nobodies, but in Tinseltown she'd barely be worth a cursory groping by a C-list celeb (we're thinking Fred Savage). The less said about Little Miss Hagface on the left, the better. Really regretting those BFF bracelets now, aren't you Lo-Lo?
Oh, awesome, we're back at Aunt Barb's house. The party never stops. This is pretty normal though. Just five BFF's, their Seventeen mags, and of course, one huge bong. I'm sure that's not even Lohan's though, right? She's a responsible young starlet, she would never do drugs, right? She would definitely never admit in an interview with a major magazine that she loved jcocaine, correct?
This picture actually leaves one a little confused. Shrimpjaw's definitely getting mixed messages here. So, I mean, all the water bottles and a Diet, Caffeine-Free Coke...that's healthy living, yes? But, uh, the huge bong...hmmm. Also note all the cigarettes. So really, drugs are fine as long as they don't make you fat, right? Like, alcohol? Baaaad. Cocaine? Goooood. Pizzapills? Baaaad. Heroin? Goooood.
See, dieting is easy. No wonder all the Hollywood stars are so thin; eating right is as simple as your ABC's! On top of all this, you just know that Aunt Barbara is sitting in the other room, watching old taped episodes of "Murder, She Wrote" and silently giving off that unmistakable aroma of crushing loneliness and impending death. Every once in a while she'll venture in with a plate of stale Ritz crackers and cheese, or a bowl of ribbon candy. Old Barb will try and make some lighthearted joke about how the girls better not cause too much mischief. The girls will laugh uncomfortably until she is out of earshot, at which time they will ruthlessly deride her. Slumber parties are fun!
About damn time! Out somewhere! Yeah, they finally left fucking Barbara at home. That old slut ruins everything! Now it's just the five girls out on the town, ready to fuck every guy they see and play all the Sims 2 that they can.
Fuck.
Seriously, that's the Sims 2 on the table. Amid all the drinks (non-alcoholic I'm sure, remember the lesson we just learned? That's right, we don't want any Mischa Barton's around here), amid the shot glasses...the Sims fucking 2. Great. Jesus Christ, these girls are the shittest batch of partiers ever. Was the Sims 2 just so goddamn good that they had to bring it along? Do you even see a fucking computer around? NO, NO YOU FUCKING DON'T. Know why? Cause it's a fucking bar. You go to drink and make sexual mistakes, not to sit around discussing the merits of hanging the fucking clown painting. I bet you anything this is Darkhair's doing. Look at that bitch. "Lindsay, I don't think we've played enough Sims 2 today. We're TOTALLY taking it out with us! OMG! Can we even DO that? Like, for real? Oh my god, we're going to bring the Sims box and totally just, like, PUT it on the table! Tanya will flip! Holy shit! We're so goddamn funny! Haha, Parent Trap!" What a whore.
Hey, do you think if you hit Lohan in the face hard enough with that Sims 2 box, cocaine would come out of her ears?
So, 12 am and Lohan looks like she's had enough. Fucking lightweight. Who passes out at midnight?
Of course, passing out is understandable after talking about the Sims 2 for six hours. If this is the case, then go right ahead Dear Linz, pass out. Oh, and yes, thank you for giving that middle finger again. It was TOTALLY necessary and absolutely hi-larious. At a Shrimpjaw party, this would be the point where all nubile young models would begin annointing us with various exotic oils, followed directly by an orgy of such a size and ferocity that it will be visible from space. Take that, ISS astronerds. All the degrees and fancy medals in the world don't change the fact that we've been pleasuring your wives on a daily basis since last July. Hell, they're not even that good looking. Especially Irina, Christ, what's the Russian word for "botox"? Shrimpjaw is just trying to remind you of your place. Even though you may look down on the earth from a distance of 220 miles, never forget that Shrimpjaw is lightyears above you in every other conceivable way. Wait, what were we talking about? Oh, right, Lohan's boring life. Fuck, someone get these girls some drugs quick, before they bust out the sleeping bags and start comparing tampon brands.
"BEEEEE-OOOOOOOO! BEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I'm Roy McGillicuddy, Life-Of-The-Party for hire! BEEEEEE-OOOOOOO! BEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Look, Lindsay! I'm making you glasses out of my HANDS! Now you can SEEEEEEEE BET-TOR! But look, your magic handglasses shoot lasers! Whoooo! BEEEE-OOOOOOZAP! BEEEE-OOOOOZAP! Careful with your newfound powers, precious! Ha, J/K, J/K, you know I'm just playing wit' you. Oh man, I'm so funny. Hey Lindsay, let's do a quick group improv now, okay? Uh, I'll give you a word or phrase and you have to base a scene around that word or phrase, okay? Cool, cool...your word is LAZER GLASSES!!! Ha, oh God, I kill me! Did you see how I brought that back? Brought back the lazer glasses? Did you see that? The lazer glasses? It's called a callback, in comedy terms. I can teach you! BEEEE-OOOOO!"
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
...
It's Kate Fucking Moss.
Lindsay looks absoutely frozen in terror. That's probably the right way to play it; if she makes any sudden movements, Moss will probably inhale her.
You just know Lohan is wildly out of her element here. Like, she showed up to some model party thinking she could handle it, and Moss immediately takes a shine to her and starts being all friendly, but Lohan is terrified because Moss is sucking pile after pile of blow into her bloodstream and Lohan is scared to follow suit, but she wants to, you know, seem cool too? So she does a little and then Moss starts to lose her shit and gets completely whacked out and suddenly she whips this headband on Lohan's head and is all like, "Now we're TREE SISTERS FOR LIFE!", and she starts to drag Lohan around a little too forcefully and Lohan isn't sure (it's kind of dark inside) but she thinks Moss' shirt is covered in blood and after a while Lohan asks if she can leave and Moss gets a crazy look in her eye and says in a far-away voice, "But you can never leave..."
And then the chanting starts.
So, in conclusion; Lohan...we're never fucking her again.
