A while back I went to a bar and met a hot euro-trash guy who said he was from Monaco. I was mix’n Xanax with liquor (as i usually do). He tells me he is an art-dealer, which means he launders money. And this is where it all goes to SLUT…
“…. suddenly inside Kama Sutra theme apartment… art guy doing lines with new Indian guy… shivering in panties in the bathtub as water runs… art guy can’t get it up…. art guy crying… waking up naked in a silk canopy bed next to Indian guy…. sensing i had not had sex but had been groped in my sleep… weird bruises in tender places… realizing I was much classier when I was as a hooker…” In my book, I didn’t truly become a whore until I stopped charging: being a hooker was a business, being an irresponsible slut was being a whore.
Here is Tara Reid, old-school Slut, giving it to a football in Malibu yesterday. She’s on one of her clean-up kicks and looking good (except her busted lypo abs). But her hot streaks always end the same way: 20 lbs of beer bloat, botched plastic surgery, and a boob slip. Until then, enjoy these.
Obediently yours,
Sugar Nell (ex-hooker, friend of Jesus)
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