Rejuvenated labia and Post-Tweens

Small Men and the midgets who love them…

There is nothing more loathsome than the wretched stench of L.A. and it’s people. Now, it’s not to say that all people from that region of the hotter states are wreckless bottom-feeders and horrendously freakish megalomaniacs, but watching trash TV and Mags, it’s hard to believe the main purpose of traveling to this twisted OZ, isn’t packed with sick intentions.

Yes, of course, puerile fresh-faced post-tweens explore the options of making it big to bite into the collective illusion, in order to be a part of the cluster fuck that is The City of Angels. Only to find themselves at the end of their sad journey with a ratted stripper weave, sickly orange skin, swollen lips, a rejuvenated labia, an eating disorder or two, expressionless faces and the belief that they are nothing without a figurative penis up their figurative ass and a new set of 8×10’s. Not to mention, the uncanny feeling that somehow, they have been chewed up and spit out. It’s hard to stomach the ouvre of that city in all its sinful glory. Imagining plasticene, manufactured faces and chemically- enhanced, withering weirdos melting beneath the warm glow of the California sun— my sphincter clenches with the very thought of it all.

This is why I find it so disturbing that I, in fact, hear the bells beckoning me. But this happens every so often, mostly when I’ve consumed far too many Red Bull, watched far too many E!, TMZ, Access Hollywood, EXTRA, Entertainment Tonight, V-H1’s those were the 90’s and THS episodes, and haven’t slept for days. Do not fear. This, too, shall pass.

~ by Timbre on February 8, 2008.