Fan Letter Saturdays! Fun With Plastic Surgery...

The first ever Fan Letter Saturday!!!
It's history in the making I tell ya.
Almost.



Dear Jenna Jameson,

A vaginoplasty? Really? So what kind of “surgery tools” did they use to tighten up your meat curtains? A rotating saw and a power sander? Did the Doctor have to drive a truck in there and swing from a rope to stitch you up? I guess the good news is that they can use all that extra Jenna spam to make a couch with a matching trench coat..if you don’t mind the bait tank smell that is. I think that after getting plowed by 12 inchers for more than half your life, you should probably just get used to wrapping them around your leg or letting em’ swing in the wind.
Own it Jenna.
Own those mud flaps.
Lord knows you worked hard (on your back) for them. I can only imagine that tightening you up would be as impossible a feat as trying to close up the gap in the Grand Canyon with some barbeque tongs and duct tape.

And tell your boyfriend Tito to quit using your face as his punching bag. Damn girl. I guess this goes to show that testies yogurt is full of protein but has no moisturizing affect whatsoever. Take note ladies.

Love, Me.


Dear Courtney,

My eyes have not burned this much since I caught a glimpse of Star Jones’ lovely lady lumps. (And by lovely lady lumps, I mean those wrinkled jerky bags she calls boobs that stop right above her penis. Mmmm. Yummy.) From the looks of things, you did not heed my warnings about Tijuana plastic surgery doctors. When you have to have lipo in the back of Adelberto’s burrito shop and they give you three shots of tequila as an anesthetic, I’m guessing they’re not exactly certified doctors. Did you specifically ask to have a 60 year old lady’s stomach or did they just throw that in with your free chips and salsa as a thank you? On a positive note, you can probably hide your crack pipes in the folds and nobody would be the wiser. (See? The glass is ALWAYS half full on my watch..)
If Kurt hadn’t already blasted his brains out he would have most certainly be scrambling around for a .32 Magnum to off himself had he seen this mess.
Let’s do my eyeballs and my gag reflex a favor and invest in a one piece shall we?

Love, Me.



Dear Posh,

I don’t know if you know this, but your nipple PROBABLY shouldn’t be high enough to give you Eskimo kisses. And if you can tuck your other nipple into your armpit, well then we’ve got problems now don’t we? Just because you share the pipe with Courtney Love does not mean you should trust her with doctor referrals. And on a side note, you’re in Los Angeles now girlfriend, there’s no need to go to get the orange Kool Aid spray tan anymore. Seriously, you’re turning into citrus fruit. One more spray and you’ll turn into a Circus Peanut. Stop it. Oh and just in case you didn’t know, fruit and circus peanuts are something FOOD things. Stuff YOU CAN EAT.
As in something you put in your mouth….
to chew....
swallow....
and nourish thyself so that your ribs don’t cast a shadow on the sidewalk.

Eating.
Imagine that.

Anyways, back to the subject.
You’ve got freaky lady udders.
That is all.

Love, Me.


And the moral of this blog post?
Drugs? Bad.
Plastic Surgery in Tijuana? Not a great idea.
Being famous with an IQ that's the same number as your pants size? DEADLY.

Hope everyone is having a great weekend! Thank you kindly for your patience.

EDIT: I'm sure you are all on the verge of puking just a little bit in your mouth with all this nipping of vajayjays and mangled stomach lipos...so here's the little nudge to put you over the edge.
(up close and personal with Courtney's stomach...see how generous I am? Always giving people. ALWAYS giving.)