Leather in the summertime is enough to make me join PETA; it makes me want to pour red paint on every leather surface I encounter. I want to look the leather-owner straight in the eye afterward. My stare would say, “You ridiculous cow murderer. A fie on you (but should you offer, I would love to go on a car ride with you come winter. Your car is really sweet.)”
I had a crush on a character from every single TV show that ran from 1989-2000. It was only as an adult that I realized how deeply my feelings for fictional characters were rooted. I was flipping through channels, and who should I see but Michelangelo, whipping his nunchucks, being super hot and aloof. Next thing I know, I’m swooning and having flash backs of my “first time.” WHOA.
After an exhausting day, I retreated into my spacious, gleaming bathroom to take a much needed shower. To my horror, the water was ice cold. I called the super, enraged. “Oh? It was hot before, when I checked. Let me bring you your space heaters and check the water.” Space heaters? Where the fuck am I, a bomb shelter? This is my new ass apartment. What the fuck.
Jeffree Star may have very well been someone’s AB once upon a time; but at the peak of his MySpace fame he more closely resembled the Barbie’s World equivalent of Marilyn Manson. His pink hair and glittery persona was all Babs, but the “I removed my bottom ribs to perform oral sex on myself” look was totally Marilyn.