SOMEONE is in serious need of a gay in their life. Here is the original Lindsay Lohan (sans the criminal record that reads like the Iliad) Tara Reid, moon-walking the WRONG way through Paris with a mystery man on her arm and a severe case of WHAT. The. Fucking. Fuck. on her feet. What is going on there exactly? Is that duct tape?
Those fUGGs look like the Terminator had sex with my third grade galoshes, and that is some sick shit that I don’t want to think about ever again. I don’t know whether to re-attach my car bumper with them (it’s a rural southern US thing, shut it) or wrap them around a baking potato. NO. I’m so messed up by her dire shoe situation I can’t even bother caring about who the new trick is. Okay, you’re right, I wouldn’t have cared anyway, but my point is that shit is distracting.
Other than the Dollar Store dented Tin Can rejects, I have to say Tara is looking pretty decent-ish here. Of course, I’m using her St. Tropez visit a couple of weeks ago as a yard stick so, basically I mean she’s standing erect and not looking like Beer Bloat Barbie.
She needs a couple of buckets of KFC and a six pack of Guiness Extra Stout (“A 6 pack? Of what, cases? What the hell are you talking about?” – Tara), but other that that she looks sober and happy. I kind of have a soft spot for her. Us drunk hoochies have to stick together, you know.