Courtney Love was at Coachella this past weekend and she wasn’t there to play any kind of music, she was there to hawk the e-ciggy brand she’s the face of. How the fallen have rolled to the edge and fallen again. I can’t totally shit on Courtney’s hustle, because a crazy bitch has got to do what a crazy bitch has got to do to pay her team of private investigators and lawyers to find the Nigerian prince who swindled her out of billions of dollars.
It’s kind of poetic that the Countess of the Crackheads was supposedly sober (uh huh) and smoking an e-cig in the middle of an Ecstasy and coke desert orgy. If New Year’s Eve is amateur hour for seasoned drunks, then Coachella is amateur hour for Courtney. As the little children rolled on their little half-pills of E, Courtney let out a haughty laugh, because she knows if she so much as queefed in their mouths, they’d instantly die of a heroin overdose.
Here’s more of Courtney looking like a dried up knee scab with lips at Coachella over the weekend. I also threw in some pictures of Mischa Barton, greasy Gerald Butler, Wonky McValtrex with her toy, MiserAlba and Rosanna Arquette.