Someday not far off, Jennifer is going to put her boobs away in the closet, along with that publicity machine that puts out so many happy stories about Jennifer’s life as a bon vivant. Chinese cups can only suction so much toxin out of the body. Eventually, people will stop tolerating you simply because you look nice in a bikini and you once gave head to Brad Pitt on his birthday. Now is the time to check out Jennifer Aniston. She’ll be married soon to somebody with gravitas. Not this Justin guy. Justin’s the name of the spastic kid on your Little League team, not the guy you take to Vanity Fair The AIDS galas. Maybe a real estate mogul or an elected official or somebody willing to trade their will to live for the chance to see Jennifer topless for two weeks before and after marriage.
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