There are one million model looking women in this world and only one-thousand paid slots. This competitive landscape is akin to growing up in the Dominican with dreams of being a major league ball player. I know even the fat kid you mockingly call El Crappo would have been the single best player in my little league, but he’s not competing with my Bad News Bears spastics. He’s up against every single other kid on the poor baseball crazed island. When the scout from New York City flies down to experience your hookers and find a power hitting shortstop, you shoot yourself full of HGH, blow the White Out dry on your fake birth certificate, and tell him your nickname is Baby A-Rod. I’m using baseball analogies because I don’t really understand the modeling world. Except that girls who take their clothes off go farther in all aspects of life.
Photo Credit: Lui