By Lex October 09, 2014 @ 1:07 PM
I have that dreaded disease where you have trouble recognizing faces. Sometimes I walk right by a guy I spent three years sharing an apartment with or some girl I don’t recognize comes up and slaps me for having sex with her sister while we were still married. It’s confusing. I rely on body parts to figure out who’s who. Last week I identified Pamela Anderson in a car without needing to see her face. I can describe to you ever centimeter of her tits in greater detail than the Rover can digitally map out the surface of Mars. I look at this blond chick and all I see is drunk stripper with a mullet. Without her tits hanging out, she may as well be a coat rack. I know many men who don’t have my same ailment still share a similar opinion.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex October 03, 2014 @ 10:26 AM
Calling Pamela Anderson’s tit hanging out of her dress a wardrobe malfunction is something akin to the mustached dude at the park innocently explaining how he forgot his pants. These aren’t mere accidents. However Pam’s tits are being measured these days, cc’s, liters, calcified jizz layer depth, they certainly aren’t going to stay contained in a braless negligee top. And why should they? Those tits are a good reason many people came to this country. In fact, they were the reason Pam came to this country. You don’t just mummify those fuckers and preserve them for the hereafter. These two jugs represent the sole remaining public interest in Pam Anderson, her drink, her poker playing unemployed husband, and all the other Pam Anderson shit that ranks anywhere in Google’s top 100,000 results pages. It’s the tits, stupid. Fuck, have a cocktail or four and let them fly, sister.
Photo Credit: PacificCoastNews
By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 3:07 PM
It’s the ass shadow version of Punxsutawney Phil. When Pam Anderson and her new Jane Fonda hair flash crack, it means she’s giving her unemployed husband six more weeks to bang her before she finalizes the divorce proceedings. It’s a test. A solid boffing can buy Rick Salomon some more time to live off of Pam’s assets the creditor’s haven’t yet seized. He is a gambler by nature. I see him going at this with the full fervor of a man who works three nights a year. I was going to ask for my Williams Sonoma salad bowl back, but I’m going to delay that request. I think these two kids really might make it.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News
By Matt July 11, 2014 @ 3:18 PM
Pamela Anderson turned the sentiment of her recent divorce into a string of prose so horribly absurd, Satan ordered rats to dig into Robert Frost’s grave and fuck his skull. Long and rambling, Pam’s poem presents dystopian views critical of the digital age, like it was written by Phillip K Dick if he had an itchy vagina and a coke habit. It touches frequently on her husband’s infidelity:
Coded, and loaded Cell phones,
Ordering sex on line-
is like ordering a book on Amazon–
and … snooping eats you alive–
Anderson is apparently surprised that the trust fund kid who fucked the herpes out of Paris Hilton on camera is prone to cheating. Then the poem devolves into a most likely plagiarized Skinemax plot of a movie Pam starred in, as she has a mystical lesbian encounter with a European prostitute:
BG- looking for a little human contact?
Playful seduction? …
ME- “I’m so Hungry…”
BG- Her heart was racing—
It was barely dawn –
Bathed in perfect light-
magic hour– –
ME- “Everyone looks good this early”
BG- Even cats and hummingbirds
Then it just gets real weird as Anderson becomes critical of pornography which I guess she renounced after making much of it and selling it online.This passage could not be ignored:
I know I won’t compete with a computer–
or – a gaggle of hollywood boys hiring poor
Russian girls to swallow loaves of bread
up their anus’?-
I don’t know how many Pulitzer winning poems contain the word Anus but I think its slim to none. Even gay romantic poets use the term ‘Stargate to romance’. I can’t say Pam’s poetry is any worse than Maya Angelou, though I think it’s fair to say it is worse than any other poetry ever written by somebody who wasn’t experiencing a high school breakup. It’s probably best for Pam to stick to what she knows, finding a new shitty husband to make her forget about the last.
Photo Credit: Getty Images
By Lex July 07, 2014 @ 12:00 PM
Pamela Anderson was showing off her yabbos and picking coins up off the ground over the weekend to get back in touch with that hopeful young girl just arrived in Los Angeles twenty-five years ago. Pam’s truly come full circle. Marrying the same men she used to marry, bending over to get attention, and waiting for a Hollywood producer to tell her there’s a slasher movie with a role just for her tits. I hope it works out for her. Malibu’s a particularly shitty place to live off found nickels.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News, Splash
By Lex May 30, 2014 @ 1:31 PM
At some point in every woman’s life, she has to ask herself, am I ready to cut my hair short and start looking more like Ellen. You can pretend the pixie cut or the Robin Wright or the bob is cute and darling as it shall be so described by your friends. But even those coffee klatchers are now thinking to themselves, finally, I don’t have to worry about my husband wanting to nail you while I’m out of town visiting my mother. Pam Anderson cut her hair short so she’d be taken more seriously in her middle years. Also, it’s a bitch to get vomit out of tangled long locks. But when it was time for the insanely crappy World Music Awards, Pam wanted to let the world know she was still fecund and very much all woman. So she purchased numerous locks of Heather Locklear 80′s hair off that guy on eBay who sells everything and had a whore toupee assembled that was a nearly 46% match to her own natural hair. Pam was truly the belle of the ball, un-phased by many people asking her in French if her new husband was indeed that same guy who fucked Paris Hilton on night vision camera.
Photo Credit: Getty