Serial cock fiend Rihanna and the NBA’s I know that dude from high school Matt Barnes reportedly went on two dates. And he didn’t pay. That means they fucked at least twice. TMZ caught up with Barnes after he smoked a burrito sized slab of hash and he kind of confirmed and denied that he couldn’t comment on the eighth best night of his life. He’s probably still married. Luckily when they do the vows nowdays Rihanna doesn’t count. It’s like sales tax if it smells like bananas and couch cum. Also called Juicy Fruit. Watch the video he’s still in refractory. You’d do the same thing. Wash your dick. That sofa smells like hot ass.
Rihanna circled the lower part of Manhattan through the night visiting various tattoo parlors that would each in turn provide her with little bits of permanent future regret. Body art for women was invented as a way of separating mildly unattractive women from their truly horrific looking counterparts. It’s a demarcation line for inebriated men to fathom when they’d sunk just enough. That giant winged Beelzebub fucking Tony Orlando on your back is piercing my beer goggles. I’m going home to masturbate to the parts of Rihanna not covered in green. I’m lonely but I can urinate without screaming. Thank you obvious visual warnings.
Rihanna is solidifying her status as the hot chick you hook up with once and never call back yet stay up late on holidays masturbating to the memory with a soft focus lens. She’s taken to laying down naked on Instagram and showing her luscious ass or whatever else to occupy her time besides writing music. She was “discovered” in Barbados. Doing what exactly? Hi I’m a record executive I’ve never seen such talent please continue sucking my cock, yes, it is huge, you’ve got the moxie. You totally want to do this and hit up urgent care in the morning. It’s 24 hours. Are my car keys in there? Well worth it.
Rihanna went to her native Barbados’ annual food and AIDS festival which celebrates Kadooment Day, a holiday which signifies the end of the sugar cain harvest and coincidentally everyone is coked out of their minds. She had a float and spent a lot of time twerking while dudes creepily stared at her ass but what do you expect. Soak up the rape culture. The festival is known for its raucous atmosphere, including a greased pole climbing competition, and buckets upon buckets of ass sweat being spilled onto boiling hot asphalt and promptly licked up by roaming backs of wild rabies ridden jackals. Say what you want about Rihanna’s musical talent, I’m still waiting, but she’s definitely got a great ass. Perhaps it will try writing a song some day.
Rihanna’s new music video Bitch Better Have My Money has all the elements of a successful composition. Rihanna’s tits. There’s a ton of shit in here I don’t understand. Who are the bitches? What have they done with the money? But I do understand this is miles better than the Britney Spears and Iggy Azalea music video which did not include Rihanna’s tits. The video is age gated on YouTube which means you must agree that you are eighteen to watch, which seems completely unfair to the dumbest ten percent of American middle schoolers. We could lament the state of modern popular music and how this could encourage the belief among young women that flashing their naked bodies is the only way for them to get ahead in life. Who wants to live in that world? Put your top back on, Madison. Girls can drive the Zamboni now.
Photo Credit: Rihanna “Bitch Better Have My Money”
According to HollywoodLife who takes banal stories and punches them up by way of anonymous sources and lots of exclamation points, Chris Brown was jealous when Rihanna and her new soccer boyfriend entered the same club he was partying at and started fooling around. Most guys love it when chicks who dumped them get their tits felt up by their happening new boyfriends. But not Chris Brown. According to HollywoodLife, he ‘stared’ and ‘fidgeted’, which are apparently action verbs. You never forget the feel of your knuckles compressing into the cheekbone of the first girl you ever loved enough to beat. This isn’t going away, Chris. But if you fuck another thousand models, the fidget should clear up. Rapper problems. Honestly.