By Lex January 23, 2014 @ 4:04 PM
With that inked up paw of hers, Rihanna is starting to look like the Maori pimp master. I like that Rihana doesn’t give a fuck and posts photos of her titties or her smoking weed or having sex with coconut trees. It would be super annoying if she wasn’t a decent looking chick, but she is, so it’s fun to watch her rebel with fifty mill in the bank shtick. Still, you don’t want to make your public feel like Thor Heyerdahl drifting endlessly across the Pacific only to wind up on Polynesian rape island. Class this shit up with a Vader glove, Ri-Ri.
Photo Credit: Rihanna/Instagram
By Lex January 21, 2014 @ 1:29 PM
Rihanna is not merely a legendary singer of inspiring house party music, he’s also a transformative visual artist. Employing her own body as a canvas, Rihanna is painting the story of a girl from a small island nation who would leave her homeland in search of other, bigger islands where she could score some killer weed and show off her titties. Her tattoos are like elfin songs of great weed finding and tit showing adventures in Middle Earth. Somewhere in her body language is the story of banging Matt Kemp before he sullied his peter on Khloe Kardashian. And taking a smite from Chris Brown’s tiny angry hands. I think it’s illustrated close to her taint so you might have to wait until she shifts her legs to read the end of that chapter.
Photo Credit: Rihanna/Instagram
By Lex January 14, 2014 @ 6:13 PM
Rihanna’s new duet with Colombian midget Shakira, Can’t Remember to Forget You, might be about how she still has strong feelings for Chris Brown. That lovable little scamp. Girls who like to dismiss the abusive woman-hitting parts of angry Chris Brown because he’s adorable and can dance are pining over how Rihanna might still have a thing for her ex. This is all because of lyrics in the new song:
I go back again / Fall off the train / Land in his bed.
These fawning fans might be reading into the uniqueness of the lyrics just a bit, you know, considering every single song ever by a female artist is about a boy she can’t give up. Well, except for the Indigo Girls, then it was about a girl they couldn’t give up. Also, while Rihanna is listed as a writer on the song, she’s credited with six writers in total, because sometimes it takes a village to create such genius. So there’s a good chance the song itself isn’t even about her at all. Maybe if it read Stumble high out of my private jet / Find myself in his Malibu clinic bed I’d be more inclined to see the connection.
Here’s Rihanna braless stepping off a helicopter in Brazil. It might be a super romantic secret message to Chris Brown.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex December 30, 2013 @ 1:26 PM
Now, we’re easing into the home vacation. A little drinky poo and Rihanna’s in a tight bikini with her ass in the air signaling boats to come visit her island nation home. Sometimes, you need the warm waters of the Caribbean to lap over your privates to inspire the next amazing song somebody else is going to write for you. Jimmy Buffet dangled his nads in the waters off Key West, and, blammo, along came a catchy song sort of like the last one. If Mozart hadn’t been landlocked, he too would’ve had composed with a tidal colonic. Rihanna is deep thinking. Don’t startle her or we may lose a masterwork.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI, Splash
By Lex December 27, 2013 @ 5:19 PM
Rihanna usually gets pretty naked when she gets back in her home country of Barbados. Based on the fact that she’s still dressed like the awkard stepsister with pouch issues can only be explained by the lack of THC and booze in her system. She must’ve just got there. Give it time.
Photo Credit: Splash