Lindsay Lohan, acclaimed actress and refined lady of high society, was arrested this morning around 1:30 a.m., and charged with driving under the influence and possession of a controlled substance (read: Magic Powder) amongst other citations. As of the time of this posting (read: as currently as my job allows me to check cnn.com whilst avoiding braindead customers), Miss Lohan was still in custody, awaiting to be released on bail.
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You know, as much as my self-professed love of Natalie Portman tends to lend itself to ranting about the attractiveness of Long Island women, Lindsay is probably a far better sampling of the typical mindset of the Longislandus Vaginaslovecokeus. "Oh my god (the ritual opening to every Longislandus statement), isn't ________ (monosylabic-male name) so fucking hot? Sure, he let me bleed from the nose unconsious on his patio while six of his Fred Flinstone-esque (read: No-Neck) masturbating in a loose circle around me, but he bought me a cab ride home in the morning, so I think this could go somewhere."
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.....Ok, maybe that was a little strong. But what else can you say about a girl that is probably the only celebrity pretty much every guy alive has a semi-decent shot at sleeping with, provided they lay out a single line of cocaine leading directly to their bedrooms, much like the way I seduced that sexy little minx with Reeses Pieces all those years ago.
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But still, despite his repeated promises, he never calls. I thought we had a connection.
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