This is a picture of a girl looking lost and hurt and alone in her room surrounded pics of the men she’s slept and the condoms they used with her. You care because you figure that a girl like that has the kind of daddy issues that makes her easy pickings and you’d have a pretty good chance of making it onto the wall of fame yourself. I care because I figure that a girl like that is easy picking because she has attachment and abandonment issues on top of her daddy issues, and it’ll be really easy to talk her into trying something new since she’s not getting what she needs out of what she’s been doing.
This is a pic of a one girl feigning like she’s giving another girl a rim job that kind of reminds me of what would happen if Terry Richardson went slumming with a stock photographer.
You care because that one girls is looking right into the camera which helps you pretend that you’re actually in the room and they’re waiting for you to get in there. I care because seeing the blonde’s thick-rimmed glasses pressed into the couch helps me pretend that I’m actually in the room giving another girl a rim job.
This is a photo of a topless chick drinking a beer and posing for the camera with “New York is a friendly town” scrawled across her chest. You care because the can of Budweiser makes you think that she’s your kind of girl, and the snuff-porn lighting makes you think that this is gonna go your way. I care because it reminds me of early American Apparel ads, when Dov Charney first started ripping off Terry Richardson, but hadn’t figured out the whole lighting thing yet.
This is a picture of some cute chick in an American Apparel t-shirt holding up a zinger of a placard at a pro gay marriage rally. You care because she reminds you of how much less of a man you are than cute lesbian protestors, which makes the idea of being worthless and deserving of hard and brutal domination and punishment from a girl so much smaller, frailer, and cuter than you are really turn you on. I care because, suddenly, girls that cute and witty make me wanna reconsider my stance on lifelong commitment marriage.
Here is a still of Olivia Wilde smoking a cigarette topless. You care because it helps you imagine what it’d be like if you just gave her multiple orgasms and she’s now enjoying sucking back on a post-coital smoke and bantering on about some cutsie pillow-talk because she’s still reeling from the afterglow.
I care because I figure that if I ever met her, I could point out how paradoxical it is that she’ll go topless on the big screen in front of millions, but never in public or for a private audience, and that she shouldn’t let society commodify her sexuality that way, and then maybe I could convince her to take off her top for herself (in front of me) because, after all, it’s not like she has anything I don’t or haven’t seen already, anyway.
This is a picture of a topless chick in high heels and hot shorts walking two dalmatians at a time. You care because the sight of a nearly nude woman dominating two lower beasts excites you on a primal level that appeals to some of your deepest, most carnal desires. I care because any Barbie Doll who can handle two bitches at a time has to have a little bit more to her than just a long pair of legs and good taste in accessories.
Meet M.J. Corey, a New York based writer. She has a Tumblog called The Average American Female, but she’s anything but because she’s cute, whitty, talented — and she likes girls. But seriously, she’s had all these chapters from her manuscript published in some major magazines and has been getting booked for a lot of public readings lately.
You care because cute girls who wear fedoras make you feel a bit better about those confusing feelings you had about Joey McIntyre back when NKOTB was all the rage. I care because because she’s a cute, whitty, talented writer who likes girls and the interwebs — and who reached to me, which makes me think that I might already have a prospect for the next time in The Big Apple — or, as I like to call it, The Big Peach 😉
This is a video of Mila Kunis coming to Justin Timberlake’s defence at a press conference in Moscow. You care because you think that chicks who speak Russian are hot because you imagine that makes them domineering and more likely to want to punish you despite your looks and performance. I care because I figure if Mila did that sex scene in Black Swan, I might be able to dupe her agent into sending her to an audition with me.
This is a picture of a chick in a bathtub full of milk with only her boobies showing. You care for the obvious oedipal reasons that stem from you being breast fed too long or not at all. I care because, as much as it’s interesting to see a couple of tits floating in a pool of milk, it’s even more interesting how some explicitly non-sexual byproduct of an overly sexualized organ (boobs) is being using to tease the mind into imagining what lurks beneath those murky waters — even if you’d have to wipe her down before being able to do anything with her.
This is Samantha Ronson’s mugshot from when she was arrested Monday morning for driving drunk from Vegas to LA, on her way back from DJ’ing gig.
You care because women who have the chutzpah to do the things you think are outlaw-cool but don’t have the balls to do are hot, especially when they’re chick who bang chicks. I care because now she might lose her license or have it suspended or something, so if I ever run into her at a party or in a club, I’ll have an in because I’ll know that she’ll be looking for a ride home, which I can offer after plying her with drinks and putting her in a bad-decision making mindset.