You have no idea how hard it is to find a photo of you where you aren’t hawking yourself on some pointless red carpet. Or wearing a far-too-aggressive push-up bra. Or jutting your ass out in some schoolgirl outfit/bikini/lingerie number for one of those glossy bathroom semi-jerk-off magazine spreads. Or hosing around with some useless celebutard who seems far too young to be hanging out with you, cuz you look like you’re freakin’ forty-five and apparently you just turned twenty-eight this week. Blegh! Jesus! Don’t you think there might be better ways to present yourself? More to do with yourself? What do you do? Who the hell are you? You’re rounding up towards thirty, for crying out loud! Two years away, but getting there.
Oh, which reminds us. Happy birthday. You’re twenty-eight. You look, uh, great.
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