There I was yesterday, at the Santa Monica courthouse, standing in line to pay a registration ticket. Lady T was sitting on the bench or something, and she went, “Psst,” and I looked over.
Ever heard of a motherfucking Oompa Loompa? I had a fucking Oompa Loompa, THE Oompa Loompa, standing right next to me, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and really really small, white Keds.
Little Dude was also in The Dark Crysal, one of Suit’s favorites, and was an Ewok in the old Star Wars. Pimpin.
How did I know he was an alien? It’s pretty fucking obvious.
How do I see all of these world famous celebrities? My inner beauty and stardom obviously acts as a magnet for similar people. Movie stars are inherently and automatically attracted to me by a gravitational pull that is not unlike the phenomenon of certain flowers attracting certain insects, by just growing in a certain shape and color. Biology and evolution (or god’s perfect design, you pick) makes it so that the bugs and their flowers look the same, so they are enmeshed in an eternal relationship of survival and give-and-take. So it goes with my celebrity interactions.
Or it could just be I hang out in courthouses, where celebrities also frequent.
Last July at the courthouse, this guy winked at my special Lady T. WTF you pansy bitch? I don’t care if you can make squeaky voices.
Here’s proof that Paul McCartney is an old gay man.
Notice A) his lame cd is being sold at Starbucks B) the fucking stupid look on his face and C) one of the new songs is called “Vintage Clothes,” and it is fucking shitty.
What’s ridiculous to me is how many great reviews this fucking WEAK cd got from all the big reviewers. This shit is WEAK. Rolling Stone and others, stop sucking this guy’s dick, his new songs suck. The old ones were great, but give me a fucking break, do not give this CD a 4/5 or whatever. Bullshit. I heard that song Vintage Clothes when I was getting coffee, and I am not kidding when I say that song is a Grade A piece of shit. Give me a fucking break McCartney. Fucking Macca. What a bitch.
Paul pisses me off. What a fucking nancy. Yoko pisses me off too, while we’re at it. The two stupid bitches fucking wouldn’t get along for 10 minutes so that they could buy the Beatles catalogue. So who gets it? Michael Fucking Jackson…who has now sold a bunch of it to cover his pedophilia lawyers. At least they came together at the LOVE premier in Vegas late last year, but give me a fucking break. Get over yourselves, you old bitches, what’s done is done, why don’t you sell the rest of the Beatles songs to fucking Dick Cheney while we’re at it.