Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Lindsay Lohan

“I am a work in progress…”

Lindsay Lohan has been killin’ it so hard that it might as well be the last days of Rome.  Whether it’s getting high with your mom, going out to the finest clubs in LA with her entourage, slamming Jager bombs and then railing lines of coke off whichever cocktail waitress has the privilege to serve her VIP table, it’s hard to believe she finds time between getting awesome and getting totally fucking awesome to maintain some semblance of a career.  Lohan’s basically a less hairy, more slutty version of Janis Joplin that just does covers of Stevie Nicks, circa Bella Donna, and has been killin’ it ever since she was cast in the remake of the Parent Trap.

“I'm not going to deny the fact that I've tried pot. I hated it.”

Life for Lindsay is strictly above the law and her killin’ it game is so transcendent that it made Andrew W.K. go on the straight and narrow.  When it comes to throwing three sheets to the wind Lohan’s got it covered: Judge bans you from all drug and alcohol use? Makes you wear an ankle bracelet that detects drugs in your system?  No problem.  Lindsay didn't just do coke with the bracelet on – she made the bracelet do it with her. Too strung out to formulate a press response after your tenth relapse? Make your assistants tweet it for you while you come down on Jack & Cokes spiked with rufilin. Who gives a fuck about jail when Herbie: Fully Loaded is the only movie they let prisoners watch? 

“Where the fuck is my drink?”

If you can't find Lindsay in the county jail or in the smoking lounge of the classiest co-ed, sex positive rehab clinics, you'll probably find her behind the wheel of a stolen car, chasing some former assistant who probably tried to take an eight ball from her. She hangs out with the sluttiest D-listers and the gayest stylists Hollywood has to offer, all of whom throw rocks (of cocaine) at her in homage to her lifestyle, which is a female tableau vivant of Axl Rose's career circa Use Your Illusion II. 

“You know Paris, if I had been around when Aristotle was penning the Metaphysics, entelecheia would be defined as being-at-work-totally-killin’-it.  Wait, Britney, did you just finish all the blow?”

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