Lady Gaga wants YOU to smell like a hooker!

                         

The perfume is made out of the molecular structures of blood and semen.  The semen is supposed to leave you with that 'after sex' feeling and the blood part is directly taken from her own blood samples so that when you wear her crappy perfume, you have a "sense of wearing her on your skin".  Wow, the narcissism is mind boggling.  Does anyone have a tranquilizer gun for this broad?  No?  How about a taser?  Stefani obviously thinks she's this cultural phenomenon like Ghandi or Jesus that she deserves to be worn on your skin and mix DNA together.  

Usually after sex, people reach for a towel to wipe the semen off of them and Gaga wants you to wear it as a perfume.   I wonder if it's her semen?

How can it be that this woman is sane enough to run a foundation geared to help encourage self esteem and self worth?  There should be a law forbidding mental cases from starting up self help charities. 

Think about it.   Do you think Rihanna should start up a self esteem foundation when she wears the word 'cunt' on a chain around her neck and is allegedly getting back together with Chris Brown, a guy who beat the crap out of her a few years ago?  I would say no.

So how is Gaga any different?   Look at her track record.  See THIS post as a reminder.

No word yet as far as I know on what the perfume will be called.  My guess is 'Gold Dust Whore' or 'S.L.U.T.' or 'Born This Whore' or maybe just 'Hooker'.

Thank you Rimzy for the link. 

 

......I am actually sick to my stomach :(

RUNIC WISDOM - FEBRUARY 25

News of Bernie Clark's death reached  me when I was in rural Japan. He was the first of my ggeneration to die. I could never tell when my sadness would capture me. Yet I was comforted by the Rune of Grief: "Know that even the deepest grief, when fully felt, will lessen and soften over time. There is a calm to be found on the far side of grief, a peace unknown to those who have yet to grieve." In the deep of winter I wrote:

Flowering plum branches

in a street vendor's arms.

O how I miss you.