Apparently the wind likes me, because I don’t think I could take seeing Lindsay Lohan’s beat vagina anymore. I only vaguely remember a time when this tramp was hot, but that was so long ago it seemed like it never happened. If my memory of Lindsay Lohan was Christmas time with my family, my grandfather would be coming down from the attic, opening a huge dusty book with a lock on it so he could show me a newspaper clipping of Linday Lohan’s rack in Mean Girls.
The next possible hurricane in 2024.
