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August 13, 2015 | celebrity | Lex Jurgen | 0 Comments
Rihanna circled the lower part of Manhattan through the night visiting various tattoo parlors that would each in turn provide her with little bits of permanent future regret. Body art for women was invented as a way of separating mildly unattractive women from their truly horrific looking counterparts. It’s a demarcation line for inebriated men to fathom when they’d sunk just enough. That giant winged Beelzebub fucking Tony Orlando on your back is piercing my beer goggles. I’m going home to masturbate to the parts of Rihanna not covered in green. I’m lonely but I can urinate without screaming. Thank you obvious visual warnings.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet