We ask a sexy babe what pisses her off. Today’s Ballbreaker: Jenny Poussin
What’s with the “no dogs allowed” everywhere now? For instance, yesterday I go to my bank to deposit yet another check earned from my Nobel Prize-winning research in molecular biology. (Just kidding, I won the Nobel Prize for lingerie modeling.) I walk in with my totally adorable eight-pound dog, Rocky, asleep in my cute bag, and this rent-a-cop guy says, in his best Nazi kommandant voice, “Dogs aren’t allowed in the bank!” I was dumbfounded–what the hell? Do I have a 150-pound rabid attack hound with me? It’s a tiny dog! I’ve heard all the excuses for dog-hating. Dogs are messy? So were 99 percent of my boyfriends. Dogs bark and make noise? So do human babies, but you can’t have a “no babies allowed” policy, can you? Dogs are smelly? Most people are much smellier than Rocky could ever be (see above comment about my ex-boyfriends), and the nuclear-waste drug-store perfume they wear doesn’t help! Dogs are unsanitary? What apocalyptic disease do you think my eight-pound Yorkie is carrying–mad cow? Porcine virus? Ebola? Bubonic plague? I get it that some people just aren’t dog people–I’m not asking you to let him sleep in your bed. Just live and let live, ok?
And by the way I have a pussy. My pussy’s name is Shanny, and I love her dearly, so don’t give me any of your garbage about how cats are clean and dogs are dirty. My doggy and my pussy and my Rocky and my Shanny are all clean at all times, I can promise you that.
So what if Russell Crowe bonked someone over the head with his phone? So what if Christian Bale threw another hissy fit on set? They’re great actors, that’s all I care about. So what if Jenny Poussin got arrested, yet again, for public indecency and lewd behavior, and used her feminine wiles on the arresting officer to get the charges dropped? Does that make Jenny Poussin a bad slutty person? Give Jenny Poussin a break! Maybe someday Jenny Poussin will use her feminine wiles on you–and you’ll be very grateful! Why is Jenny Poussin talking about herself in the third person?
Here in Montreal, squirrels are everywhere, and they attract camera-wielding tourists who act as if they’re shooting albino leopards for National Geographic. It’s a squirrel, dude! A rat with a furry tail! Get out of my park with your tripod and bag of peanuts!
I believe that there is an art to talking dirty–at the right time, in the right place, dirty talk is a huge turn-on for me. But what’s with these guys who just spew nasty words and ideas at all times? I just overheard a guy describe how he farted in bed with such force that the sheets rose up and “it totally surprised the bitch.” Whaaat? It’s bad enough that you would let one loose while in bed with a woman, but then you call her a bitch and laugh about it with your loser friend? You are a bad person, and I feel terribly sorry for her.
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