Crotch rot
So apparently the Antoiletta Antwatella Antonella Barba blowjob pix are fake. Hey, I figured the vacant look on the “throaty” contestant matched the same one I see on my 32″ TV screen, so whatevuh.
I figured she must be as bad at blowjobs as she is at belting out Aerosmith songs, because done right, the recipient wouldn’t have the presence of mind to reach for a camera.
Oh, and was it me or did the mosaic over the boy’s pee-pee (seriously, it was child-size) look bigger than the wand itself? And that sure as hell ain’t sayin’ much. One would think he’d keep his short-dick pics to himself!
I wonder whether she’ll be in the “Dawg Pound” on “American Idol” tonight, as the boys will be singing and the girls will be sitting there, sweating it out. Someone called the radio station yesterday and said they saw Antwatella getting on the Metro at the National Airport stop, but I doubt “Idol” would let her go home without a press release hitting the airwaves first.
In any event, I’m not sure whether I pity her more for having a rotten ex-boyfriend who released all those pix, or whether I should feel sorrier for her for that god-awful singing voice.
Speaking of crotches, I ordered a pair of pants from an online Web site. I just got the bill for 80 friggin’ dollars. Jesus H. I didn’t look at the price when I did my one-click ordering. Hot damn, they’d better come with a built-in vibrating tongue, for all THAT. Fuckin’ shipping and handling — shit, for what they charged, that tongue had better arrive attached to a MAN!