famous pussy vs. katie pussy

I often wonder what famous women’s pussies’ look like in comparison to my own. Not porn pussy or Paris Hilton pussy, because those pussies are superfluous. I’m also educated enough to know that my Jewtang doesn’t hold a candle to their Protang.

I imagine that pussy grooming expenses are tax deductible. That their V’s are as pristine as a Maybach. That they have a shiny effervescent glow, even without titillation. That their vulva lips are soft pink, perfectly budding roses. That mountain spring water gushes when they orgasm. That their pussies are on self-refreshing timers.

Clearly, I have Famous Pussy Pedestal Syndrome and it’s a problem.

But, how could I not? Men clamor to get inside famous pussy, often fixating on one star-slit as their principal source of jerk-off inspiration. Of course they have contingency celebtang, too, that they wouldn’t kick out of bed. What red blooded American man doesn’t want to say, “Yeah. I fucked her.”

In my mind, the reigning pussies in Hollywood must be, Jennifer Aniston. Each believing he holds the key to igniting the innocent fire betwixt her legs. Angelina Jolie. Her snappin’ pussy roars, and rides like the latest and greatest death defying six flags roller coaster. Jessica Simpson. It’s where only “one man” has ever gone. Christina Aguilera. She does the compulsory sexy-lip-squeeze with a haunting rendition of, oh, yeah, baby, yeah, when a man is noshing. Jennifer Lopez because she brands all freshly dipped cocks. Nicole Ritchie. Every man thinks that if he fucks her hard enough and long enough, he’ll split that fragile anorexic in two. Lindsay Lohan. She says, fuck me harder. I said, harder, bitch! In that borderline emasculating empowering way that makes men swagger home, yet leaves them questioning the circle jerk with their JV team. Demi Moore. She dishes up compelling-dominatrix-mud-fuckeree-stripper, pussy. And, finally, Paris Hilton. It’s where every man has gone. The next one in, assuredly owns it; and, a Hilton STD has cachet.

So, how the fuck is it that my lippy, freckled, beige Jewtang is supposed to compete with such omnipotent pussy?! How?! I don’t have the mini tilde leading to a waxed set of infant lips. I enjoy a full bush. I can’t send men in without a roofie and a miner’s cap. Should his semi-erect wheezing, drugged out cock have a pulse by the time he reaches my Circus Act, I got a whole new set of problems, a jacked, low hanging buffalo lip. The kind of lip that makes audiences scream, get out of the house! Run for your life! If he fucks me with a Nonoxynol-9 condom, he better not be around at daybreak. I’m highly allergic to it and my Joon swells to can’t-close-my-legs, sized cauliflower. I also don’t have one of those, I-don’t-care-if-she’s-on-the-rag, boxes. My creepy lips part so the stuck pig can gush to perfect storm proportions. Between that, and the obligatory can-supply-yeast-to-every-fucking-bagel-shop-in-every-borough-in-New-York from antibiotics. How many weeks out of the year, am I really a good fuck?!

If I’m not surfing the Internet for the perfect pussy enhancement MD, I’m looking for a picture of the pussy I want and simultaneously viewing my own, so I know what to email the surgeon. Thus far, they are the only men to drool at the prospect of getting inside my nonny.

Dear Ms. Schwartz:

Thank you for inquiring about our vaginal reconstructive procedures. You sound like a perfect candidate for, Labiaplasty, Vaginoplasty and a full vaginal bleaching.

If your vagina is as unfortunate as it seems, we’d be willing to perform the surgery and after care for free! In exchange for before and after shots for our website. But, if it’s as radical as I hope it is, well, you lucky girl, we might even use you for our offline marketing brochures and press kits.

Looking forward to hearing back from you, and to being a beacon of light in the wake of such a painful storm.

Sincerely,
Doctor-like-it-really-fucking-matters

Ok, so, in exchange for a free, supple, sweet, pink and might I add, famous pussy, I just have to undergo lip reconstructive surgery, and heavy doses of bleach on my gash.

Are you fuckin’ kidding me?!

I record plastic surgery nightmare tales on every fucking channel in every fucking language. I’m not lookin’ for a telethon twat. The last thing I need is a Jerry Lewis “special” pussy. With a scary close up, synced up to a palsy sound byte creaking out of my hole with fundraisers applauding my heroic efforts.