Celebrity Death Cab

Ahhh, Lohan - where do I even start with you? You have pleasantly sized shock absorbers that makes having sex with a werewolf like me very easy. I’d like to go on record and say that I know for a fact Lindsay’s a shapeshifter. How do I know? Easy. Who do you think turned her into one? Yep, me. Here’s how it went down…

While in Vegas, I was out with some of my Lycan homeboys doing what we do best: howling at the moon and killing hookers. Anyway, one thing lead to another and I was introduced to Lohan via a mutual acquaitance. We began some small talk and it seemed like she really liked me. I say this because she was grabbing my crotch the whole time we spoke.

Next morning, impressed with myself, I ask her, “So, how was your first encounter with a werewolf?” To which she responds, “I’m a unicorn, so I’m really not one to talk.”

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I’d really like to sink my teeth into Jessica Simpson’s intermammary cleft. Had it not been for the fact that my mandible fell out trying to chew my way through a door to get to some poor hopeless soul in a back alley a few nights ago, I’d have myself a grand old time with those fleshy-charms. Oh, right, hi, I’m a sexually frustrated zombie. No seriously, a real one. And I just happen to like celebrity gossip. (I zimagine her brains must taste like egg yogurt.)