About seven years ago, Lindsay Lohan was tracking to be a superstar. Fast forward through 1000 kilos of blow, three thousand penises, countless miasmas of drunken morning afters and at least 8 cases of, "owww my pee pee burns," and you're left with the weathered, withering shell of a once voluptuous and beautiful sex symbol. After all the shit she's put her body through, the girl can still sell sex when duty calls. Granted, it's been calling for quite some time to no avail, but boy, did she deliver here. When you have natural gifts like these, your career is six feet under, and you are a walking herpes blister, exposing your breasts as often as possible is about your only hope for staying out of financial turmoil and DJ booths. Lindsay, I know a great agent. He gives great career advice. His name is me.
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