Archives for posts with tag: Levi Johnston

Well, ask and you will receive!  My night with Levi Johnston (and Tank).  Also met Clint Eastwood who complimented my cowboy hat but thought my scarf looked like a tablecloth.  The woman in the picture is my great love Sharon Swart from Variety.   I had a blast.  Wish it had been bright enough to take more pictures.  EVERYONE in Hollywood was there.  Perfect night.  Quentin Tarantino (difficult to talk to), Eli Roth, the cute girl from V.  Endless other agents, producers, James Franco‘s lil brother Dave Franco.   Left at 11.30 in bed by midnight up at 5 for radio tour for Sex Rehab.  This is why we move to Hollywood right?  To meet a legend like Clint?  To hang out with him on a sofa at a party and learn about what was.  My Levi infatuation is over now. It was fun whilst it lasted.  I mean!  It was great.  He has meaty arms and a sweet smile.  Here I go again..whoa.

Complicated past few days.  Trannies.  Dog bites.  Shady friends.  Shady tenants in Malibu house.  Gardeners who do half of what is agreed then expect the full amount to be paid. Why do they do that?

Todd’s dog bites uninvited friend of friend in house and worries about insurance.  Calls 50 friends for advice.  Finds suppositories in friend’s wash bag.  What a fucking BORE.

Breakfast and partial lunch at Chateau.  Breakfast with a British writer who wants to write about child abuse.  He also advises minor members of the Royal Family on how to become celebrities.  I have no truck with British aristotrash-however broken they are.  I simply don’t trust them.   He could have been a journalist or worse special branch-our FBI/CIA.  He bought me huevo rancheros for breakfast.   Stuck around the hotel for 12.30 partial lunch appointment with Israeli addiction specialist-far more interesting than the British man with an uncertain novel.

Thrilled by this: I am going to meet Levi Johnston tonight at GQ man of the year party.  Will post pics if I can get them.  Fuck Clint Eastwood, Paul Rudd and the Hangover boys.  I am gonna meet my Pricilla from Wassilla.  Just try stopping me.

Trannies, stolen cars, straight men who like it hard up the shitter.  These are a few of my favorite things.  Actually not but this is what happened:   Drunk straight man ‘friend’ of ours picks up tranny who fucks him then steals his car.  LMAO!!  Reminds me of a film by John Walters.

Luna has been house trained but still bites holes in the truck upholstery.  Any ideas how to stop her chewing?  I may have to put a big bone in the car.  Two big bones.  One for each dog.

Lunch with Dan at Pali House.  ok steak.  Not great.

Must choose outfit for tonight.  Dior I think.

I am really very excited about seeing Mr. Levi Johnston in Playgirl magazine.  Just previewing his phat hairy pits was enough to get the blood rushing to my loins.  He is, after all, the ideal husband.  Dumb, sexy, provocative.

Levi, guilessly picking his way out of a life littered with Christian fundamentalists, arrested drug fucked mommy, republicans, bible study, GOP, McCain, Hannity, Palin praying on her padded knees.  Never looking back.  How effortless was that?  Their snide remarks like water off a sitting ducks back.  He just keeps on moving.  He appears with Kathy Griffin on Larry King (whiskey on her breath and cheap perfume).   He is confident; he never looks askance as the gay man dressed in Kathy Griffin’s old body paws at the young boy with cheap innuendo.  He just sits there patiently for the moose to come then with stealth he just blows us all away.

Levi is my hero.  19 years old.   Giving us exactly what we want when we want it.  Want damning Palin gossip?  He got it.  Wanna hear the truth about Bristol?  He’ll tell you.  Want to see his perfect butt?  He gonna show it.   Oh Levi.  Only in America could you become such a star.   You are the patron saint of US Weekly.  The divinity we non-Christians have been waiting, longing for.  A regular St Sebastian (lite) already smite with arrows.

I think I may be in love with you-and I know that you wouldn’t care.  You are modern enough to realize that me loving you, lusting after you cannot possibly hurt you.  You would spread your cheeks for me as long as I didn’t touch your pink rose bud.  I just know it.  Unlike the puggish, too perfect Taylor Lautner you, my darling, are quietly aware of your masculinity.  Taylor, go fuck yourself.  Levi would whip your bubble butt.  Then rape you Wassilla style with the butt of his rifle.  Oh..maybe not.

Levi..you are a flirt, a seducer, a media sex God.  When you ain’t St Sebastian you are Helen of Troy, when neither of the above you are simply Levi.  The boy who wouldn’t lay down and die.  Refused to be used.  The clean-cut kid who took hold of America and savagely kissed us all with your plump, teenage lips.  Drowning in our lust.   The boy who can’t say no.  The boy we all wanted or wanted to be.

Sarah Palin is praying for you Levi.  I am praying for you.  Your peers are praying that you make a fortune.  That you get the girl.  That you love every second of your fifteen minutes.  After all, you can always go home to Alaska..if everything goes tits up. Your people are Christians folk-they’ll forgive you-they’ll forgive anyone anything as long as you give yourself to Jesus.  It’s in their DNA. It’s the fucking LAW.

I think, yes I am sure..I love you.