Trollop Tuesday: Guest Post

Kittens--

Please give a warm Sweet Tea welcome to a guest blogger, POW! Take it away, POW! (Sorry in advance for all the font issues--blame it on my drunkenness stupidity.

Dearest Bleaders,

I’m writing on behalf of my wondering “Corn Pone,” who you all may know by another term of defamation endearment “Sweet Tea.” First, to all of you who lashed out at Sweet Tea for not posting a blog last Tuesday, I have some responsibility to bear. While having our illiterate toothless bumpkin princess of prose over for dinner during the holiday weekend, we came up with the idea (actually I did, but like Elvis did to Little Richard, all white people take black people’s ideas and become more successful) of dedicating a day of the week to celebrity trollops. Unfortunately, Sweet Tea got rufied fell into a deep sleep, posed for some artistic and tasteful photos (check the Internet y’all!), and woke up under the stars (I dropped her off in the driveway of a local hospital). As for celebrity trollops, you know who we mean…those talentless celebrities who go far beyond acceptable acts of stupidity and self-indulgence to gain additional media attention and stretch that 15 minutes like the elastic waistband in John Candy’s underwear. Oh! Sorry, too soon? And so, we bring to you the first edition of Tuesday’s Trollops.

Nicole Elizabeth Polizzi sounds like a good Catholic, Italian-American girl with a svelte figure, olive skin, and long dark hair, who parents dream of having as a daughter-in-law. Instead, we have this 4’9”, foul-mouthed, orange-skinned Colombian Oompa Loompa posing as an Italian, with hair that most likely has vomit in it and an odor that can send good ole’ mom and dad running for the hills.

So why did we select Snooki as our first trollop? Have you seen this tramp in action? Snooki is an ariskank, creating masterpieces with her skankdom the way some artists do with oils and pastels. During the first season of “Jersey Shore,” (the “Guido-focused” reality TV show that serves as the justification for making Seaside Heights the next US military nuclear testing site) Snooki’s fame soared after being punched in the face by a NYC gym teacher for troubled children (side note: after being fired and unable to find a job, the teacher joined the US Army…the Army is not a recycling bin for B-list reality TV star abusers!)

Snooki, since that punch, has let loose on the world with a vaginal rage not seen since Britney Spears launched her storied “Airing of Crevices” during the Commando Fall of 2006. I guess showing your odiferous, creature- and disease-infested coupon hooker lady parts to the world is the next step in promoting your reality TV street cred, and our little trollop did not fail us. From drunken cartwheels in the street, to falling off bar stools, to disturbing the peace by fighting more sophisticated “guidettes,” Snooki has conducted herself with the style and grace of a sorority sister in “Girls Gone Wild.”

Don’t get me wrong, Snooki isn’t just a girl you wake up too after an evening of horrible decisions hot body, she’s got brains too. Often in the dooms of our finest universities, the Snooki’s quotes are debated and discussed like those of Aristotle, Hobbes, and Freud, and Conway Twitty. Her words are a fount of life experience, perhaps, the basis for a guidebook for the modern woman. Judge for yourself:

[Pick from these]

“I think my crotch is sticking out.”

“You look at me you think I’m like a stuck-up b*tch, but yet, like, veterinarian, like that’s my soul, like I f*ckin’ like, save animals, like that’s my soul.”

“Even though we’re tiny b*tches, I don’t give a sh*t. I will f*cking attack you like a squirrel monkey.”

“I call my vibrator the Elmo because, tickle me Elmo, ya know what I mean...”

“Remember I [masturbated] all day once, and the next day I couldn’t even move?”

“I hate the ocean. It’s all whale sperm. Everybody Google it. Because that’s why the water is salty. From f*cking whale sperm."

“The staircase is really, really small and the bed is really, really wide. And it’s kinda’ like an analogy of Vinny’s penis not fitting in my pin hole.” 

So as this inaugural blog on trollops comes to a close, there are a few nuggets that we should all take away when thinking of “the Snook.” She is someone’s daughter…probably the result of a drunken gropefest and a broken prophylactic…but someone’s daughter nonetheless. Parents, make sure your daughters don’t end up like this!

You are responsible for creating and deterring this kind of creature, so take action. A few preventative measures can save your daughter from becoming a Snooki. First, give her five to the face. While it’s old fashioned, it’s a tried and true solution, but it works. A taste of the backhand has never set anyone on the wrong course. Look what it did for Tina Turner after Ike served it up for dessert on a daily basis! “Private Dancer,” anyone? Second, make her wear metal underwear until she’s 25. Again, this seems a little antiquated, but the lack of air flow will create an environment so hairy and smelly that no man will want to go near her unless he’s got a Bigfoot fetish. Finally, a dose of acid in the face will cure any remaining hints of rebelliousness and will help her become aware of Middle Eastern culture. I’ve seen many a Middle Eastern father and husband use this remedy with great success; plus, it reduces the need for spending money on cosmetics during these tough economic times. So take heart, dear bleaders, although the Snooki Monster has tortured us for the past three years, we can prevent the emergence of future Snookis with little love and affection.