Back in 1998 or so I remember reading a particularly disturbing Savage Love column and being so grossed out I had to call everyone I knew to share the story.
My friend Lisa says she has a permanently infected section of her brain dedicated to the disgusting things I’ve told her over the years. I think it’s funny but sometimes I wonder if I’ve really traumatized her. I don’t mean to cause brain damage, I just like to relay the beastly and distasteful – it’s my schtick.
The Savage Love story was about a guy who had a peculiar fetish and he wondered if he was at risk for disease if he continued to indulge his desires. He liked to visit penny movie booths (think “money shot”) after they’d been patronised. He liked to cleanup…with his tongue.
I know that hurt a bit. But I believe in community standards. If I can read it in the back of a weekly rag it’s fair game for me to share with you. So deal!
Today I had the similar impulse to share when I came across a tidbit about Jack Osbourne that made me gag some. Hanging on his wall, as an art piece, are Kimberly Stewart’s old breast implants. (Kimberly is the spawn of Rod in case you’re like everyone else and didn’t know.)
It’s difficult for me to comprehend how the rich and famous process life and what becomes the norm for them. To me, every path taken to assemble that piece of pop culture fluff is disturbing: being the offspring of Ozzy/Rod is unusual, being famous because you’re offspring is stupid, breast implants are sick, having your breast implants upgraded/downgraded is horrifying, keeping your downgraded breast implants is abnormal to say the least, framing them and giving them to ANYONE FOR ANY REASON is nutty and hanging breast plant art on your wall is a tad mutant.
It’s definitely unique, I’ll give Jack that. Weirdo.