
The first time I saw these Denise Richards Dancing with the Stars promos I found myself literally screaming at my laptop screen. It may seem extreme, but I find everything about this crazie terrifying. Actually, anyone who marries Charlie Sheen has to be pretty effing crazy. You don’t marry a man everyone knows is into hookers and God knows what else, and then cry about it. It’s like, “Oh, he likes trannies? Gee, who knew?”
An acquaintance friend of mine from my days at FSU is now Denise’s assistant, and I tried digging up some dirt on her, but he has morals and ethics and I couldn’t get him to spill the beans. Instead, he says she’s super nice and super cool. I don’t know what happened man, this kid was all rock ‘n’ roll back in college, and now he’s working for this attention whore. Good for him, I suppose. I hope he gets a fat-ass paycheck for having to deal with her ass all the time.
Anyhoo, whatever. This chick is more plastic than the Barbies I grew up staging threesomes with. And I’m not even talking about her externally. I’m talking about her as a person. Fake, fake, fake, fake. I don’t know her, but I’ll bet you five bucks and my hand around your wang that the only type of deep conversations Denise ever has is talking about how many inches she can fit inside her.
Promo shots in 3…2….1…. Continue »