Since there's no consequences to be paid in the life of Lindsay Lohan, no matter how badly you fail to meet the standards of your extremely lack punishment for a theft that might ruin a normal person's life, why not spend your first day free from the confines of your Venice beach house, forced to luxuriate and sit around tanning all day, by clogging Hollywood Boulevard with paparazzi as you revel in your new liberty?
Lohan--or possibly a 65-year-old woman pretending to be her--hit up the Lexington Social House in L.A last night with Emile Hirsch. NO. Great, now he's been tainted forever. As throngs of paparazzi cluttered around to help maintain her slight modicum of star power, Lohan stumbled through the crowd, fueling rumors that she'd been drinking. Now, previously I would have said something like, "Oh, see how well you walk in a huge crowd of people flashing cameras in your face and screaming at you," but now I say, "That ho was probably wasted," because she doesn't deserve the benefit of the doubt.
Dozens of pictures of a haggard Lohan, whose facial structure is just plain weird at this point, teetering with a dazed smile on her face, reflect what she's really drunk on: attention. She should start hanging out with that 95-year-old Benjamin Buttons chick who is really 16 and married the guy from Lost who was also a really creepy liver-stealer on the X-Files. The two of them can be like Awakenings or something.
I can't wait until my downtown commute becomes impenetrably impossible after Lohan starts working her community service at the Los Angeles County Morgue.