Nuke Nicole Ritchie!

Okay, I have to vent.

I *HATE* Nicole Ritchie! I’d love the chance to go all ‘Passion of the Christ’ on her snooty ass.

There has not been a word created to accurately describe the intense feelings of loathing that I experience when I see her smirking face spread across any the magazine covers in the racks at checkout aisles. Everywhere you turn – there she is. The bitch is like a bad rash in a cocktail dress!

I am instantly driven with violent impulses to haul off and donkey punch her square in the puss!

Why is she so popular? She looks like a retarded mule, for fuck sakes!

I simply cannot believe the extreme fascination that the popular fashion and gossip media has with this skank. It’s shameful!

How did the daughter of Lionel Ritchie ever get to be such a trendy, snotty rich bitch “celebrataunt” in the first place? Lionel was never THAT fucking cool folks!

It’s not like you see Gino Vanelli’s kids running around acting all hoity-toity!

Lionel Ritchie? Whoopee-fucking-shit!

“Everybody sing,
everybody dance
Lose yourself in wild romance
We're going to Parti', Karamu', Fiesta, forever”

I’d have my head buried inside a paper sack if that was the seed from which I was conceived!

From the recent headlines I’ve seen, she’s apparently “cleaned up her image” and happily engaged to Adam Goldstein, otherwise known as DJ AM.

DJ AM? How lame is that? Who the fuck listens to AM anymore besides dinosaurs and maybe the odd senior citizen? What a throw down that must be – my brain hurts just imagining it.

“Oh, what a feeling
When we're dancing on the ceiling
Oh, what a feeling
When we're dancing on the ceiling”

I say: “NUKE ‘EM BOTH!” Of course, I wouldn't be opposed to a good 'ol fashioned drawing and quartering either, just for kicks.

They turn my stomach quicker than soured milk.