There's no denying that Dorrell Sausage is hot 'n' hunky. His semi-famous name and chiseled mug have been increasingly featured in the rags lately, thanks to a string of high-profile romances. And this ain't by accident,
damn straight.
D.S. went from dating a cute, fairly well known chica to supposedly seeing Pixie Mixie, tabloid darling. See, the D-man wants to be (more) famous himself, imagine that in this me-me-me enclave! And after a halfhearted stab at the spotlight on his own not so long ago (prior to Pixie time), it seems Mr. Sausage--a somewhat cognizant realist with thin lips, thicker things elsewhere--realized it's way easier to get press when you're attached to an It creature.
Indeed, Dorrell's latest cutie-coupling has gotten tab headlines, fer sure. "It's getting serious!" all the rags proclaim, alongside pics of the two honeys holding hands and swappin' spit.
Howevah, just reminds me of one of those Teri Hatcher spreads--all pose, no meat to go with the paparazzi potatoes.
See, Dorrell has been sober for a while, even though he "used to drink entire bottles of tequila," said one of D.S.'s ol' imbibing buds. Nevertheless, Mr. Sausage has since cleaned up his act and is now busy denouncing drugs and hard partying. More unhungover intrigue: Pixie is D.S.'s sober sponsor, which explains why they're spending so much time together.
"They're really just friends," according to my chemical-free source.
But this tricky twosome so knows that playing coy with the press and letting themselves be linked equals double the headlines and even more media attention.
Seems good old-fashioned fame is the real drug of choice for both of them these days!
Oh, and if you need the usual fornicating-where-one-shouldn't-be stuff (as if last Friday's mailbag from adventurous and horny readers wasn't enough), then let me leave ya with this gross thought:
Bitchy Snitchy, no stranger to these smut-tarred pages, is not only unapologetically stepping out on his spouse (not his first, either), he's stepping out on his stepping-outtee! The Viagra-powered nerve.
Not half as nervy as the fact that all of the female steps, as they might be, work for B.S. Turd.