Sloppy, shameful mess
Here's a riddle for you: You're a world-famous celebutard/tante whose only claim to fame was a smarmy little sitcom in which your character was killed off because the cast and crew hated your guts so much.
For a while you were still getting your picture taken everywhere you went, so the designers kept giving you clothes to wear, and the world was your oyster. Party on, Mischa. Make your little sister proud.
Only now the phone isn't ringing so much. You've had to go all the way to England to get work. What's a girl to do? Simple. Expose your naughty bits. Come on, it's not a big deal - you've done it before. More than once.
Next time, though, try to lay off the stimulants before doing your walk of shame. Then you might be able to feel your nipple polishing your escort's sleeve.
