There’s more going on here than meets the eye. Lots more. We call them “thoughts,” and we rounded up a whole day’s worth, courtesy of Miss March 1999. Here are some choice nuggets from the mind of the Playboy Playmate:
“Yuck! This is the worst taste I could possibly have in my mouth. I feel like I ate some doodie. Why am I saying doodie?”
“Where is my baby toenail? How the hell did I rip that off? That hurts like a bitch! And now the French part is gone. Terrific.”
“Damn, that was such great sex last night! Once again, perfect. My legs hurt. I did all the work. But that’s good. It’s fine with me, good for the abs and ass.”
“I could sell used panties on eBay. Maybe that would pay for the Benz.”
“I hate women who hate other women. I don’t like other women sometimes, but only if they’re neurotic maniacs. They hate me first. I think I am more like a guy.”
“I love the way Sade sounds when you jack it up.”
“I have to stop saying any bad words for the next four hours. Sometimes I think I have Tourette’s. Once I start, I can’t stop—it’s a downward spiral, me and naughty words.”
