Here’s Criss Angel and his new “girlfriend” in Mexico yesterday, and I love how Criss, who’s typically dressed to the nines as some form of magic goth/emo douche, lounges around with his gut hanging out while texting on his BlackBerry. In daylight. Quick, someone confiscate his black nail polish. He’s not sad and tortured inside.
NOTE: When I said “girlfriend” earlier obviously I meant prostitute. Just so we’re clear.