Mariah Carey makes an appearance at fashion house Pinko in London. I don't know anything about Pinko, except that it makes me think of Alger Hiss. I do, however, know a lot about Plinko. In fact, it's my dream to go on The Price is Right and win thousands of dollars playing Plinko. I can hear it now - the sound of the little plastic disk dropping through the maze of pegs. That's music to my ears baby. And, of course, after I'm done winning, I'm going to run down the steps straight to Bob Barker and plant a big gay kiss on his lips. Probably give him a heart attack. Unless he's a total homo too, and drops down and starts sucking me off in front of God and Rod Roddy and everyone else (yes I know Rod Roddy is dead; so is God, and so would Bob be if not for the virgin blood he drinks every night). (BTW - I apologize for the picture of Mariah. I usually try to avoid posting images of total fricking dogs, but I was setting up my Plinko bit.)
