The tiniest violin wails for you, Suicide Girls...

I recently read some article in Jane Magazine about the Suicide Girls and how some girls were complaining that they had originally thought they would be working for a cool guy, who wouldn't treat them like they were run-of-the-mill porn stars, but then he blew their minds by treating them like he thought of them as run-of-the-mill porn stars.

To this, I have to say, I'm OH-SO-SORRY that you ladies were mislead into thinking that you were going to be able make money to support your cost-of-living expenses (i.e., new and exciting tattoos and/or piercings, weekly visits to your hairstylist for dye jobs and bang trims à la Betty Page, obligatory Saturday night punk rock shows,...) by laying around all day and having your picture taken.

Tis a cruel, cruel world indeed. Next thing you know, you poor things will be forced to be...GASP...office monkeys!

Welcome to my world, bitches.