What is it about Crazy Girls?



So hott. (image via newsoftheworld)

Intellectually, emotionally, ethically we know that when we were ogling those randy pics of Lindsay Lohan -- blind drunk, natch -- engaged in risky knifeplay with, of all people, Vanessa "Vanilla" Minillo we ought to have been outraged. Outraged! Any civilized, college-educated man ought to have been. And Yet -- the first thought that came to our depraved and bloggy minds is: Burning Hott.

But that doesn't make us a bad person.

Bijou Philips, for instance: Nutty as an Almond Joy. As, to be sure, is Naomi Campbell. We would gladly help Mariah Carey expand her five octave range in the boudoir if that dish-tossing freak would allow us. Courtney Love? We'd blast that. Bald-headed, crazy-Ass Britney? Blastworthy, to be sure; although she might just slide a shiv into our "sweetbread."

And yet, the very fact that they might -- just might -- throw a right cross to one's chops if one tried to break up with them? Hott.

God Bless Lisa "Left Eye" Lopez's crazy-ass soul (The Corsair intones "Allelueujia"). Burnt Andre Rison's house down to the ground. Sorry -- Hott.

We've always maintained that men who come from fucked-up backgrounds and don't overcome trend towards violent crime while women in similar situations head towards the San Fernando Valley (For further reference: see Jenna Jameson). Or Hollywood. Or Marilyn Manson's turgid bed (Eew). Not much difference with regards to the degredation Index.

No doubt a strong portion of this thusness of the attraction to the crazy has to do with the sex. Who knows of what a crazy chick is capable? Girls who throw punches at guys and weild cellphones like the jawbone of an ass prolly won't be prudish in bed. It is not improbably that that is how the rusty trombone was created.

Britney "Crazy Eyez" Murphy might just eat your liver with a fine Chianti while you are sleeping.

Still -- Hott.

So, let's all hoist one for the Crazy Girls.