Her publicists must have begged for this. BEGGED. Because selling Rossum off as sexy is not just a stretch, it’s a tragic leap into a bottomless canyon. Dumb.
This is Rossum in the new issue of Details playing off that old fantasy – good girl who’s a vixen in the bedroom. Please. There is no vixen in Rossum’s bedroom. There is only sugar raping in Rossum’s bedroom. Her idea of porn is probably Wonder Years.
If you are suffering from the photos however they’re nothing compared to the article. I’ve just read the article and I want to hurt myself, lash myself across the back until the skin splits open and the blood starts oozing followed by rubbing alcohol and then salt, salt sprinkled right into those wounds until the pain becomes so unbearable I pass out only to be woken again by more beatings, this time someone with spiked knuckles gouging deeper into my flesh…
Only then, just maybe, will I feel cleansed. Only then, just maybe, I might be able to move on from the Rossum violation.
You need an example? I warned you…
She says she thinks a good place for a first date would be by the water, looking at a Ferris wheel.
And then… the crème de la Rossum. You ready for it?
Rossum on why she likes airplanes:
"I love to just stare out the window. This is going to sound so girly and romantic and awful—but every time I'm on a plane I have this daydream of two people dancing and holding hands and sitting on the clouds. I'm looking out the window and I'm like—" and here she exaggerates a flutter of her eyelashes and says these words: "Deep, long sigh."
You are punching yourself, aren’t you? Punch away. Keep punching until you forget.
Full the full Rossum article and the rest of the photos, click here.