The Cranking Hour
I was up this morning at 5am. I was up before Lindsay Lohan left the party. At 5:30am. She has nothing better to do.
Some time last year I was on my way to studio and listening to Jim Rome on the radio. The dumbasses in Vancouver decided to take him off the air for a while and he’d just been brought back. He was discussing yet another genius professional athlete who went out one night and got arrested. It happened at 2am. And while there was still at that point a lot of uncertainty and speculation about what really went down, Rome’s point was that “nothing good ever happens at 2am”. It’s the witching hour. Or in Lindsay Lohan’s case, it’s the cranking hour.
As you can see, she needed a police escort to accompany her out of the party. The police should have been escorting the contents of her purse down the f-cking toilet. There’s been some controversy lately about illegal prescriptions and a drug ring. Not that Lilo would have anything, anything at all, to do with that. She bailed on a cactus because the paps were all over her. She bailed on a cactus because she was stone cold sober and was inhibited by aggressive photographs. Sure.
Photos from Splashnewsonline.com