Stunning. Fresh. Radiant.
One thing I know for sure after looking at these pictures of Janice Dickinson on the beach in Malibu yesterday is that when I’m 56 years old, I hope I too have zero fucks to give and will strut out in public no matter what.
Who cares if people won’t sleep tonight, because Janice looks like one of the cave creatures from The Descent in a two piece! Who really cares if scientists would like to poke at Janice, because she looks like a mutated piece of overcooked steak fat that fell in a vat of acid! Who cares if it looks like all the muscles inside of her body are scurrying for the next exit! Who cares if I was Jerry Hall I’d have the weirdest lady boner right now! Who cares if Janice is leaving people confused, because she doesn’t have a sales tag from Wilson’s Leather sewed onto the back of her neck! Who cares if the bottle of SPF lube I keep next to my desk for outdoor fapping just dried up when these pictures hit my screen!
Who cares, because Janice certainly doesn’t! And yes, if Janice Dickinson introduced herself to me as Iggy Pop, I so would.
