A male Superhead?

I suppose it was only a matter of time before one of these book companies found a guy who fucked a lot of famous bitches and paid him to write a book about. It's just too bad it had to be motherfucking Ray J.

Of course I'm jealous, not so much because he once banged Kim Kardashian (I like my white chicks white, thank you very much), but because it's always been a dream career of mine to have sex with beautiful women and then write stories about it - even before I heard about this Ray J book.

I figure I'm already half-way home, having become a fairly prolific writer of stories. Now all I've got to do is work on the fucking part. Even if I can't pull trim on the same caliber as Ray J, I should be able to spin some good stories from it. I just need to work on the overall quantity.

For the three ladies who still read this site, you might want to holler at your boy. If you get in line early, I might be able to get you some points on my upcoming memoir, Tales from My Mother's Basement. It's sure to be a bestseller.

And yes, I realize that would more or less constitute paying for it, but whatever. Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Not that I'd be proud of it or anything, but I've already done my share of things that I'm not proud of, and I'm only 26. (Just like Ray J, interestingly enough.)

Speaking of which, it's not like eleven hundred women fucked Ray J just because they liked guys with tiny mustaches. In fact, I'm not even sure what's worse: having eleven hundred bitches fuck you for $50 a throw, or whatever the going rate is out in LA; or having eleven hundred bitches fuck you because your sister used to be famous.

I suppose the latter would be less costly, but I'm sure there's a certain satisfaction in knowing that you earned the money that you then use to convince a woman to have sex with you. It speaks to a man's deepest sense of himself biologically, where as I'm sure the former would be somewhat emasculating, though still satisfying on a level most of us will never experience. (Let's face it.)

Oh, and in case you're wondering, that's not even a typo. That figure comes straight from the story at BV Newswire, who broke the story about the Ray J memoir in the first place.

To wit:

The BV Newswire has exclusively learned that Ray J is in the final stages of completing his memoir, tentatively titled 'Sex Machine.'

[...]

Tales of having sex with more than 1,100 women will definitely raise eyebrows for the 26-year-old heart-throb who has been romantically linked to Whitney Houston, Lil' Kim and fellow author Karrine Steffans (a.k.a. Superhead).

I know, there's something just not right about the fact that 1,100 women would spread their legs for a guy who's famously primarily only for being Brandy's little brother, even if that figure is inflated by orders of magnitude. It'd be disheartening even to know that eleven women fucked that piece of shit.

Which is not to say that I'm definitely not going to read the book or, hopefully, find a way to read it without contributing to this douche nozzle's bottom line. My plan right now is to submit for a copy for review, since I am somewhat of a journalist and I have written my share of book reviews.

If that doesn't work I might just shoplift a copy from Barnes & Noble, but don't tell anyone. I seriously doubt that either my mom or the tIs at Harris Publications would be willing to put up the money it would take to spring my ass from the joint. And that would be snitching anyway, right?

At any rate, what I'll do is: I'll read it and then I'll excerpt all of the good parts here so that no one else has to read it. I know I'm kinda interested in hearing about banging a crack-addled Whitney Houston myself.