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by db

Supermodel Suicide

Ruslana
The happy face of now dead Russian supermodel Ruslana Korhunova
I’m thinking of starting a band and calling it “Supermodel Suicide” – tell me that’s not the fucking coolest name ever?

Of course I was inspired by the story of 20-year-old Russian supermodel Ruslana Korshunova who graced the cover of Vogue in Russia and plummeted to her death on Saturday in Manhattan. For some pictures of the scene on the street check this out…

And I just read the excerpts from her blog (hilarity) - I mean is this supposed to give us insight as to why she commited suicide or as to how poor her English was or how lame her 20-year-old brain was?

Did you know that that in Borat’s homeland (Ruslana was actually from Kazakhstan) suicide is 3 times more popular than it is in the United States with teen girls - now you do….

Worst of all I found out that this hottie was dating a douchebag and that her previous boyfriend was also a douchebag….

So band rehearsals and auditions start in a week. Our first performance will be in Manhattan, we’ll be performing in the street. The middle of the street - on our backs….


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3 Comments, Comment or Ping

  1. dutchgirl

    i think the excerpts on her blog shows that this girl was very romantic and found it hard to deal with everyday reality.

    but that is not stupidity. that’s sensitivity

    please be a little bit more careful about what you say. i dont think your reaction is funny or refreshing at all, only very, very rude

  2. peter pan piper

    eh…..so if i write a bunch of extremely cliche phrases about a widely shared experience, and i keep them really short so they look like poetry, then i kill myself, do i get to be a supermodel?

    not to further offend the Netherlands, but this girl made quite a bit of money based almost entirely on the fact that, by definition of her trade, pretty much everybody wanted to invade her southern territories (a.k.a. fuck her; this parenthetical statement is rated R). could life get any better? i mean, i’m sexy as shit and could kill a jaguar with just my mind, but i’m broke as a joke and am only referred to as “super” when wearing my cape. my only solace is that if i committed suicide, a female paramedic would think, “that’s too bad. i definitely would have fucked that guy.” it’s those precious moments that keep me going….

    not to be a supporter of clog-laden terrorism, but, in all fairness, DB, you’re alias is the abbreviated version of douchebag. however, you’re secret is safe with me; i’ll tell everyone it stands for Doin’ Bitches….or Doctor Broccoli or whatever. you’re call……

  3. peter pan piper

    or Dingleberry Burrito…..

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