“Are you hungry?” asked Rosario Dawson. “Always,” I replied. “Then why don’t you eat a dick?” she giggled, and danced out of the room.
I want to die right now, please.
When I go to Heaven Rosario Dawson and I will host many fine dinner parties. This is where I write about those dinner parties.
With myself. And Rosario Dawson. And you. And angels.
I cannot wait to die.
Rosario Dawson Loves Me is the result of one horrible breakup and a small ocean of whiskey. Each issue is approximately 15,000 words long (complete with swell pictures of clouds and Rosario Dawson) and available for purchase, for the staggering price of $3.00, at Quimby's bookstore in Chicago's Wicker Park neighborhood, or from me, wherever I might be.
My name is Justin Valmassoi. I write it.
My other really fantastic, totally not insipid and borderline retarded 'zine is HERE.
You look very pretty today.
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