At long, long, long last, my dear closepersonalfriend Christeene has an EP for sale, featuring the naughty, jaunty “Fix My Dick”; the Mary-J-meth ballad “Tears from my Pussy”; and my personal favorite, the four-in-the-morning-k-hole experience otherwise known as “slowly/easy”.
Presumably you understand that neither the music nor the videos that accompany them are in any way safe for work unless you work from home, and even then, your walls should probably be well insulated. You know: Gladys Kravitzes are everywhere.
Anyway: let the buying begin!
And for those who’ve forgotten the wonder of Miss Christeene (and who’ve slipped Gladys a roofie), a little afternoon pick-me-up:
sturtle [dot] com 
Brilliant! The cheapest, trashiest, most tasteless performance I’ve seen in years. The ghost of Divine is green with envy. Watch out, Christeene. The feminists and sex worker advocates will be gunning for you.
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Christeene’s performance at last year’s Folsom Street Faire was so brilliant I will not coarsen it with description. It caused the the outraged bears and soi-disant leathermen in the audience to flee in horror.
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