Today is Anna Nicole Smith's Birthday. If she were still with us on this pink and frilly earth, she would be 48.
No one gives this goddess enough credit. Women get shit on for choosing to be the bimbos we are continually coaxed into being because of porn, patriarchy and the uninventive male libido.
My girl Anna turned the life she wanted to live into straight up cash money:
She pulled the ultimate ripper move and met her old-as-hell/rich-as-fuck husband in the club!
(If you think you can tell me that this man doesn't look happier than a toddler who just discovered his penis for the first time, you can stop reading right fucking now and never come back to this sacred blog. J Howard Marshall lived his Best Life.)
Anna Nicole Smith is the OG Lady of Leisure that puts the Kardashian clan to shame. She didn't even have to suck dick on film to get there! (Sucking dick on film is fine; paying out your pimp-mother a 50% finder's fee, in my humble opinion, is less fine).
Anna did it the classy way: she posed for Playboy.
She discovered a mathematical equation more useful than E = mc 2!
"1 man + 2 beers = $20!"
Her ripper-feminism was on point.
And she loved animals.
I never knew you, Anna... but girl, how I love you. Rest in peace, you fluffy queen.