Our lives are over, innocence has been lost, God is dead, etc., etc. Why, you ask?


Brandon Davis lied to us.





He was right about her being covered in freckles. He was right about the fact that we would not engage in sexual relations with her mother. Heck, he might even be right in his assertion that she's poor; we dunno her spending habits. But yesterday, after a cool breeze off the Venetian canals gently lifted the billowy fabric of her green dress, we learned once and for all that Lindsay Lohan is not a Firecrotch.

Call us crazy. Call us fools. But that crotch is not sporting flames. Not figurative flames of sexy, sexy heat and certainly not flames of actual russet pubic hair. That is one serious wax job. Or one serious Photoshop job. Either one, whatever.


There are roughly 5.2 billion more awesome Lohan peebug shots at the handsome and talented Egotastic!

UPDATE: Dag! That was one Photoshopped snatch after all. The good news is that those pink pantaloons look rather billowy, as if they're hiding . . . something. A colossal nether-'fro in a copper hue, perhaps?


And continue your Lindsay obsession at MrSkin.com.