These pictures of Posh spice on the Runway for some Cavalli trashy bullshit fashion show are reminiscent of the time I dated a Real Doll. The only difference is that Posh spice knows how to walk, talk, make babies and do mass amounts of cocaine off her husband/soccer player’s abs. Either way, I wasn’t really in a love affair with a real doll, I could never afford that shit, and I wouldn’t get all freaky like showering the doll and taking the doll out on walks and fuckin’ dressing the doll up and sleeping with the doll because that represents some serious psychological issues. I would probably just get addiced to the pussy and I’d never leave my house, because it would be embarssing walking around with a real doll attached to your dick. That’s the kinda shit that gets you arrested.