Leggings Lohan Has Her Leggings Back!

Oh, it’s been ever so sad lately!

The weather in LA is warming up, and Lindsay’s has little excuse to wear her leggings — she’s been sporting a series of little dresses instead.

Thank goodness she’s in NYC now, where she can pull them back on, and the world can have an extra layer of fabric between themselves and the Lo-gina. Here she is leaving a Greenwich Village spot called Bar Pitti.

Why is she in NYC, you ask?

Oh, no reason, really, it’s just that some people decided to make a fucking photo exhibit out of her tattoos and she’s in town to host the opening night. Yeah, you read that right. Lindsers selected pictures from her favorite photographers — photos she feels “represents the mood behind her tattoos” — and they’re doing a freaking art exhibit about it. Her tats include “La Bella Vita” on her back, and the word “breathe” and a star on her wrist.

My goodness. She’s a living work of art. Seriously? Those aren’t, like, particularly artistic tattoos. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with them, I just don’t find myself thinking, like, “I’d really like to delve further into why Lindsay Lohan has a star on her wrist.”

One of my best friends got her ears pierced this weekend, and I went along for the ride. We went to get them done at a tattoo parlor, and they had all sorts of tattoo options on posters on the walls. I had plenty of time to wait, so I looked over them all. Some were cute, some were cool but not appealing to me personally, and some were absolutely disgusting. One was the word “Bitch” wrapped around — no joke — a tampon, string and all. Another said “Suck Ass” and was a picture of an ass, a cock and balls, and a straw sticking out from the asshole. I asked the tattoo guy, “Do people actually get shit like this tattooed on their bodies?” He said yes indeed. He said one girl came in and requested a faux necklace tattooed around her neck, like a pearl necklace, except, instead of pearls, she wanted penises. He said she already had tattoos on her back of swastikas made out of penises. I really could have vomited right then and there. No joke; I felt physically ill. This is not a person I have any desire to meet. I consider myself to be fairly open-minded, with a willingness to accept people’s chosen lifestyles, but when you’ve managed to combine Nazism and penises — and identify with the combo via multiple permanent body alterations — I don’t think we can ever be friends. Rather, I wish you’d leave my planet and never return.

The point is this: if you’re going to do an art exhibit about someone’s tattoos, is Lindsay Lohan really the most interesting choice?

And the kids clamoring with excitement for Lindsay?

I’m going to let you guys handle the snark on that one.