I came back for Scarlett. She wanted me to write again to make her happy because she's sad. But not for long. I told you that shit wouldn't last! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I think I summed up Mr. Reynold's deficiencies right after they got married with these words from sept. 2008, "I want to use her vagina as a pillow and wake up with vulva bed head. Can Ryan Reynolds offer her such romance? I highly doubt it, he's a fucking Canadian. He might rub her with a vibrating hockey puck but that's not romance. That's not love. No indeed, it isn't. I would love her so much, I would hand wash her underpants with my tears."
See? They were incompatible from the start. I wrote this of her marriage troubles in March 2009,
"She's been married now for what? Eight months and no baby in her tummy? Her obviously closeted homosexual husband Ryan Reynolds is clearly not all man. If I were her man she would be so filled with babies they'd be falling out of her ears, I'd knock her up so prodigiously she'd make octomom look like a California condor. There would be so many babies dropping from her she'd sound like a leaky faucet."
Exactly! I'm like Nostradamus except all of my predictions have to do with vaginas and giant tits. But this whole breakup was inevitable. Why would she want the tall, thin, attractive, movie star Ryan Reynolds when she can have the not so tall, not so thin, moderately attractive curse word writing Ted Velvet? Seriously, I'm a much better time than that movie star dick head. Hanging out with me is like hanging out with Jesus except I tell better jokes, drink and eat a lot more, do karaoke better and can work a ladies private parts like an X box controller. Scarlett and I are on the horny freight train collision of destiny. I am gonna stoke her fire set her ablaze and storm through her love tunnel with my chugging meat choo choo. I'm so happy I could shit.
0 comments:
Post a Comment