Friday, August 15, 2008

Fuck That Guy as well.

This is going to hurt me infinitely more than it hurts him.

Fuck George Clooney.

And fuck his happy Oscar accepting moment.

George, you fucking salt and pepper haired perfect toothed basketball playing charming charmer joke telling bastard.
Where the fuck do you get off giving women hope?
You are probably the biggest asshole in the universe.
Why do you even exist?
To hurt our collective feelings?

You happen to be visually perfect, not to mention obviously funny, smart and talented.
Oh wait, you're also ABSURDLY rich and fun loving.
I forgot, you also had a pot bellied pig as a pet for like 15 years and you are probably an ace in the bedrooooooooom.
Interesting how you REFUSE to get hitched.
Or procreate.

Because you simply exist to remind women that all great men really don't give a shit about us anyway.

You would much rather spend your free time shooting the shit with Brad Pitt in your fucking Italian palace, smoking highly illegal cigars and tanning your godlike torsos.

Actually I think I know why I hate you.
You're an Irish boy from Kentucky.
You are one of the most liberal actors in Hollywood.
I think the tetonic plates split open creating an alternate universe where people like you happen without God peeing in his pants.
I hate you so much that my heart hurts and I want you to rip it out of my chest, examine it with your ER skills, and put it back for me.

Sometimes I google you, and I get a little stomachache because I realize there is only one of you, and we are never going to get to make out.
Then I want to get your cell phone number, call you up, and tell you you're a fucking asshole for dating an obviously retarded Vegas waitress who probably loves cocaine more than she loves her own mother and masturbates to her reflection whispering, "yes yes you ARE the future Mrs Clooney"

No bitch, you're not.
He broke up with you despite the fact that your body is rad and you were probably tons of fun.
NONE of us will ever be Mrs Clooney because this has all been a joke on us.

Oh, here you are with your ex Renee. Hm, you're still pals. Just so you know, when you pet her hair like that, her insides rip apart and she aches with the memory of your touch and wants to kill herself for somehow losing her grip on you. So great job on that.

No matter how many motorcycle rides he takes you on, no matter how many martinis he buys you, no matter how many nights you spend in his snuggly gigantic bed in Lake Cuomo enjoying the smell of George Darling wafting over the nice breeze coming in off the veranda....
You will never get him.
I will never get him.

George Clooney will never walk into my apartment in this suit, wiggling his tie back and forth to loosen it up.
Right after i typed that, the things in my mind I thought about doing to him are completely innapropriate, even for me.
So I don't really want to talk about this bullshit any further.

Fuck you George Clooney.
Because not fucking you...isn't something I can bear to think about.

1 comment:

Kate said...

the first two fuck-that-guys left me with glee.

this one leaves me with a sad gaping chasm in my soul.

damn it.