>>> Edited For Content
By staff writer Mike Forest
May 25, 2005
I’ve been crying myself to sleep for the past week or so. It has nothing to do with my lack of future plans, friends or food in my cupboards. It’s not because my whole family died in a wolverine mauling. I don’t even care that Reggie Miller had to retire without getting a championship ring.
My love, my one true one and only, is off the market again.
It’s just not fair. Why can’t I have the chance to win her heart? I’ve got all the moves. I’ve got “game” as you kids say. If you don’t believe me, just go back and read my Post-Valentine’s Day article or ask one of the hundreds—no, thousands—of women who have had the pleasure of my company.
They all mean nothing to me. Not like my Katie…and she’s slipped away from my arms yet again.
First, Ms. Holmes dated that twatbag, Chris Klein, for way too long. I almost slit my wrists when I heard that they were engaged. However, if Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that beautiful people only like to fuck each other for so long before they have to find someone else.
She was only on the market for a month or two before being snatched up (if there can be a pun made here, it was intended) by some guy named Tom Cruise.
Dear God, I promise I will never ask for anything again if I can somehow get in on that in a 3-way. Amen.
At least she traded up. Klein was such a Hollywood pretty-boy washout that it made me sick. Your 15 minutes are more than up, Mr. Klein. Please exit to your left and continue down the hall to purgatory. Oh, and take that dumb bitch Paris Hilton with you.
At least she’s with an older man. Classy move, Katie. They can teach you things…or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Right, Gabs?
Despite the fact that my world is ending, I need to remain focused for my public. There is a larger issue here, and it must not be missed.
Anyone remember the Demi Moore/Ashton Kutcher thing? How could you forget? This older woman was leaving Brice Willis and robbing the cradle! For shame! Sure, the MILF factor has more than enough sway to my make my penis stand up and applaud. I’m not denying that Demi is one kickin’ hottie. All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t have the balls to take Bruce Willis’ girl. All it takes is one “Yippee-ki-yay” and there goes my penis. My penis that can stand and applaud. What a loss that would be for women everywhere.
Out of curiosity, I checked the ages of the two couples. You’re gonna love this: According to www.imdb.com, Demi
and Tom were born in the same year. Katie and Ashton were too.
I don’t hear anyone screaming that my boy Tom is robbing a cradle. No one says he’s past his looks. This is the same guy that used to fuck Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz and probably every other even moderately attractive chick in Hollywood. He’s no slouch. Where’s the criticism aimed at The Last Samurai? Should he be called on the carpet for his risky business? Isn’t he past his days of thunder? Your sky has gone from vanilla to gray, Tom, my friend. Done. Finito. Close your eyes wide shut. It’s over.
Or is it?
Actually, this is all great news, because it proves to me that men still rule the world. We’re allowed to be sex symbols longer, date younger women as we grow older and above all, pee standing up.
“But, Beech. Other than peeing standing up, you and Tom are nothing alike.”
That’s not true. We both have facial hair too. Fuck off.
You females may ask, what’s so great about being able to pee while standing up? I’ll just answer with a smug shrug. Why don’t you go make me a sandwich. With Miracle Whip this time. I like the zip.
When in Paris…
In some clever segue that combines sandwiches, and the fact that she’s the opposite of my dream girl, let’s pretend I figured out a smooth way to switch horses midstream and talk a little bit about the girl I thought for sure was going to be old news a long time ago, but is still crashing websites: The one and only (Thank God) Ms. Paris Hilton.
I haven’t seen it (mostly because I couldn’t care less) but apparently, the disturbingly thin heiress is in a sexy, sultry, spicy, half-pound-with-bacon commercial for Carl Jr.’s, which I am told is a burger chain. No, they don’t exist in Michigan.
I think it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the woman has never eaten a burger in her life. In fact, I doubt she’s had anything but protein shakes in the past 20 years. WILL YOU JUST EAT SOMETHING? OPEN YOUR MOUTH. INSERT FOOD. CHEW. SWALLOW.
Execs seem to think it positive that so many people have been going to www.spicyparis.com to watch 65lbs named after the city of love swish, shimmy, gyrate and rub hamburger meat on herself.
The following embarrassing statement was copied and pasted directly from Yahoo: “It was a mixed blessing,” Carl's Jr.'s executive vice president of marketing, Brad Haley, said in a statement. “It turned out that Paris was too hot for our servers.”
Too hot for our servers? OMFG. ROFLMAO! (Insert every single smiley face EVER here.) I wish I could be so fricking clever! Not even our own Justin is as witty as this mofo. Tears. Really.
::Crickets looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind::
I’m sorry, I’ll stop I promise.
The question, is will it sell more burgers? That is, after all, the point of commercials: to sell. Brad, it’s great that your target demo of “young hungry guys” go to your site, but what you need to realize is that people are tending to their own pickles, not the ones on your burgers. They’re thinking about her bacon sandwich, not yours.
Remember, this is the same woman who tried to patent her slogan “that’s hot” in relation to perfumes, handbags and sexual devices. The phrase is now being used in reference to the spicy burger in one big ball of (what must seem like) supreme cleverness on the part of whatever mentally stunted ad exec came up with the spot.
The woman who made pocket-sized dogs in sweaters the rage (shudder) is famous for…dammit, what is she famous for? Let’s see, before the visual vomit that was “The Simple Life,” before the embarrassment to the English language that are her interviews, before being in our faces 24/7 flaunting her bony body, she was famous for having something shoved in her own face: some guy’s dick.
I’ll tell you, Mr. Adverting Guy, next time you want to use Paris in a commercial, why don’t you just buy the rights to a few seconds of the green-hued footage and superimpose a logo on her forehead. It’ll prolly be just as effective.
Thankfully, those watchdogs of American decency, The Parents Television Council, who slam everyone from Janet to Spongebob have gotten in on the action. Now that the Michael Jackson trial is winding down, I’ll be needing something else to fill my time. This fight should be interesting.
I sure hope those horses are okay.
Oh, and Katie, I love you. Call me.