The Sexist

George Clooney: Stop Fucking With Me

Okay, Cloon. First, you don't show at Milano. Then, you hit the Newseum without so much as a text message. Now, I have to learn from TMZ, of all places, that you've been coming to Washington to hang with Barack Obama? Ditch the loser, Clooney. My twin-sized second-hand Ikea mattress—luxuriously situated directly on the floor of my group house, underneath a generous pile of dirty clothing—is always open.

  • http://www.roisy.wordpress.com Roissy

    I appreciate George Clooney's alphaness. I wouldn't mind sharing a hot tub with him. Maybe we could go sailing together in the South Pacific. We would happen upon a small island and camp there for the night. He would catch some fish and I would gather some fruits and get water. Georgie (that's what I call him) would be tired from hunting and I would rub his shoulders. Then as the sun is setting, we take our clothes off and appreciate our alphaness.

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