I’m Not a Player, I Just Get Crushed A Lot
While on the subject of tragically sweeping heartache, I guess by now everybody knows that Kourtney Kardashian is preggers with that toolbox Scott Something-or-Other’s kid, once again dashing my dreams of landing her on my “fantasy team” and rendering one of the hottest (and dumbest) free agents officially off the market.
Great. Just great. First some spazzbot ruined any chance I had at “getting close” to Erin Andrews by sneaking into her hotel room… and now this?
Still, dear readers, let us remember that it is often in the worst of times that we find the truest and simplest joys in life. Sure, the Cardinals got swept in the NLDS. But hey, we’re not the Cubs! True, President Obama hasn’t solved US America’s economic crisis… or the health care crisis… or, well, any crisis. But hey, he’s not George W. Bush! And well, okay, Kourtney’s probably not gonna have my baby now. But hey, at least I’ll never have to face the awful task of actually listening to her talk for any length of time!
Not that I would have anyway, ‘cuz, well, y’know, hers is one of the most annoying voices “like um, y’know, like, ever or whatever.” I’m just sayin…
I think I’ll leave that opportunity to Mr. Krause. He’s always been the adventure half of RSBS.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m sly, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.