"Levi Johnston Accepts Playgirl Offer to Pose"
. . . say whaaatttttttt? I mean, I've always heard that good things come in small packages, and I thought we were about to find out how good. (On a side note, f-that saying, save your small gifts for the homeless or the church collection plate, I don't have time for that shit.)
Anyway, of course, homeboy is going to be fully covered. Oh, no, that wasn't me complaining, must have been someone else; after all, I just read Playgirl for the articles anyway.
Further side note, I'm (not) sorry if this post makes me look the way I'm feeling -- like a creepy pervert, but for the sake of you, I'll continue. So, suffice it to say, I can't wait to get that
What's that? How can such an adorably classy lady such as myself get caught up in the white trash that is Levi? Psh, bitch please. The kid is a-fucking-dorable. Plus, I mean, we've all heard what he did for "love" (by which I mean, what Sarah Palin forced him to do with the end of her barely-used rifle) and gah, guys like that, the entertainment value alone is immeasurable. Think of how Levi would react to: "you've got a bad mouth, a bad attitude and a baby on the way" via text message at 4 am. Levi (I love saying his name) and I would be one big episode of Punk'd! Or like Newlyweds, but he would so have to be Jessica. I see an Emmy and multiple non-bastard children in our future!
And listen, I have a ranch in Texas, I can hunt and fish with the best of them, as long as there's some kind of alcohol and a splash of caution involved -- I'd never want to pull a Dick Cheney. I would lovingly press his jorts each morning as I packed him a sandwich in his little tin lunch box he would carry down into the mines (or whatever blue collar job he'd be able to score with an Alaskan middle school education) and we would just, be.
Homosexuals say that "one can't help who one loves" all the fucking time and I have to admit, I concur. Despite my high-class upbringing, the finest education, reading at an advanced level, belonging to Mensa as a child, and fine schools, the attendance of a public ivy and the fact that I have a Boston Terrier (otherwise known as the "Little American Gentleman") a pair of jorts just does it. So sue me.
So, Levi. You go girl. Milk your 15 minutes of fame for all its worth and when you're (almost) done being a D-list celebrity . . . call me.
So that leaves you and me, and while you're enjoying your Friday not really working as much as me, take a glance at Levi, I mean he cleans up well, right? And, to be honest, I still havent found a drawback, besides the obvious emotional baggage (I'm sure) he picked up after attending the Teen Choice Awards with Ginger Griffin. That shit is like taking Andy Dick home to meet your folks, trust me y'all, bad idea.
P.S. Kathy Griffin, despite the fact I don't care for your choice of haircolor, dress color, laugh, name or heritage, I will give credit where it is due . . . you are one middle-ish-aged, funny bitch.