gabrielle union totally wants me.

who can blame her.

i save the world, my team is in the playoffs, people comment on my blog.

on paper, im the man.

but youd think that a big star like gabrielle union would want someone more powerful than just a blogger, but maybe not. maybe shes bored with guys with lots of money and fancy clothes and perfumed handkerchiefs poking out of their suit coat pockets.

she obviously wants a guy who knows the difference from html 2.0 and 3.0, as most of the fly bitches desire these days.

gabrielle union wants to talk about cascading style sheets, but you know what, if i had a dime for every hollywood starlet who wanted to talk about design and structure as just a sly way to get into my wranglers then id have, shit, four five bucks by now. easy.

i dont know why we still hang out.

gabrielle and i.

youd think its cuz of the sex, but the sex isnt all that out of the ordinary.

and she doesnt like my place much, so we always have to go to her house. in the hills. and chill in the hot tub.


and she doesnt like sports

or porn

or late night nerf basketball challenges.

and she doesnt read much. not anything any good, just scripts and trashy novels.

im trying to get her into bukowski but she keeps saying, im not you, i dont like this junk.

she likes classy things.

like the way i talk in my sleep in french.

or the way i tease her

or the way i make toast and butter and jam when shes hung over

the secret is cutting the toast diagonally

i learnt that one from my true love

who i will see on saturday

early in the morning


betsy + dancing + crispy duck + sara k doesnt even have to try to write better than i

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