Uma, I feel your pain. Being stalked is tough. I know. I’ve left my fair share of fatal attractions in my wake. But, you know, being a stalker is tough, too. And let’s face it. Jack Jordan didn’t have much of a choice. I mean, the short, bald guy with the glasses. It’s almost as though — after 5000 made-for-TV movies — a guy like Jack has to become a stalker. Or at least play one on TV. It’s almost a career path. What color is your parachute? Well, I’m a 98-pound shrimp. My hair is falling out. I couldn’t get a date if it fell off the tree. I guess I might as well try stalking. Seems like the vocation for me. I know you believe I’m being insensitive Uma, but think about it. Have you ever gone out with a guy who looked like Jack? No way. You’re strutting around with tall, strong, follicly prodigious Arpad Busson. Handsome, slim, rich, and all that hair to boot. Pretty easy having a relationship with that kind of guy, huh, Uma? You want a real challenge? Open up and accept the Jacks of the world. Change begins with you, Uma. The Jacks of the world are waiting for the Umas of the world to open up and accept them. Uma Thurman, tear down this wall. (And, uh, when you do, you know where to find me, right?)
Tags: Arpad, Busson, Confession, David, Governor, Jack Jordan, New, Paterson, stalker, Thurman, Uma, York
May 7, 2008 at 4:14 am
I’m waiting for Uma to open up . . . if you catch my drift, and I think you do. Down at the Emperor’s club you can get a girl who looks just like Uma. Or one that looks like Halle or Gwynyth. Hey, if you have the cash, you can even get one that looks like Miley. Or Myley. Mylar. Whatever the hell way you spell it. If you’re into that kind of thing — and what red-blooded American man isn’t — they can get if for you. As I said, of course, you need the dough. Right now, I’m kinda strapped. The best I can I can afford these days is one of the lower-end models. She kinda looks a little like Barbara Walters. I try to keep my eyes closed. And my socks on. What can a disgraced ex-gov like me do? I’ll take what I can get. Unless. . . hey, Lieutenant, you wouldn’t be able to spot me 10 grand would you? For old times’ sake? You can get it from the state treasury. They’ll never know. All that dough in there? Who’s gonna miss it? Lemmee know. I’ll owe you one. -Spitz