Let me just start that I am a big fan of your work. Most days, in between shifts at the rock smashing plant, I spend my time looking through photos of you on the Internet and thinking about how much happier you’d be with me, than your current husband Tom Brady.
Let me explain.
It’s true that Tom is at the top of his field, but, I can say with confidence that I am too. Spending all day smashing bigger rocks into smaller rocks, and then those smaller rocks into even smaller rocks and so forth isn’t as glamorous as playing quarterback in the NFL--even if you are, as I am, the best damn rock smasher in Bucktooth County--but it’s given me a grounded personality that I think you would find kind of cute. Plus, as they say in Beirut, “You haven’t made love until you’ve made love to a rock smasher!”
Also, I don’t mean to get ahead of myself, but I think Mr. I Have Three Super Bowl rings is cheating on you. Now he never responded to those letters I sent him, in which I posed as a 15-year-old girl, but just because he’s not a statutory rapist doesn’t mean he’s being faithful. Plus, he just looks like he’s cheating, you know?
I would be short-sighted in not addressing the disparity in looks between your current husband and (fingers crossed!) your future husband. So yes, he may be a little better looking than me. He may not have to wear an eyepatch (rock smashing mishap), or have a tattoo on his left pectoral that says “Juicy,” but many women find in me a certain charm. The charm of a pirate maybe--and what’s sexier than sailing the high seas of love with your very own rock-smashing pirate?
I also know that Tom Brady has a lot more money than I do. He can afford the finer things in life, like deodorant and... pomegranates. But you’re probably pretty rich too, from the modeling. So we’d have that money, plus whatever you could wrangle from Mr. Good Looking Football Star in the divorce--boom! I quit the rock-smashing plant, fulfill my lifelong dream of owning a store that sells hats with quirky, snide remarks on them (one idea: Hey, those are my figs!) and bone Gisele Bundchen--you.
This is going well already, don’t you think?
I feel like we’ve known each other forever.
If I said you had a beautiful body would you let me feel you up? (Haha!)
But before abandoning your family for a life with me in my apartment, I have a few questions to ask of you:
--Don’t you think Con Air is, like, the best movie ever?
--My apartment is pretty cramped already, so would you mind leaving your son with Tom?
--I can’t really afford a ring, so can we just use the one that Tom gave you?
--Can you bring a model friend for my friend Gary to have?
Thank you in advance, and I know we’ll have years of happiness together.
Love,
“Rock Smashin’” Eddie McRoyal
PS. Tell Mr. Dickface Three-Time Super Bowl Champ that the tuck rule is horse shit. Love and kisses!
No comments:
Post a Comment