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Saturday, December 12, 2009

Oh, Dear God, Please, Pluueeezzze, Go Away! No, Wait . . .


Since I’m apparently the ONLY woman in America who HASN’T slept with Tiger Woods, I’m instructing my agent to get me an exclusive, fully-clothed photo-spread in Playboy, and book an evening with Larry King, wherein I can discuss how Tiger DIDN’T call me, so that fact alone makes me THE MOST EXCLUSIVE WOMAN IN AMERICA.

Then I’ll write a best-selling book, exposing all the times Tiger-Wiger DIDN’T text me, all cuddly-wuddly, and how that really makes me SPECIAL because I’m clearly the ONLY woman in America who ISN’T spilling all the intimate beans that didn’t go on between The Tiger Man and me. Plus, all those other women claim to have “loved” Tiger, which is why they’re tripping all over themselves to share their “love” with the rest of the world. Well, I say that simply makes them a dime a dozen, but not me. Nope. I didn’t “love” Tiger. No “love.” No phone call. Like I said, I’m special, exclusive, one in a trillion!

Then it’s off to Broadway for a musical version of “Don’t Kiss Me, Kate, I’m In A Sand Trap, Can You Hear Me Now?” a rousing song and dance show built around a huge cell phone – mine --- the ONLY cell phone in America that DIDN’T get a call from Tiger!

Then it’s off to the White House to get a Medal of Freedom and a swell dinner. Plus I’ll get to play with Bo. Heck, maybe get in a little golf with the Prez.

2 comments:

annerallen said...

LOL, Ann. My theory is that Tiger probably didn't get to be an a#%hole in high school--too busy training to be a genius.

So he postponed his a#%holedom. And now that he's a megastar, he had to be a mega-a#%hole. Moral of the story: high school kids out there: go out and be an a#%hole right now!

Churadogs said...

Plus, he was Stupid On A Stick as well. My Mommy told me in grade school and again in high school, Never put anything in writing that you don't want to hear read back to you out loud in a court of law. This was pre-text days. But it pertains.

Plus, in the old timey days, "fallen women" kept their yaps shut about their falling. Nowadays, they're all over Facebook with close up pictures of their fallingess complete with every tittle and jot. Followed by a book contract.

The other caveat with texting and emailing while you're canoodling and falling and being no better than you ought to be is this: Unless you're a professional writer, your mooning, heart-felt love-struck burblings to your newly found "soul mate" are always going to sound absolutely embarassingly idiotic. And you'll probably write your little love a poem involving the word "June" and "spoon." This is SOOOOO not good when read out loud in a court of law or on Larry King's show. And God help you if Jon Stewart get's ahold of it.