Ok so like since our first lesson about affairs went so well (your hands + another girl's tits + flash photography = n'uh uh), I thought we could just pick things up where we left off and continue to use Balthazar Getty as a shining example of the man I hope you never, ever, ever become (minus the piles of cash, of course).
Right.
So, last we checked, Balthazar had his hands all up in Sienna Miller's frolicking tits. While canoodling with this bitch on the Amalfi Coast (see pic above), his wife Rosetta was stuck at home with their four kids wondering what the fuck happened to her marriage as she watched this shit unfold on the internets and Us Weekly.
Again, we've covered this at length, but it bears repeating: If shit ever gets so bad with us that you've got "have an affair!" flashing on a neon signed billboard on the highway to your brain, lemme know, K?.
Like immediately.
Because like that shit is demoralizing...and embarrassing...and would seriously piss my ass off. And most importantly, you would t-o-t-a-l-l-y regret it...and then look like this when I left your ass stranded at the airport with no ride just like Rosetta did (yes...I'm serious).
Ok, so back to lesson #2: you've had the affair (DON'T tho...just talking hypothetically here), and now you've embarrassed yourself, me, our family and everyone on the planet with eyes. Then you wake up from this clusterfuck of a shituation, and you want me back...and want me back badly.
(from TMZ)
"Our sources say — and they are impeccable — Balthazar has resorted to e-groveling with his e-stranged wife, Rosetta. He has been sending her e-mails in the last week saying, “I love you.”
Uhm...ok. E-groveling is a start, I suppose...but again, you need to make a note NOT to follow Balthazar Getty's lead here.
Ur shit is gonna need to be ramped way the fuck up if you are ever in the position of needing to get my attention after public titty cavorting. This would be the time for creativity, unbridled enthusiasm and whacky "I'll do anything" to get you back stunts. (i.e. Kobe's got the right idea with this one).
E-groveling will barely register on my motherfucking radar.
Ok, so in summary: scandalicious, well documented affair + oceans of resulting regret = Cirque de Soleil, Superbowl Halftime show-type tactics req'd to get my ass back.
In the meantime, just say "no."
xo,
me
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