Dear George, (nah)
Dearest George, (uh-uh)
Darling George, (getting close)
My Dearest Darling George, (yep that covers it)
I have been pondering our predicament for the past few days. I have finally realized the reason none of my prior relationships did not work out was because, well, that just were not you. And when I look at the countless beautiful women you run through, I can only assume that means you are indeed waiting on me. They, of course could not satisfy your wit, intellect and of course your (what I hope) sexual prowess. I want you to know I will stick with you till Ocean's 28, and I will wait for you at your villa at Lake Como in Italy. Yes, I would be willing to wait for you day and night in the Villa by the sea. I might get lonely from time to time but I think I could suffer through waiting for you in the Villa. When you crash your motorcycle, I will be the one to take care of you ( and not the way Kathy Bates took care of James Caan in Misery). I will be there on Oscar Night when you win 3 golden statues, best actor, best director and best picture of the year... You want to go to Darfur, color me there. I am all about humanatarian work, I might not be able to spell it but I will sure do it if that would make you happy. But I have one request, it is a small one but a very important one.... If you want to be like Brad and Angie and have a half a dozen kids, we gonna need at least two or three nannies. So let's call our lawyers, sign our prenup and start the rest of our lives together.... or at least a good 45 minutes to an hour...
Note to Self: If they are not George Clooney...why bother?
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