I have to say that I am a little bit happy that the big Hollywood Awards season does not seem to be working out due to the writer's strike.
Why Gina, you may ask, is that?
Is it because you are a huge supporter of unions and believe in the cause? Because the little guy should triumph over the big bad business moguls? Because the movies this year were really crappy? Or maybe you just aren't that big a fan of awards shows in general?
No, my friends. The answer is none of those.
The answer is HER
That bitch done stole my George. And the worst part is that she used to be some sort of stripper/cocktail waitress whom George has elevated into a stratosphere to which she simply does not belong. She went from having dudes ogling her boobs and ordering another round of Goldschlagers to George frickin' Clooney. How the hell did she do that?
I mean really, if that had been ME on the motorcycle that George crashed (she's bad luck George, you never crashed before SHE came on the scene) I would have never broken my damn leg. I would simply have leaped off and rolled, with alacrity and amazing grace. I never would have had the bad taste to actually get injured.
So a tiny (ok not so tiny) part of me is thrilled to not have to see her accompany him to all the awards ceremonies.
George, I ask you, have there ever been any awards ceremonies that were cancelled before you started dating her? The answer kind of speaks for itself, doesn't it George? I know honey, it's hard to hear the truth.
Get out! Get out before she brings down all of Hollywood, with Lake Como to follow shortly thereafter! Don't say you weren't warned!