Wow. My bad.
My publicist said this thing has “blown up” and I am “a horrible person” if I don’t say something to you. So, err, sorry. I know you got me that job in the movie. You were super cool all those times I swung by your house and sort-of pretended I was interested in you and your kids. (Off the record, I made out with your husband in the garage when you were changing the baby). But you were still totally cool. So, thanks, man.
You have to know that I am a miserable person, right? It’s been really tough dealing with this. I am rich, get anything I want, and teenagers and creepy sexually and emotionally deprived mothers worship me. Things have been pretty much an easy ride for me. So I had to mess it up. This was just an easy way to do it.
Anyway, bet you’ve got to get back to dinner or doing a load of laundry. Or whatever you do when you have kids and all that. I’ve got a team who does that for me. I don’t even have to brush my own hair or pick out my clothes.
Yeah, so yeah. Sorry, again.
*** This is made up.
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