I am Constantly Being Fooled By Rocks

I just received an incredible email offer. JLo's personal assistant wants my input on whether or not she should remain with Ben Affleck. So already, I have received a compliment, right. I mean, I am no Alicia Silverstone as Miss Match or anything, but I guess I know a thing or two about relationships if someone as significant as Jennifer Lopez wants my advice. I mean, I guess its technically her assistant who wants my advice, but I figure that she doesn't go far outside of Jenny from the Block's influence. I mean, I know the last three sentences have started with "I mean" but I mean, ccme on.

Beyond that, however, there is something that extends even further. Not only does JLo want my advice, she is willing to enter me into a drawing for 500 dollars just for answering that one simple question, is she better off with or without Ben Affleck. I can only assume that this 500 dollars is out of JLo's own pocket, some sort of a reward or bounty to be paid to her most worthy advisors.

So here is what I think I am going to say (technically, I only get the option to mark one of two little check boxes, one next to an image of Bennifer in a heart and the other of the same picture, only the heart is ripped in the middle, so that Ben and iffer are on differnt sides of the ripped heart, very clever): Jennifer, JLo, Jen, Jenny, baby, we have known each other for a while now. I remember those long nights in Brooklyn, sitting out on the step, sippin a bottle of Crys with Beyonce, Ja-Rule, and Ludacris. Those people who don't know us from those days might say that all the hip hoppers I just mentioned aren't even from Brooklyn, but what do they know.

One night I remember we took the low rider out so we could cruise down to the club. Your booty was all huge and shit and you were wearing some stupidly wrapped bandanna around your head. I looked in your face and told you the same thing then that I will tell you today:

"Jennifer, JLo, Jen, Jenny, baby: some day you will star in an awful movie with one of the Fiennes boys. It will be awful, truly truly horrible. I will go to see it and thus contribute seven more dollars to the Fund for the Destruction of All that is Good About the World. You will wear this dress, and though everyone will say it is beautiful it will actually be fucking hideous with this godawful bow thing going on in the middle of your chest. Its too horrible, I can't think about it anymore. The point is, if someone like Ben Affleck, the worst actor of our time who would currently be night manager of a Mass Turnpike Roy Rogers were it not for Matt Damon but is instead incredibly rich, though no one will ever be able to explain why based on the huge piles of shit that he turns out year after year after year even going so far as to drag decent actors like Samuel Jackson down with him into the pit, if he will stick with you through your shit, go with him. Ride him as far as it will go because the both of you are only a bottle of Johnny Walker away from your E! True Hollywood Story."

Thats my story, and I am sticking to it.

Peace,

MB-K