Well, crap.
Dear Orlando Bloom:
Regarding today's picture in which you were working out in a gym in South Africa whilst shooing a movie, I can only say GAH!.
You're a cruel, cruel man. Here I am sitting with a uterus three days away from a total abdominal hysterectomy and you show up with your facial hair and your curls and muscles and your smile and my enlarged fibroided clot filled uterus starts seizing up like a car that hasn't had it's oil changed in 20,000 miles (Much like any car my mother drives). I mean, really? REALLY?
I mean, first you throw down the God Awful purple sweatpants:
I mean, those were enough to make my vagina rappel down my leg and run off to go run a craps table in Atlantic City so it would never have to contemplate you again.
Then you pull out the neon yellow jobbies:
Those were like the "FINISH HER" part of Mortal Kombat except it was on my libedo. And I was okay with that. Dwayne Johnson has been VERY accomodating with the smiles and muscles and such things.
But now you're back to work (and by work, I mean actual work, not photo ops with your wife). And Jesus, you're kind of hot again. And you're in a movie that is going to have lots of you nudity and love scenes and may actually let you show off the acting chops that no one else thinks you have but I've seen in "Ned Kelly" and the Director's Cut of "Kingdom of Heaven". And for a variety of medical reasons, I can't handle it. It's kind of painful, frankly.
So, in short: Orlando Bloom, FUCK YOU. DOUCHEBAG.
Regarding today's picture in which you were working out in a gym in South Africa whilst shooing a movie, I can only say GAH!.
You're a cruel, cruel man. Here I am sitting with a uterus three days away from a total abdominal hysterectomy and you show up with your facial hair and your curls and muscles and your smile and my enlarged fibroided clot filled uterus starts seizing up like a car that hasn't had it's oil changed in 20,000 miles (Much like any car my mother drives). I mean, really? REALLY?
I mean, first you throw down the God Awful purple sweatpants:
I mean, those were enough to make my vagina rappel down my leg and run off to go run a craps table in Atlantic City so it would never have to contemplate you again.
Then you pull out the neon yellow jobbies:
Those were like the "FINISH HER" part of Mortal Kombat except it was on my libedo. And I was okay with that. Dwayne Johnson has been VERY accomodating with the smiles and muscles and such things.
But now you're back to work (and by work, I mean actual work, not photo ops with your wife). And Jesus, you're kind of hot again. And you're in a movie that is going to have lots of you nudity and love scenes and may actually let you show off the acting chops that no one else thinks you have but I've seen in "Ned Kelly" and the Director's Cut of "Kingdom of Heaven". And for a variety of medical reasons, I can't handle it. It's kind of painful, frankly.
So, in short: Orlando Bloom, FUCK YOU. DOUCHEBAG.