RPF/RPS - Ari Gold's State of the Union Address
Some people just don't know how to behave and then I have to do things like this.
RPS/RPS
Ari Gold/whiskey bottle, Lloyd, various press items
Ari Gold's State of the Union Address
Ari Gold is having a bad day.
This can be perfectly illustrated by the large crack running down the side of his glass desk, the currently spidering glass of his floor to ceiling windows (apparently he can't get a chair through Plexiglass) and the bottle of Jack Daniels that he's not sobbing into at the moment.
Ari Gold does not cry. He just weeps loudly and calls for his wife.
It's not enough that Matt knocked up his beard again. Actually, Ari likes Luci, so he'll let her live. Luci is mostly unobtrusive anyway, except for pushing out adorable baby Damons. At least, she's nothing like the Hellbeast, but Ari can't hate on Angie too much, because at least she's keeping the Mid-West Fudge Packer from getting his claws back into George.
Of course, when Ari thinks of fudge-packing and George he can't help the keening and wailing that accompanies thinking of their child, Shia.
The child that George totally defiled by hooking him up with that spaghetti sauce pissing Sly Stallone Jr wannabe.
And God save him, because there will be murders over this one.
First, George turns their child into a shirt-lifting, ass muncher and then Shia gets dumped by a tie-clip wearing crippled dick-smoker and then he gets arrested for drunken and disorderly at Walgreens.
And it's not even enough that Ari had to suck the diseased cock of a PR representative at a convenience store to keep his child out of Cook County Sodomy camp, he told Shia to stay away from Ryan 'Bug Fuck Crazy' Gosling and nobody listened.
NOBODY FUCKING LISTENED!!
And what happens when people don't listen to Ari?
BAD SHIT HAPPENS!
Bat-Shit Insane managed to turn Shia from a pack-a-day smoker to a three pack-a-day smoker with his doggie-style skills, and wouldn't you know it, his little boy has now got a bench warrant for extreme stupidity.
It's the sort of fisted-up-the-ass shit that Ashton Kutcher would put on the movie screen, but mostly it's Ari's life.
Ari is not sobbing into his whiskey. Really. He's just depressed.
And also, apparently, he's got the hiccups.
As though that's not enough injustice, after sixteen thousand years, Ari managed to find a boyfriend for his most beloved G-Money, and then Anderson almost died. And he couldn't even have almost died in an African warzone, which would've been awesome press, no.
Instead, Anderson Cooper had to go under the knife for skin cancer.
Goddamn WASPS!
It's enough to make a good Jew lose faith in his miracle-working abilities and this is what has led Ari here. Praying towards Mecca with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and a slur to his words.
"Dear God, Yaweh, Buddha, Allah, Jehovah," Ari intones between hiccups. "I know you that probably doesn't exist, because there's no Supreme Being bigger than me" *hiccup* "but if you do exist, I am begging you to fucking take out that greasy Italian bastard at the knees like Tanya-Harding's ex husband! I promise you I will do it myself if you send me a lead pipe!"
*hiccup*
"Also, please don't kill Anderson, because if you do, I won't have anybody to help me look after George and then George will go back to Brad and I will probably run over Mel Gibson's racist goyem ass and get thrown in jail in distress."
*hiccup*
"Most holy power, that doesn't answer to Mrs. Ari, I need Anderson to take care of George, so they can adopt Shia and stage a fucking intervention and put a goddamn anal plug up his asshole with a lock on it! I promise I will be a better person and stop taking my bat to random cars in the CAA parking lot. I'll spent time with the wife and stop sending death threats to the Jolie Pitts and lusting after tranny hookers named Candis Cane!"
"Ari!" Lloyd's blow-job scratchy tenor interrupts Ari's prayers.
"Can't you see me praying for Brad Pitt to lick an anthrax-laced envelope, ass-licker!" Ari howls over his shoulder.
It's quiet for a moment, and when Ari looks back, Lloyd is giving him the pursed-lip gay glare. Ari sighs and takes a swig of whiskey. "Yeah," he pauses to hiccup, "what?"
"I've got Anderson on the phone for you," Lloyd says haughtily. "He says he's interviewing Barack Obama tonight and that they're going to talk to George about an intervention for Shia afterwards."
Only Ari would have a child who can't manage to get arrested for something good like dropping people out of hotel windows or riding a motorcycle into the pool at the Chateau Marmont. At least Anderson is turning out to be a good investment.
Barack Obama was Ari's first choice for George's Supreme Consort, since George thinks the sun shines out of his ass, but apparently Ari didn't have enough money to convince Barack to leave his wife for George.
Personally, Ari thinks George would've made an awesome First Gentleman, but he's just a little biased.
Ari looks down at the bottle of whiskey and then up at his ceiling. "Okay," he says to his higher power, "But you know I was just joking about the tranny hookers, right?"
-end-
RPS/RPS
Ari Gold/whiskey bottle, Lloyd, various press items
Ari Gold's State of the Union Address
Ari Gold is having a bad day.
This can be perfectly illustrated by the large crack running down the side of his glass desk, the currently spidering glass of his floor to ceiling windows (apparently he can't get a chair through Plexiglass) and the bottle of Jack Daniels that he's not sobbing into at the moment.
Ari Gold does not cry. He just weeps loudly and calls for his wife.
It's not enough that Matt knocked up his beard again. Actually, Ari likes Luci, so he'll let her live. Luci is mostly unobtrusive anyway, except for pushing out adorable baby Damons. At least, she's nothing like the Hellbeast, but Ari can't hate on Angie too much, because at least she's keeping the Mid-West Fudge Packer from getting his claws back into George.
Of course, when Ari thinks of fudge-packing and George he can't help the keening and wailing that accompanies thinking of their child, Shia.
The child that George totally defiled by hooking him up with that spaghetti sauce pissing Sly Stallone Jr wannabe.
And God save him, because there will be murders over this one.
First, George turns their child into a shirt-lifting, ass muncher and then Shia gets dumped by a tie-clip wearing crippled dick-smoker and then he gets arrested for drunken and disorderly at Walgreens.
And it's not even enough that Ari had to suck the diseased cock of a PR representative at a convenience store to keep his child out of Cook County Sodomy camp, he told Shia to stay away from Ryan 'Bug Fuck Crazy' Gosling and nobody listened.
NOBODY FUCKING LISTENED!!
And what happens when people don't listen to Ari?
BAD SHIT HAPPENS!
Bat-Shit Insane managed to turn Shia from a pack-a-day smoker to a three pack-a-day smoker with his doggie-style skills, and wouldn't you know it, his little boy has now got a bench warrant for extreme stupidity.
It's the sort of fisted-up-the-ass shit that Ashton Kutcher would put on the movie screen, but mostly it's Ari's life.
Ari is not sobbing into his whiskey. Really. He's just depressed.
And also, apparently, he's got the hiccups.
As though that's not enough injustice, after sixteen thousand years, Ari managed to find a boyfriend for his most beloved G-Money, and then Anderson almost died. And he couldn't even have almost died in an African warzone, which would've been awesome press, no.
Instead, Anderson Cooper had to go under the knife for skin cancer.
Goddamn WASPS!
It's enough to make a good Jew lose faith in his miracle-working abilities and this is what has led Ari here. Praying towards Mecca with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and a slur to his words.
"Dear God, Yaweh, Buddha, Allah, Jehovah," Ari intones between hiccups. "I know you that probably doesn't exist, because there's no Supreme Being bigger than me" *hiccup* "but if you do exist, I am begging you to fucking take out that greasy Italian bastard at the knees like Tanya-Harding's ex husband! I promise you I will do it myself if you send me a lead pipe!"
*hiccup*
"Also, please don't kill Anderson, because if you do, I won't have anybody to help me look after George and then George will go back to Brad and I will probably run over Mel Gibson's racist goyem ass and get thrown in jail in distress."
*hiccup*
"Most holy power, that doesn't answer to Mrs. Ari, I need Anderson to take care of George, so they can adopt Shia and stage a fucking intervention and put a goddamn anal plug up his asshole with a lock on it! I promise I will be a better person and stop taking my bat to random cars in the CAA parking lot. I'll spent time with the wife and stop sending death threats to the Jolie Pitts and lusting after tranny hookers named Candis Cane!"
"Ari!" Lloyd's blow-job scratchy tenor interrupts Ari's prayers.
"Can't you see me praying for Brad Pitt to lick an anthrax-laced envelope, ass-licker!" Ari howls over his shoulder.
It's quiet for a moment, and when Ari looks back, Lloyd is giving him the pursed-lip gay glare. Ari sighs and takes a swig of whiskey. "Yeah," he pauses to hiccup, "what?"
"I've got Anderson on the phone for you," Lloyd says haughtily. "He says he's interviewing Barack Obama tonight and that they're going to talk to George about an intervention for Shia afterwards."
Only Ari would have a child who can't manage to get arrested for something good like dropping people out of hotel windows or riding a motorcycle into the pool at the Chateau Marmont. At least Anderson is turning out to be a good investment.
Barack Obama was Ari's first choice for George's Supreme Consort, since George thinks the sun shines out of his ass, but apparently Ari didn't have enough money to convince Barack to leave his wife for George.
Personally, Ari thinks George would've made an awesome First Gentleman, but he's just a little biased.
Ari looks down at the bottle of whiskey and then up at his ceiling. "Okay," he says to his higher power, "But you know I was just joking about the tranny hookers, right?"
-end-