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October 02, 2007

Fugela Anderson


What are you doing applying for a marriage license? You haven't even been divorced from the last one for all that long.

[Source: Splash News]

But most vitally, WHAT ARE YOU DOING applying for a marriage license with RICK SALOMON -- he of One Night In Paris (and a bunch of nights in Shannen Doherty), who is a total skeeze and has probably put a lipstick cam in your panties so he could get good cutaway shots to edit into your inevitable sex tape?

Obviously, we have slightly different taste in guys, although at least I can understand what drew you to Tommy Lee and Kid Rock (you just know that dude can procure a keg practically out of thin air, if required, AND you can probably borrow his hair products if yours run out). What exactly made you compelled to go for three with Rick Salomon, whose last name always makes me think of "salmonella," which then makes me think of vomiting, which then brings me right back around to Rick again? You seem fairly cool, if slightly in a frenzy to get hitched again; what came unscrewed here? Are you drunk? Did he brainwash you? Has he promised you a lifetime (read: a solid six-monthtime), of flattering camera angles and soft lighting?

Because here's the thing, Pammy: You don't HAVE to get married. Remember that hot model, Marcus Scheckenberg? You didn't marry him. And you didn't marry that magician you've been working with in Las Vegas -- and, seriously, you're already IN Vegas, so if the two of you didn't spontaneously get hitched at the Little White Chapel Of Empty Promises, then you clearly CAN resist the compulsion.  And come to think of it, if you must get married, why NOT marry the magician Hans Klok? Think about it: He's not Rick Salomon. He didn't bone Paris Hilton. And if for some reason he had a head injury and DID sleep with her, he at least didn't sell the evidence. Also, arguably the most vitally, think about how awesome your married name could be: Pammy Klok. It sounds like the heroine of a very efficient, economical Swedish children's story about an IKEA clerk. Pammy Klok and the Ghost In The SVÖKKA. It's going to be a hit.

But I digress. Why not stay fabulously single for a while? Surely there are some nice people out there who'd like to squire you around town, and who don't give the rest of us hives. So GO TO YOUR ROOM AND THINK ABOUT WHO THEY MIGHT BE. There is not a Caps Lock key in the world that's strong enough to make that point. Then, if you insist upon doing it, just take this advice: Don't say anything bad about his ex-wife Shannen, because that broad will CUT a bitch. Fear Brenda Walsh. That is all.

Good luck, and maybe cancel that paperwork,


Posted by Heather at 08:59 AM | Permalink


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