Muy, muy triste.
Okay, I’ve been staying out of this because really? It’s like kicking a puppy. But that’s exactly why I now feel I must come out.
Deep breath… Here goes.
Despite all that’s happened, I still love Charlie Sheen.
Oye, Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. Whatever happened to that sweet young man we all fell in love with, playing the thuggy “bad boy” in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?” I cried REAL TEARS when you got shot in “Young Guns,” you know — cried in a MOVIE THEATRE no less! Those ugly bitches living in your house simply CAN’T love you like I do… they weren’t even BORN then!
So here’s the plan: You come and live with me and I will get you off the bad drugs and onto the ones that will make you not be crazy. You can sleep on the couch and watch all the cable you want, as long as you don’t order any porn on the pay-per-view (I know how you are).
Seriously though, I will hear no shit about my man. He just needs help, possibly of the mental variety, and we’re none of us in a position to throw stones there! I am ready and willing to kick that Brooke Mueller’s ass, and I’ve wanted to punch Denise Richards in the neck since “Wild Things,” so she can shut her horse-toothed mouth, too. And don’t get me started on the ugly-ass leech whores he’s got now… fuckin’ bring it, you skank bitches. I’ll beat ya like your mama shoulda. The HoodyHoo Celebrity Rehab program will become world famous, and CBS will have to cut me a check for fixing Charlie Sheen.
Just one worry, though — if he tries any of that domestic violence shit with ME, I’mown knock his ass out. All them movie dudes are midgets, anyway, so I can take him.