More recently, you may remember me as the guy who married Chris Kardasian. She was the widow of Robert Kardashian, one of the lawyers who got OJ off from a double murder rap.
But I digress.
That was the start of my downward slide. Chris took away my Wheaties. I just wasn't the same without my Wheaties. Next thing I know, I'm a prisoner in my own house and being forced to participate in this dopey reality show with Chris' dopey daughters as everybody is getting famous on my back.
What I really wanted to say is, "Can we stop at the store and pick up some Wheaties?" But no. Absolutely no Wheaties were allowed in the Jenner/Kardashian household. Chris' orders.
Then Kim hooked up with that punk Kanye West. He would come over to the house and push me around. I couldn't fight back because I had no Wheaties. Next thing I know I'm step grandfather to their kid. I couldn't take it any longer. Here I am surrounded by a bunch of wanna-be celebrities whose names all begin with K. I figured the next thing would be we'd all be doing commercials for Kellogs Special K. So I decided enough was enough. I decided to strike out on my own. And here I am today.
Funny thing is: I don't really crave Wheaties anymore.
Kids. Don't wind up like me. You better eat your Wheaties.
1 comment:
She is certainly turning out to be an EXCEEDINGLY ugly lady. Good luck on being able to get dates.
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