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.
She is certainly turning out to be an EXCEEDINGLY ugly lady. Good luck on being able to get dates.
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