My Correspondence With Brad Pitt

This is an R-rated post.


September 23rd, 2008

Dear Brad,

Oh, well good for you, Brad Pitt! You’re sexy, good-looking and you are a pretty incredible actor as it turns out. I bet you think that makes you so much better than me, huh? You probably go to bed saying to yourself “That guy over there is a total douche,” pointing your perfectly manicured finger my direction.

Sure, you probably don’t have a compulsive addiction to carne asada burritos. You also probably don’t habitually masturbate to Saved By the Bell re-runs with Haley Mills (hey, suck my ass. Miss Bliss is hot!). You also probably don’t make little cardboard cut-outs of The Peanuts so you can have friends. But I am better than you Brad Pitt. I got something over on you.

You see Brad, I can burp the alphabet. That’s right, dick. I can burp the goaddamned alphabet. I know you’re thinking anyone can do this. Maybe you’re right. I know though that I am able to burp the alphabet so much better than anyone else, especially you. Tell Angelina that for me. You tell her that you met a guy who can burp the fucking alphabet better than you.

Oh, you don’t believe me? You don’t believe me when I tell you that I can burp the alphabet better than you? Well guess what, bitch? I’m challenging you here and now to a Burping The Alphabet contest. Next Tuesday, Big Guy.

Until Then,



September 30th, 2008

Dear Brad,

Goddamn it. You win.

Your Willing Servant,





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