Ryan Reynolds

Thank you Christine from Greeneville for reuniting me with Ryan Reynolds and for sending me some great pics! In honor of your excellent taste, allow me to present you, "Ryan Reynolds - A Totally Untrue Tale Fabricated Purely for my Own Pervy Enjoyment":

The sun beat the tired street like a pimp. I walk it anyway, bored and sad. Ryan Reynolds is approaching me. His shirt pops open and his abs actually pay off my mortgage and find me a new dentist whilst also arousing my interest.

Although he is not happy about it, I am entertaining Ryan Reynolds at the Casa de Royale. After a light supper, and a rousing round of bouncing quarters off his ravishing rump, he gets a bit surly and grows a beard in protest. With the gentle understanding only a woman can feel, I chain him up in my basement. A smile has half formed on my once sullen face and I sense, for the first time in a long time, that things just might be looking up.

He eats alot more than I had originally anticipated, and always insists that his bulging biceps are oiled with grape seed extract. Initially this task had it's perks. Perhaps a basement filled with broken, dust covered exercise equipment bought from infomercials that loiter just outside his reach is not the environment in which Ryan Reynolds blooms. His abs have stopped rescuing children from wells and downloading free movies off the net. Yet, I cannot let go.

Ryan Reynolds dreams in black and white. In his dreams I don't ask him if I look fat in these jeans, I just oil his pecs, make grilled cheese sandwhiches shaped like mickey mouse and stop throwing quarters at his butt. He's making my dreams black, white and wet. Dreams of swimming are dangerous when you have a small bladder.