See, now that wasn't right. "Hoping for." What the hell's the matter with me? Rooting for a couple of people I don't even know to break up just so I'll have material for my stupid blog. I should be shot.
Seriously Nicole. Did you see the skank your husband was ing? That's how little he thinks of you. That he would cheat on you with a broad who's barely attractive enough to be a Hooters waitress. And honestly Nicole - you don't really think he's done drinking, do you? He's a country singer. Those people drink. A lot. And write songs about it. And songs about pick-up trucks and old dogs named Luke. Do you want to end up being in one of those songs, Nicole? A song about the red-head who broke old Keith's heart, so he had to take up the bottle again, and ugly chicks, and put his dog Luke in his pick-up truck and drive down to the fishing hole to do epic battle with Reggie the five-thousand-pound catfish that his daddy and his daddy's daddy both died trying to hook? Is that any kind of legacy for a woman of your caliber? I don't think so.
Anyway, here's hoping the couple can work their troubles out. Hate to see them break up.
Crabbie's Hollywood
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