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November 10, 2009

Can't Fug the Moonlight

Somewhere in the enclaves of Malibu, Eddie Cibrian's ex-wife is looking at this picture and composing an enraged statement about it on her Blackberry, to be sent to US Weekly at her earliest convenience (aka, as soon as she finishes writing it).

spl137872_001.jpg

It surely says something along the lines of, "I can't BELIEVE LeAnn would wear those incredibly hideous tights when she knows that I have those same hideous tights myself. She's obviously stalking me and I plan to file for another restraining order. By the way, did I ever mention that Eddie has three nipples. HE DOES. HE DESERVES THAT THIRD NIPPLE FOR WHAT HE DID. IT'S THE MARK OF THE DEVIL. THE CHEATING DEVIL! BURN HIM! BURN HER! BURN THEM ALL! BURN THE WITCHES!!!!!!!!!!! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE."

(I mean, the tights ARE seriously bad -- especially with LeAnn's hideous open-toed clodhoppers -- but really I'm just relieved to have found myself an opportunity to point out that Ex-Mrs Cibrian truly has released more angry statements to the press about her failed marriage than any wronged woman, ever. I mean, I feel you, girl. Infidelity is as ugly as that outfit. And these two have been irritatingly and publicly smug. But what I'm really trying to say is that revenge is a dish best served cold and IN NEAR SILENCE. When they both awake to find their shampoo has been replaced by Nair and their body lotion with self-tanner, you need PLAUSIBLE DENIABLITY. You know what I mean? Ahem.)

 

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