One morning, I awoke to thirteen missed calls from my good buddy Brad Pitt. I quickly called him back, and after we talked about that time we reenacted Home Alone in Lithuania (it’s a private joke), he cut to the chase. His relationship with his beloved wife, Jennifer Aniston, was coming to an end, and he had found a new love in the collagen of the lips of some bimbo named Angelina Jolie. I didn’t know who this demon temptress was, but I had enough trust in our friendship to go with Brad’s perfectly shaped gut.
But boy, I really should have stepped up my game that time. Jennifer Aniston was the most perfect thing to happen to my buddy, and even if JenAn wouldn’t be at anymore of barbecues, I figured we could still hang out. I mean, she was too perfect to give up forever. Her time as Rachel on Friends cemented her place in perhaps the finest ensemble in television history, and her many film endeavors afterwards have been successful enough to merit attention.
JenAn wears her precious little heart on her sleeve, and she was always able to nail the comedic/sensitive side of her roles. She really did bring out the best in Braddy P, even if he tried to act all tough for those Hollywood bigwigs. The fact that she ages like a fine jewel only adds to her already unbelievably beauty.
But that fat lipped whore of a pituitary gland had to come along and rob Brad, becoming the quintessential homewrecker that maids, secretaries and second cousins worldwide looked to as the gold standard. She carries more black children in her purse than breath mints, and all Brad can do is shrug and go along with it, because hey, someone’s gotta carry on the Voight bloodline.
And how about her movies? Who could forget classics such as Tomb Raider, Alexander, and Salt, all of which blew massive amounts of everything unholy. There is no plausible reason that an actor as talented as my buddy Brad should have to settle for an actress that, although garnering a few award here and there, is just plain weird.
Let’s clarify this, though, because calling the DNA from Voight’s love sack “weird” just doesn’t cut it. She collects unloved, orphaned children like Magic the Gathering cards, and probably trades them just as frequently. JenAn would never do such a thing, especially since it took the poor soul about forty years or so to finally be able to have a child of her own.
What I’m trying to say is that Jennifer Aniston is pure joy and happiness, and why anyone would give her up for a pair of lips and hips that admittedly kill is beyond me. The saddest part of this story is remembering how poorly Angelina handled the whole ex-girlfriend thing. Watching Brad open up the box containing Jennifer’s head while Angelina laughed in his face is just heart wrenching. Please come back, Jennifer. Brad needs you so that he can avoid ruining his career with a single hop on Oprah’s couch.