Wordsmoker

I’m excited about this Apple thing coming. The world seems to be full of death being carried around in endless trucks and we need a distraction. I want the Apple thing to be that distraction. Talking, thinking about, mulling over and maybe writing something on the Apple thing is the perfect thing to distract us from everything. I hope this Apple thing rocks. I hope it rocks Bigtime. Because I need a break. I hope it rocks like fucking Jennifer Aniston.

I must admit to you – right here and now – that I haven’t fucked Jennifer Aniston. Not even came close. Probably never will. But I’ve had a crush on her since her Friends days, and man – I think that fucking Jennifer Aniston would probably be the best thing out of everything. As she’s getting older, she’s becoming even sexier to me. She’s getting some character in her face, and she’s become, to me, a woman with a fine-looking 40′s and 50′s ahead of her.

Yeah, I fantasize deep. I’m worth it.

Angelina was always too weird for me. Jennifer’s like someone who could live next door, but someone who lives next door and who takes exceptionally good care of herself to an impossible to achieve ideal only accessible by millionaire actresses with their own production company? Kinda like that. She also doesn’t seem to take herself too seriously, and has – in my opinion – the most spectacular breasts imaginable. Her nipples sing to me. I want to bury my head between her thighs from dawn til dusk, worship her beauty.

Cunnilingus with Jennifer Aniston would be the closest thing to a spiritual experience I think I would ever get.

I hope this Apple thing’s like that. Like going down on Jennifer Aniston.

After Steve Jobs shows it off whatever it is and every content provider across the world stops crying for a second and imagines a successful subscription revenue stream, we’ll start talking about it in earnest and that’s when the fucking begins. We’ll be on a technological high – the kind of high only possible when one imagines fucking Jennifer Aniston while staring at a high definition photograph of her looking particularly stunning at some awards ceremony on my Mac’s screen. For me, and probably for many others, she’ll be the one we’ll equate this to.

“Way to go, Steve”, we’ll say. “It’s as good as fucking Jennifer Aniston.”

And of course, I know this is slightly distasteful. Saying these things about someone I’ve never met. Jennifer’s just a (very sweet) fantasy. Always will be. I just think she’s the height of pretty, as cute as cute as can be – a physical presence I truly could never have enough of. And it’s silly trying to equate the excitement over an object I won’t be able to afford but will still covet every day with an actress whose choices in romantic comedies leave a lot to be desired I overlook this in my daydreams. But I hope it’s as good as I think. I hope it’s as good as I imagine fucking Jennifer Aniston to be.

Because, as you can see, I think differently.