Wile perusing the lovely site gawker.com, which, by the way is an awesome site for you celeb whores out there. I don't even know what to say about this, and gawker really didn't either, so I have decided to make up a little story...you know, from the horses point of view...enjoy:
My story with Horsey....horsey being Hillary Duff.
I started as a conglmerate of pebbles, some volcanic, but mostly just sandstone and things lower than 5 on the Moh's hardness scale. When I was conceived, the last way I thought I'd end up was as a horse head on the side of some crazy building. Traditionally speaking, its more of a gargoyle's job. And I ain't no stinkin gargoyle. Never have been, never will be. Not to say I am against gargoyles...I mean, I play poker on thursdays with some guys who are definetely more gargoyle than anything else, and we get along great. they're practically a chip off the old block (for the readers, that's the last stone-related joke I will make).
Anyway, I know what you're thinking...you're thinking 'ooh this is a total photo shop picture.' But it's not. Look, Hllary Duff gets harassed enough by actual humans, the fact that she would take time to still pose with them is a modern marvel. But after our briief photo session, she confessed that I was the first stone horse she'd even done a session with. Then she went downtown and did another session.
What? She's a busy girl...can't expect her to hang with me in the burbs all day now, can you? And I know this seems absurd, because quite frankly: I'm a stone horse. But get over it. The fact that I am a stone horse is the last thing we should even be dwelling upon. Rather, think about the tornado in the background there. Where did it come from?
I can tell you: it came froim me and Hillary's firey love. And it isn't going away.
And the gingerbread house? I can explain that as well. Essentially, even as a stone horse, a guy's still gotta work. I need to feed my kids right? After all, they are my little ponies. And I love them. And when their mother and I (who will remain nameless, the chunty whore) made these little blesssings, she left me high and dry for a gig as a horse podeum at Churchhill Downs. Good for her. Yeah, no worries. I'll just take care of the kids, and manage my career protecting a tornado ridden gingerbread house. Right?
I am also really happy that she is sitting on a cheeta print couch. Any horse print and she would have had some 'splainin to do.
Anyway, I'm just a stone horse trying to get by.
Got a funnier story? I don't doubt it. I am a moron, so you could shit on a CD and that would turn out better. Anyway, if you got something you think is a laugh riot, leave it as a comment, or shoot me an email @ firstname.lastname@example.org!
yay for absurdity!