My Husband’s Dream Girl is Dating George Clooney, Which Seems So Appropriate

My husband has a thing for Stacy Keibler. He’s been a wrestling fan for as long as I’ve been alive (he’s 10 years older than me), and something about her long legs, big butt and small boobs did it for him. In a way, this is good for me. I also have a big butt and small (yet unbelievably perky and cute) boobs. But I’m pretty sure her legs are as long as my whole body. It’s easy to look at old pictures of her and feel overwhelmed by the ‘tractor-beam of hotness’, as Ricky Bobby would say. Currently, she’s aging and doing weird shit with her hair and trying to be the high-society girlfriend of George Clooney, when really she belongs in a smoke-filled sports bar somewhere drinking beer and playing pool. That’s not a bad thing, but the awkwardness is not becoming on her. I do get a little bit of enjoyment out of the fact that she’s dating one of the hottest men on the planet (in my opinion) meaning that my masturbatory fantasy and my husband’s masturbatory fantasy are together. That’s a romantic sign of true love, y’all.