Dear George, Well it had to happen. After all these years, it's time for me to say good-bye to you. It's not that I don't still think that you're a fine actor, but the feeling just isn't there anymore. I've stuck with you from Roseanne through Sisters, through the mullet you once had through to your salt and pepper stage. I even watched an episode of 'Baby Talk.' Heck, I even paid money to watch you ruin the Batman franchise.
But now the love is lost. It's not just the fact that you're dating a cocktail waitress from the Hard Rock Casino who once won Fear Factor, who you almost killed in an accident. Or the fact that you couldn't be bothered to turn up to the 300 episode of ER, the show that finally gave you that boost you needed to take you to the top.
No, it's the fact that you got into a pissing contest with Fabio. Fabio, the 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' guy. Fabio, who appeared on hundreds of romance novels, and even wrote a few himself (well, not really). Seriously, you tried to take Fabio down? Are you loco? The guy is one giant muscle with a head on top. Don't be fooled by the long hair and the chisled cheeks, heck even a duck couldn't get the best of Fabio, and you thought you were going to win in a smack down?
And what was the point? Like Fabio said 'stop being a diva.' Was it too hard for you to believe that the photographer was taking pictures of Fabio and his entourage? She had to be taking pictures of you? Seriously?
I couldn't believe it when I read about it on Smart Bitches. I thought this couldn't be my George but sadly it was.
So I'm sorry George. My love affair with you is now over. Not even the dream of staying at your villa on Lake Como is worth it. Oh, I'll still see you movies. On DVD. But I will no longer pay my hard earned $11.75.
See ya.
EKM
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