 ON BEDS, THE BOOTS UNDER THEM, THE MESSY DIVORCE OF SHANIA TWAIN & THE VINDICATION OF skippy
The seperation of Shania Twain and Robert "Mutt" Lange probably wasn't a very big story in the rest of the world, but the rest of the world isn't Canada. Shania is from a place called Timmins, Ontario, which is so roundly horrible that it makes the shithole that spawned Avril Lavinge look like Shangri-La. Also, Shania has sold a hundred zillion records. Canadians like it when one of own becomes a global phenomenon and moves as far away as humanly possible. We've been building statues to her and considering creating a state religion dedicated to worshipping her for a decade now.
For that reason, her divorce from the Man Called Mutt is being covered like the Kennedy assassination in her home and native land. When the news was announced last Friday, it was on the front page of all four of Toronto's daily newspapers. It is also believed that Shania is hiding out in Toronto, so if she's reading this, I hope that she'll call me.
Celebrity divorce is always amusing and this one has the potential to be more amusing than most. Most people seem genuinely heartbroken over this, if for no other reason than most people are sexless dwarves who live vicariously through celebrities and anguish themselves over their trivial trials so that they can better ignore the true horror that stares back at them in the mirror every morning.
Canadians, being every inch the rancid starfuckers Americans are, responded to the news with waves of collective sobbing. I'm a more down to earth guy, so I reacted by blasting an industrial sized dollop of goo from my mighty prick directly into my eye. It still stings.
 I'm going to be completely honest with you folks. I would very much like to fuck Shania Twain and have from the second I first laid eyes on her. That might not mean a lot to you, but it's important to me because I try to avoid sleeping with women who live within 200 miles of me and she's believed to have a place in town.
But there's no ignoring the soon to be former Mrs. Lange's body. Even after shitting out a kid six years ago, it's damned near perfect. You'd never know that she's 42 years old, which leads me to believe that her fitness regimen includes a pact with Satan. We might have to ask a famous fitness blogger these important questions. A lady never answers questions like that and we can't be sure that Satan would tell the truth.
But the whole sad spectacle reminds me of an "Ask skippy" question I got many years ago. The question was an age old one, can a woman that hot be a good lay? I contended that she couldn't be.
The answer wasn't without controversy. Every regular hot woman I know was up in arms. And these were indeed beautiful women. I didn't mean them. Rather, I was talking about totally flawless women. Women who were more like paintings than flesh and blood human beings.
The example I used four years ago was Halle Berry, perhaps the most objectively beautiful woman alive. She had been married and divorced twice. Both husbands reportedly cheated.
The question is obvious. Do you think those dudes found someone more beautiful than Halle Berry to fuck? Really? Do you suppose that's even possible? I don't. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure the scientific odds are against it.
And, as the fine folks at People tell us, the same has happened with Mr. and Mrs. Mutt. As Shania Twain copes with her sudden split with the support of family and friends in her native Canada, sources close to the singer say she is reeling from a double betrayal – not only by her husband of 14 years, music producer Robert "Mutt" Lange, but by a woman she considered a close friend. Lange's relationship with Marie-Anne Thiébaud, 37, a longtime secretary and house manager at Twain and Lange's estate in Switzerland, was behind the breakup, say several sources familiar with the situation. "Mutt and Marie-Anne left their spouses for each other and are still in a relationship," says one source, adding that the Swiss employee was a fixture in the household Twain, 42, and Lange, 59, shared with their son, 6-year-old Eja D’Angelo.
 One of these things does not look like the other. The appearences seem to indicate that Mutt has left Shania for her mom. There's only two problems with that theory. Shania's mom is dead and Marie-Anne Thiébaud is actually five years younger than Shania is.
"Gadzooks," you might be saying to yourself. "We have a mystery here!"
Not really. What happened couldn't be more obvious. Shania Twain has no idea how to satisfy a man. It's a tragedy, really. If only this had happened just three short months ago, I would have been more than happy to teach her. However, I am connected at the soul with a beautiful girl who could teach an advanced class on the finer points of fucking. And since I can't seem to persuade my beloved into a three-way, I'm off the market.
But I will offer some advice to the intensely beautiful women who I know comprises 93.6% of my international readership. What kind of a man would I be if I didn't? I couldn't just sit idly by as your menfolk abandon you for pigs.
Look, you're all extremely attractive and we're proud to have you on our arms in public. That's even true of agoraphobic recluses like myself and Mutt. But that beauty is a big pain in the ass if you think of it as a license to just lie there when we're engaged in the making of the love. Beauty is a wonderful thing the first sixteen or seventeen hundred times we fuck you. But after that first weekend, there just has to be more. We already know you're hot. Start acting like it.
For example, under no circumstances should you refuse to blow us just because we haven't showered in a week or so. After all, we're very busy making Bryan Adams sound like he knows what he's doing. And when you're down there, swallow, for Christ's sake. You're not Karen Silkwood and my cum isn't toxic waste. It'll be fine, I promise. Begging to swallow wouldn't hurt, either.
Look, I know anal sex hurts a little at first, okay? But I'm pretty sure that the 19 hours of aerobics that you do every day to keep your body looking like that isn't comfortable, either. There's no point in having a banging little ass if we don't get to bang it. Unless there's hidden treasure up there, you really oughta share. Be a daredevil with your dumper. Not only will you thank us for it, you'll thank yourself.
 We also know that our irrational demand that you call us "daddy" during frenzied intercourse is humiliating. That's why we want you to do it. Unless someone is feeling worthless and humiliated after the orgasms stop, chances are that you're doing it wrong.
You can act like you're too fucking precious to do any of those things all you want.
That's fine, because we know that there's always going to be that a longtime secretary and house manager at our place in Switzerland who would like to meet Angus Young and the guy from Def Leppard. And do you really want to lose a guy as hot as Mutt or me? I didn't think so. We'll still be the one, just to somebody else.
Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: You're Still The One By: Shania Twain From: Come On Over
PermalinkLabels: Ask skippy, Celebrity Skin, Laughter Joy and Lonliness and sex and sex and sex, Relationship Advice
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