Rough year, huh? The ass-whipping, the rehab, the injuries, personal drama and whatnot. I want to sympathize, breaking up is hard to do and all but um – you SO brought this on yourself. Karma is a bee-yotch. An evil boomerang of a vindictive witch just waiting for you to stand up again so it can whack you in the head. But I guess you know that by now, huh? And you know, it was not just the pathological lying and cheating and the terrible sexting, whatever. Keep a penicillin shot and a non-disclosure agreement with you at all times, quote Barry White in your texts and if that fails you have the option to roll up on women and say "Just Do It" – I mean you kinda own Nike, right? These are just suggestions.
My main point is this: You brought this on yourself with the choice of spouse to begin with. You proposed to Peaches, not Paulina.
Okay so maybe Elin isn't the exact Caucasian equivalent of Peaches from around the way but she was close enough. You can call her a supermodel if you want to. Call me a Pulitzer Prize winner while you're at it. She wasn't and I'm not… yet. J That überNordic chick was a nanny. NTTAWWT (Not That There's Anything Wrong With That). It's an honest way to make a living. But when your net worth is over a billion dollars and you know you're a closet p!-hound you need to marry a real supermodel, someone hustlin' for their own dollars. You like those Eastern European types, that's why I mention a Paulina. I'm sure there's a 20-year old equivalent out there. Or maybe you've decided to go exotic this time around? Get you one of those Brazilian Bikini chicks if you don't wanna flow to the Iman/Naomi side of the spectrum.
The thing is when you marry the nanny; you end up with a nanny who has become accustomed to living like a billionaire's wife. Now your exploits get splashed all over every available media outlet and some judge wanting to make history gives your nanny/wife 750 million dollars. Seven hundred and fifty million. (Somewhere somebody just started head-boppin' to Get Money). Homie, that's a sponsored come up for real tho. Monsieur Tigre, that is more than the country of Iceland needed to avoid bankruptcy last year. I added that not to be mean but just in case you needed some perspective… Iceland could get a loan from your nanny/wife.
Let me plead with you right now…step your game up. Not your golf game; I'm sure that will be fine. Your relationship game, sir. I won't waste typing time telling you how many sisters would be honored to have you cheat on them and then set up their next five generations with wealth. No need for that. I'm just saying how about you snag somebody with their own dollars? Someone who brings a little more to the table than a blonde ponytail and adoring smile? I'm not knocking Elin, she clearly has enough on the ball to catch you, keep you and toss you back while retaining (let me type it again) $$750MM of your money.
And actually, might I suggest before you go looking for your Paulina that you work out whatever's going on with you? I don't know what kind of clinic you attended or where your head is but I have to assume you don't have another ¾ of a BILLION dollars to parcel out to the next one. If you don't plan to play by the rules, don't even bother with the marriage vows. Mayhaps a series of flings? Again here's hoping you choose some ladies that don't look like cheap wanna-be porn stars working the food court in a mall in Jersey? (No shade to Jersey… just sayin' the side pieces were a damn disgrace in more ways than one)
Well, good luck to you. Just wanted to share my thoughts. I'm positive you've been waiting for them with baited breath.
Keep it Pimpin',
Have anything you'd like to say to Le Tigre? I'm sure my blog is on his morning reading list.