People, I really feel your confusion having to watch this trio once again hogging our airwaves. Many men have written, words inked in email-tears of anguish, to tell me they are in Esther-shock but I pleaded with them please don’t chop off your dicks because this is not a new phenomenon. The pain of disappointment does subside once you start dating other men as it happened to me years ago when I heard the news that Whitney was marrying Bobby.
I’ve also been really struggling to understand this Quincy Timberlake. Presidential aspirant Hellon seems harmless enough, in fact I think he’s been over metrosexualised. Just check out those long manicured surgeon’s fingers and the delicate baby curls, aaww, how sweet. Just what we want in a president because that’s how you can tell the country will be in good hands. As for Esther, well you can’t say she doesn’t look like she’s getting it good and regular from hubby Quincy also known as Zuma Wambita. I mean just because his brain isn’t working properly doesn’t mean his slim shady won’t stand up and do a real job. You can bet there’s a lot of nightly babbling wooowiii, wooowiii out of Mrs Timberlake, it’s written on her face the way her fringe is flourishing, and everyone knows it in their heart of hearts that she must be on to some seriously good zuma wam-beating it. So let’s just put jealousy to one side.
But Quincy as a person? He’s such a closed book perhaps because he‘s never opened one. And it’s painfully frustrating when he uses that language that only he speaks so fluently. I’ve tried my best to find a human who’ll teach me but to no avail. George is urging patience, he says come 2012 when the trio are in Statehouse, by a landslide, we’ll all get lessons because they’ll ask us over for sleepovers. We await in a state of anticipitalitis.