I've often imagnined my imaginary boyfriend, Justin Timberlake, shedding a bit of his his pretty boy swag, allowing himself to go a little scruffy, getting in touch with his inner-cub and frolicking with a bear (preferably a black and slightly grizzled Daddy older cousin bear). But never would I have imagined (outside of a bad acid trip) this . . .
They say love is blind and I guess that's why I feel like I rather gouge my eyes than subject myself to this. I don't know if I can forgive this. Unless . . . SNL gives you the Christmas episode to plug this mess and I get follow-up to "Dick in A Box" and "Mother Lover."
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