Dear Demi Moore…

I used to love Demi Moore, but then again she was G.I. Jane and I used to be in the Navy (as some of my faithful readers already know).  Although I’ve never done a one armed push-up or shaved my head, we have at least one thing in common: we’ve both survived the wrath of the Navy’s least flattering uniform, Winter Working Blues.  I owe her plenty of thanks for looking shitting in that damn thing.  It was my go-to excuse for 4 years as to why I also looked shitty in it.  Can we get on that, Navy???  Eh?  If Demi looks like a fat ass in Winter Working Blues maybe we’ve got a design problem.

Anyway, so yeah, I used to think she was the best, until one day…

That’s around the time she lost me.  Really, Demi?  Your favorite comfort food is FRENCH FRIES?  No.  Effing.  Way.  I’m not a doctor or anything, but I do fancy myself to be a bit of a french fry expert and I’ll tell you what, this is not a fry eater we’re dealing with here.

So that’s when she lost me.

Well now she’s gone and won me over again.  What can I say, I’m a softy for scorned women.  So go on Demi, keep pretending to eat fries, I’ll let it slide.  But you better have your answers ready when we meet one day and I ask you if you like them thin and crispy or if you’re more of a steak fry gal (correct answer is obviously thin and crispy).

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