This is what she had to say about her vibrator-powered orgasm scene in some incredibly bad movie that –let’s face it– you’re only going to see if (a) you don’t have a boyfriend, or (b) your boyfriend is such a pussy that his nickname in high school was “Vag-Lips”:
Oh, my God, it was a nightmare. It was really exhausting… legs dancing under the table and all the tensing-up of the body. By the end of the day, I felt like I’d run a marathon. No one wants to orgasm thirty-five times a day.
I have to think that Gerard holding that heart over his man-area means something. Probably "I love my penis," a sentiment shared by millions of gay men and Jennifer Aniston. Hm. Makes you think Extreme was right, and perhaps it does take more than words to show how you feel. After this post, I'm gonna make sure that my wang knows my love for it is real by, y'know, closing my eyes and just reaching out my hand.
Now, just to be clear, I don’t care about all those stories of how Heigl is a bitch. It’s my job as a man to put aside any petty complaints I might have about a beautiful woman’s putrid personality and appreciate her for the supple ass that gives her life meaning. (At least, that’s what I took away from the dust jacket of that Betty Friedan book I tripped over at Barnes & Noble the other day. Feminism is complicated. And hurty.) After all, there are dudes out there willing to do a couple years in a state pen just for the chance to shoot an upskirt of some random chick in the feminine hygiene aisle at Walmart… what kind of spoiled dickhole would I be if I failed to appreciate a visual feast like K.H.? I’m better than that. More or less.
Now we know why all the phosphorescent polar bears are dying out: Katy is skinning them and using their pelts as boob cushions. Which, in fairness, is a better fate than the one which awaits the spotted mockadoo chipmunk, which is being slowly driven to extinction to provide Danny DeVito with scrotal merkins.
But in my opinion, bitchy is one thing… deceptive is another. I mean, to just flat-out lie like that? She was exhausted from faking it? It was a nightmare? No one wants to orgasm thirty-five times a day? The woman was making a movie with Gerard Fucking Butler!
No Persians were harmed in the making of this photo.
That man is so sexy that the only reason I don’t want to fuck him is that it would be too much like boning my ugly twin brother. And bear in mind that I’m saying this, despite the fact that I’m so heterosexual that Georgia O’Keefe used to ask my advice on how to become more obsessed with vaginas. (I was six at the time, so it was a little weird, but she bought me cookies and porno. We worked it out.) When I say a man is sexy, that means he is the embodiment of everything the male of the species can hope to be.
Where was I? Oh, right. So, she wants us to believe that she had to fake orgasms even while being exposed to King Leonidas’ potent pheromone lure? I call horseshit! Forget being a widdle tired after sitting in a chair all day… she’s lucky The Phantom didn’t rattle her uterus loose in every scene.
I’m keeping an eye on you, Heigl! From a distance deemed respectful by the court, naturally.
If you watched the movie you might have realised that the fake orgasms had nothing to do with Mr Butler but rather the vibrating panties she was wearing. Besides, Gerard is the lucky one – Heigl is the hottest chick on the planet – I predict he was struggling even more than she was to keep his composure
(1) Of course I haven’t seen the movie. As should be clear to anyone reading this site, I’m not that big a pussy… if you don’t believe me, just ask my gynecologist.
(2) My contention is that those orgasms were in no way fake or undesirable. They were quite real, and triggered by the hormonal blast-wave generated whenever Gerard Butler’s epic testosterone inevitably oozes from his pores and spontaneously ignites on contact with air. Rumor has it that he once took his shirt off to do a roadside tire change and caused two captive pandas –thousands of miles away– to spontaneously reproduce. And by “rumor has it”, I mean it absolutely, totally happened.
(3) Heigl has never been the hottest chick on the planet. Unless you count those few minutes of re-entry over Roswell.
(2) Fake orgasms are like fake boobies, as long as I can feel them, they are just fine with me. Fortunately, I’ve never experienced a fake orgasm from any of the women I’ve bedded. (Georgia O’Keefe used to want me, but said that there was another 6 yr old that kept her too busy, at least now I know who that was.)
(3) maybe not the hottest chick on the planet, but she’s waaaay up there on the list of hotties. Even you would have to admit that.
(E) Men who think they’ve never been fooled by a fake orgasm are like men who accept that they have been fooled by a fake orgasm, in that they have all been fooled by fake orgasms.
(XVII) I have to admit nothing. Well, by law, I’m required to admit certain past indiscretions when moving to a new neighborhood, but aside from that… NOTHING!