Monday, August 8, 2016

Romeo Rose: His High Heels Are Killing Him!

So when this letter from Romeo Rose came across the comments I considered leaving it in the comments and leaving it at that. But it was too beautiful to hide away like that.

  The following is a letter from Romeo Rose to a woman known here as "Not Your Bitch, RoRo." And although whether or not she really is Romeo Rose's bitch is a matter of debate in the comments section, she has some skinny on Larry and wants to share. And we're going to break that shit down for you.


There was really no reason for anyone without a seat to get there so early, either. I mean, here is a man who rarely ever travels and has a whole day free in Vegas and what does he do with it? He stands in line. At 8:00 a.m. GA is limited to 500 so it's not like he wouldn't be able to get a decent spot, right?  

Of course he had to bring race into it. Idiot.

The fuck? Why wouldn't a hotel have water? 

Dear Lord in Heaven. Am I reading this right? Did this fool choose a hotel all by his big boy self but didn't sleep in the bed because he didn't have a girlfriend to tell him it was safe or clean? 

I mean, do we need a reminder of what Larry's home looks like on a normal day? I'm sorry for the visual but Larry won't sleep in a hotel bed THAT HE PICKED OUT HIMSELF but he'll wash in this sink?

Larry needs a girlfriend to tell him if a bed is clean, but he'll sit his jiggly ass on this nasty toilet? 

Christ on a Cracker.

Moving on...

Jesus take the wheel.

How long has this man lived by himself and he can't function or enjoy himself without someone wiping his ass for him. And we're supposed to be afraid of him? Everyone makes such a big deal of how scary Romeo Rose is, and he can't have a good time without someone holding his hand.

Part of me wants to feel sorry for this fool, but then I remember who we're dealing with and I react accordingly. 


That's not a girlfriend, Larry. That's a mother. Of a four year old. Grown ass 41 year old men DO NOT have women tell them what to wear and whether or not they need to drink a glass of water. Grown ass 41 year old men know how to do these things all by their damn selves because they're GROWN ASS 41 YEAR OLD MEN. 


How does anyone have patience for this fool who doesn't even know how to buy himself a fucking bottle of water or sit on the fucking floor in a corner to take the edge off his pain? Or take off his fucking boots and stand there in his socks. 

Dude. You paid $1600 for that ticket. Go out, sit your 41 year old ass in the hallway, drink some water, and go back in when you're feeling better. $1600 is serious money.

I imagine the face of anyone standing next to Larry as he worked on that piece of gum looked something like this...

Leave it to Larry to turn something that should be a fun, pleasant experience into a such a project.  Can you imagine being his girlfriend and having to babysit his 41 year old ass at a concert. How is it possible this man can function at a job without someone standing over him all day but he doesn't know enough to buy a fucking bottle of water and sit his ass down if his feet are hurting him? No wonder his perfect girlfriend is old enough to be his grandmother.

Great thundering hippoes, Larry. Take off your damn shoes if they hurt your feet. It can't be any worse than walking around on your floor at home.

 That's right, Larry. You had to get your own fucking water. That's what grown ass 41 year old men do.  Good for you for finding the toilet without help.

What a whiny bitch. Always something to complain about.

So that was it? One night in Las Vegas and then home again, Jiggity Jig? Why, Larry. I think your pants are on fire. He made it seem like he was off on some long journey and all he had was one sleepless night in a fleabag hotel and a lame time at a concert because he doesn't know enough to leave his high heels at home.  Mercy me.

I kept thinking Larry reminds me of someone here and I finally figured out who it is. The guy reading his summer vacation essay in Sister Mary Elephant.  

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

I mean, if someone can't have a good time because he doesn't have a girlfriend, the problem isn't the lack of girlfriend. Know what I'm saying?

 Is anyone else dying to know at which fleabag hotel he stayed?

We need to put this shit out of our misery now. I'm starting to hear violins.

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