That poor bastard.
We all think Tony Parker's life is just peaches and cream, wine and roses, fun and games. We have this notion that being the NBA Finals MVP and being engaged to Eva Longoria means that Tony Parker has an amazing life and doesn't share the same problems as the rest of us.
Guess again, people.
First of all, having been the Finals MVP, Mr. Parker has some extremely high expectations to live up to. I, for one, wouldn't want to have to deal with pressure like that. And then there's the huge target on his back; everyone will be trying to replace him as Finals MVP, including players on his own team. Word is that Tim Duncan is secretly a jealous, obnoxious jerk who, even at the expense of the team's success, will find a way to see to it that he gets all of the accolades next season. Robert Horry is openly
an obnoxious jerk - when it seemed likely that Steve Nash was on his way to being the league MVP - and perhaps the Finals MVP - Horry body slammed him. The obvious next step? Going after Parker.
No, I wouldn't want to be Tony Parker. The poor bastard.
Tony Parker is on Letterman tonight, and I just saw his Subway commercial with Jared, the Subway mascot who lost 1,463 pounds eating low-fat subway hoagies. The two are arguing about "more meat" vs. "less fat." Profound stuff. I myself prefer more fat. Anyway, Tony Parker is everywhere - he's on every show, doing every interview, appearing in every commercial, and likely being forced to attend a potpourri of charitable events that involve sick children, unfixed animals, and appearing before large crowds with - ack - Peyton Manning. That sound fun to you?
In addition to all of that, Parker is undoubtedly flying almost every day, into and out of various time zones, causing him tremendous jet lag. JET LAG. ALL THE TIME! Sound a tub full of rose petals? I got news for you, people - Tony Parker puts on his pants one leg at a time, and he experiences jet lag too. Not fun.
Think being tall is great? Have you seen pictures of him next to Eva Longoria? There's like two feet difference in height there. What's that
sex like? It's probably like when I got curious with one of my sister's Barbie dolls and...ok, well, I don't want to get too deep into that.
That's what she said.
And come on, we all know that Tony is taking second best. Marcia Cross and Felicity Huffman are clearly the top-tier Desperate Housewives...
...I'm sorry. I tried. I can't do it. Best I can explain is that I meant this as a kind of a debating class assignment, where I was told to defend the "Hitler really wasn't that bad" argument.
Dear Tony, please adopt me. I promise I'll be good. I'll only swim in the pool when you say it's OK. I'll pick up your birth control and your enormous dry-cleaning. And I'll go one step further, you sexy thing - if I were going to go gay, it would be for you. Does that embarrass you? Does it make you blush to realize how much I want you to "drive it to the hole"?
So what, you're rejecting me? I'm not right for you? You're going to go ahead and marry Eva? FINE! Go ahead and marry her. I didn't want you anyway. To hell with you, Tony Parker. You aren't even worth my time! Who the hell shaves his head when he would clearly have a full, lush mane of hair were he to grow it out? A self-absorbed show-off, that's who.
I hope she's worth it, Tony. I hope she can fulfill you like I could have.
Good luck to you, Tony Parker. You'll need it.
Labels: Eva Longoria, Tony Parker