Poor little Kristin Cavallari looks so lost without me. Look at her standing there in her ridiculously huge Ray Ban glasses, texting her douchebag friends for help. Obviously she needs a real man in her life - one who knows what to do in a crisis such as a flat tire or not being able to flip a sunny side egg properly. And I'm that man. I'd totally call AAA for her. Maybe hold her hand for a little bit if she was scared. Then I would nervously try to distract her from the enormous tent I would have pitched in my pants. ... it would be perfect.
I gotta start thinking about a career change. Just imagine the lucky repairman a-hole who got to open up Kristin's car and stick his dirty fingers in its dark and naughty places. Maybe I should move to L.A. and work at a gas station or something. I'd be bound to bump into celebrities and then subtly rub my manly bits against them. That's the real American dream, after all.
