Now when you are contemplating marriage material, you have to take a lot of factors into consideration. You are looking for a life partner, someone you can share your everything with, someone that you’re not afraid to hear to you poop after you’ve been to CiCi’s and got the sprays. I mean, you really need to know each other inside and out. Like, deep inside. I’m talking Butt Spelunking. With a tape measurer. One needs to be aware of the circumference, depth, cubic mass, humidity, and temperature of their spouses cavern.
So who are we choosing to marry? No Brainer, Blossom Russo from TV’s Blossom. She’s sweet. She’s smart. She listens. She’s creative. She loves life. She’s got a real old soul. And she’s seen stuff, man. Her mom left. Her dad is a musician which means he does heroin. Her best friend is a whore.
I love that she’s got got her own unique style too. Those big floppy hats really accent her big Jew nose. Now, I know a lot of Jews prefer to stick to their religion when it comes to marriage. I’m not positive if Blossom follows this rule, but I would be willing to do whatever it takes to be with her because she is my soul mate. And ain’t no Hebrew God going to stand in my way. Go ahead, circumcise me. I’ll do anything. Sure, I won 3rd place five years in a row at the County Fair’s Mr. Foreskin contest. And it would have been six in a row if Wade Quackenbush hadn’t showed up with that anteater snout he calls a penis. Still, you better believe I’d give all my awards back in a heartbeat to take Blossom’s hand in marriage. Shit, we could use my foreskin as the wedding ring if our Rabbi was okay with that.
You know, I’m even kind of excited about becoming a Jew for Blossom. It’s like my grandfather always said “Behind every good man, there’s a great Jew” and I think he is right on the money. Jesus, Woody Allen, Gertrude Stein, Groucho and Karl Marx, the cast of Seinfeld, Jean-Paul Sartre, Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the secret committee that tells the President what to do, and my analyst Dr. Werner Lipshwitz. I would be honored to enter that circle of Jewdom.
And for any of you out there who are thinking “Blossom is sooo in love with Vinnie, you don’t stand a chance old man, with your undescended testicle and your IBS.” Well, ya know what I say to that bullshit? Fuck Vinnie. Vinnie couldn’t hold my jockstrap. Not out there on the ice and not when it comes to Blossom Russo. And I know some of you gay ass lesbians in the crowd are saying “Blossom is totally eating Six’s wafting meatlocker,” I got news for you, Blossom and I have already discussed that. It was just a phase she was going through. It’s over. She made a great point. She said “The best part about being a woman is the perogative to have a little fun.”
And I think she is absolutely right. I mean, everybody’s a little gaybear sometimes. Right? Ok, can I be honest with you? Like reeeaaally honest? You can’t tell Bloss. Or Vinnie. Or any of the guys cuz they’ll call me a dicksitter, but…Ok….I’m really just marrying Blo-Blo to get to Joey. He’s soooo fooooine. That retard can make this little boy say “Whoa!” anytime he wants. Ha! Listen to me. Man, I feel like a woman right now. Seriously. But, he makes me wanna doo-doo his babies. Lets just say that I would like to have his boots under my bed.
I’m fa realz though. I would marry the tits off of Blossom. If only to pick her brains about those hats! Y’all remember when Six had a drinking problem? Or when she dated the married man? Or when she thought she was preggers? Yeah, I know. What a slut!