And his moves are for sh-t.

One of my favourite John Mayer stories is when he once revealed, pre-Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Aniston, that when he tired of f-cking hot girl groupies on tour, he’d dabble in the chunk now and again, because thick girls can be more grateful. And sometimes a cock needs a little variety.

There is no stankier douche than a loser who becomes rich and famous.

See Jon Gosselin. And now Gerard Butler.

You know that guy in Vegas, the investment banker/hedge funds manager/car salesman/internet millionaire who loves throwing money at girls in g-strings and thinks he can buy you with a bottle of champagne with a vocabulary that consists only of “hey baby” and “f-ckin’ rights, man!”

You know him?

He is Spittle.

Spittle is a pig.

Two encounters:

Spittle was interviewed recently by an attractive reporter who had to clarify for him during their discussion that “I’m a journalist so I’m off limits”.

His response?

He leans in and arrogantly assured her, because his claim to fame consists of grunting and bugging his eyes out like a violent bodybuilder, that:

“No, you’re not off limits”.

Say what motherf-cker?


This from a man who cannot speak without spraying.

And then this from M who was at a pool party in Brooklyn with Spittle dressed in a blue tee, cargo shorts, not particularly attractive, and also much shorter than he’s sold to be, a normal looking dude accompanied by his “manager” standing by the dodgeball court surrounded by nubile, very young ladies.

M and her friends were debating whether or not it was really Spittle. As M puts it, she’s “drunk enough to go confirm”. So she walks up to him and apologises for bothering him and asks if he’s Gerard Butler because she just made a bet that he was Gerard Butler.

After acknowledging that he was indeed Gerard Butler, he then asked M if she wanted to win another bet.

“You should unbutton your shorts and dance along the fence.”

M asked why, what would be her reward?

And he answered magnanimously:


Spittle is so generous, non?

Needless to say, she didn’t care to have any more of his time. So she walked away, laughing at him, followed by “his manager”, who tagged along to come hear what she reported back to her friends, and they ended up laughing in his face until he scurried away too.

F-cking loser.

So the moms and the aunts love Spittle. And Spittle is SUCH a gentleman.

Yay for Spittle.

File photo from