Well I guess Jennifer Love Hewitt‘s toolbag decided to get her some roses for their anniversary, to to apologize for picking his nose in public, or maybe just to say I love you. Who knows. It’s possible he saw me coming out of left field, ready to swoop in and steal his girl, kankles and all, and he thought he would head that off at the pass with a little foliage. Either way, I’ve got this dude’s number, I’m going to win her heart and then we’re going to make lots of babies. After getting married and spending most of her money. The cool thing about J Love though is once we run out of money, we’ll just find her some kind of hot movie to star in, and she can run around braless or maybe have a topless scene or two, and bam we’ll be back in the money. I’m thinking something like that Stripper movie with Demi Moore. Jennifer’s boobs won’t last forever, eventually they will droop and sag and become pancakes, especially after a couple of kids. But until then, I figure we (as in all of us) should enjoy them and profit from them. This little blue dress is just about perfect in that it is deeply cut, shows off her rounded melons, and pretty much mandates that she goes braless.

I don’t know why I call it a boob-a-lanche, other than the fact that when she does that milkshake, all the boys come runnin to the yard because there is a veritable avalanche of big, warm, natural boobies. I know it’s kind of weird that I would post about my girl Jen twice in one month, weird in a creepy/stalker/I can’t stop thinking about her sort of way. But c’mon, look at that body! That body was made for only one thing: looking at. Woop, hold on. Two things: making babies. Welp, let’s make that three things: humpin. She ain’t made for hopscotch, or zumba classes, or Ms America pageants. She is probably dating somebody right now, or maybe she got married, but I’m too lazy to go look it up so I could make fun of him and call him a toolbag and impress upon my readers that *he* doesn’t know what to do with a fine girl like Jen, whereas yours truly would treat her like a queen and buy her sticky rolls from cinnabon and never complain or even comment about her weight. Let her blow up after she marries me man, she is Jennifer F’in Love Hewitt. Eat some cake while you watch us stare into each other’s eyes and declare our undying love, at least until she meets that guy she knows from the bar at a hotel and does the nasty with him.

You know you love her. Those big mogambos of Jennifer Love Hewitt, that soft curvy body, those crinkly-eyed smiles. It’s been a long time since we wondered what she would blossom into during the party of five show. Now we know. The thin brown fabric seems to suit her well. The long, flowing, hippy chic green skirt is great, as long as she promises she has a g-string on under there. Mercifully, we have cropped out her kankles – nobody is perfect but Jennifer is close except for those think beefy ankles. With a top heavy gal like this, we don’t have to worry about the feets dawg. In the one pic, she is on her phone screaming to her best friend:

Yes, they are following me again! I don’t know how they found me, but they’re here. And they are snapping photos even though my boobs are jiggling all over the place. Make sure I never leave the house again without putting on a bra, dammit! The paparazzi and general public get more peeks at my boobies than my man, and that’s just not fair.

But, c’mon, who is going to appreciate her chest more, some dude that has like a million dollars in his bank account and has seen them before, or lil ol me, here in my trailer and wishing mightily.