I must say something. You aren’t hot anymore. I first discovered you in "LA Confidential;" you played an angry cop that blurred the line between good and bad. I watched your handsome conflicted face when you fell in love with a high class hooker and showed her compassion, it was at that point that I inserted myself into your movie, goodbye Kim Basinger, I am taking over your role and Russ will hold me against his chest and kill for me. Russ you chewed the scenery and went sick on the bad guys, I was in love.
I became an incoherent mess of rapture as I watched you in "Gladiator." You were muscled and fierce. When you were sweaty and loaded down with armor fighting for your life in the coliseum I wanted to slay those lions for you, and when you looked up towards the evil Joaquin Phoenix and bellowed “I AM MAXIMUS DECIMUS MERIDIUS!” I slid out of my Harkins Theatre seat and crawled to the isle where I tried to resume some composure and sip my 1$ loyalty refill cup.
My worship was sealed for time and all eternity, when I watched you on the Oprah show explaining to her how you DESIGNED and CONSTRUCTED a chapel in your backyard for me, I mean your wife. You designed this chapel for your marriage and set the colored glass window in the perfect angled spot so that the setting sun would shine its light onto your bride’s wedding dress. I passed out cold. Tim came home and had to revive me with lines from your movies.
I forgave you your bad hair dye job in "Cinderella Man." I killed the anorexic Renee Zelleweger in my mind and placed myself in your soothing triceps of love. I didn’t mind that I had to feed our children boiled turnip soup; I would have given you all the children you wanted and lived on welfare checks and WIC.
Russ, I have tried to divert my eyes away from pictures such as these:
They are coming at me from all sorts of websites, too much, too soon! My Russ does not have a pudgy middle aged waistline and throw ill executed gang signs. STOP please I beg of you, cut and wash your hair and refrain from eating cheeseburgers and wearing Sunday church slacks. For the love of God quit throwing phones and being angry.
Russ I can’t take much more. Your second chin and bad choice of shoes are making me weak. Please God, take this tacky, paparazzi hating Russ away and bring me back my stud ass.