Sylvester Slimeball was a household name years ago when he was a major posh pooh-ba on a long-running boob-tube series
. Boyfriend hasn’t done anything really big (well, certainly not as big as the man’s equipment down below happens to be) until now.
See, Sylvester’s coming to an entertainment enterprise near you…how exciting! I’m simply thrilled, and you will be, too, I’m sure! And now that S2’s a hot commodity again in ever-fickle Hollywood, S.S. has supposedly become quite the lothario—again. I mean, you know how a schmuck’s sleaze scale rises and falls along with his pro-meter, doncha? Men are always so predictable that way.
Now, Sly (no relation to Sly Stallone, promise) has been hitting on the hot young thangs who toil at his agency’s office and asking them out, despite the fact that S.S. is very much hitched, with tykes, to boot. Oh, please. Make me barf, already. You straights are even more indiscriminate than we fagolas are, and we can certainly be Slutty Sallys, fer sure!
Now, a little flirting never hurt anyone, but Sly Slime-B totally crossed the line with his recent bad-boy behavior, as Mr. Es actually showed up, unannounced and uninvited, to an assistant’s house—after working hours, natch. Dirty deets be that S.S. was carrying flowers and begged said worker bee to go on a “date” with him. When the horrified hon pointed out the much older S.S. was friggin’ married, his reply was too Tinseltown typical:
“It’s just for show,” he swore, “like all the Hollywood marriages.”