Refried Screens

Paul Sculfor had to learn the hard way while dating Jenifer Aniston that regular dudes and celebrities don’t mix:

“He said she made him happy but he was having to keep under the radar.  One minute he’s living a normal life and the next he’s over every magazine and television channel in America. He realized the pressure of fame - it’s something you want until you actually get it.”

We all know that you have no shot at ever getting with Jenifer Aniston, but who cares?

Before you get caught up with another overrated star disingenuously whining about how she wants an average guy, keep in mind a number of reasons why average dudes should be content with their local hotties instead of getting caught up in celebrity bachelorette hype:

-Hugh Grant preferred a $5 hooker to Liz Hurley. 

Just think, if you had $5, you could’ve gotten with the same hooker too!  That is the beauty of America. 

-Jude Law preferred his chunky nanny to Sienna Miller.  Did you take a look at the nanny?

Like a diamond hidden in a soiled, smelly dishrag, behind that plain wrapper is a woman who Jude Law was begging to see.  But you don’t have to beg.  You can see loads of women like that at your local pub.

-Eric Benet and David Justice preferred local girls to Halle Berry.

That’s right.  Halle Berry, dude. 

The whole flyover country label is a ruse perpetuated by famous cheaters to trick their girlfriends.

It’s also used by landlords in NY and LA to  justify high rent.

Like Halle Berry, tenants fall for it, every time.

-Harry Potter prefers groupies to celebutants:

“I think it would be very hard to go out with an actress, because they’re mad.  Some actresses are just insane. I’ve never worked with a nasty actress - they’re all absolutely delightful. But completely barking.”

Some people think this is code for Hermie doesn’t think my wand is “magical” enough, but I’ll leave that to Mr. Ed.

The point is, all of these guys had access to the finest women in the world, yet they still preferred ’round the way girls. 

So put down that copy of Maxim.  Ignore the flattering airbrushing, lighting, and makeup jobs.   Your local ladies don’t have publicists or other PR folks promoting how hot they allegedly are. 

Chances are they’re real and magnificent.

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