In either an inadvertently humorous response or a subtle “yeah, go fuck yaself, Donnie” to bitchery over his not attending his brother Donnie’s wedding to moronic child-endangerer Jenny McCarthy in NYC yesterday, Mark Wahlberg posted a video (below) to his Instagram of him and his million children congratulating them. He explains to those who care (*looks around, finds no one*) that he couldn’t attend because it was daughter Ella’s 11th birthday. (Right, Ella? Help Daddy lie now!)
Mark Wahlberg does very little for me. I have a psychic scar to explain it. When I was in high school, one of my best lady friends would make us drive past his Mom’s house every day after school in the hopes that he would be visiting and I guess naked on the front lawn. It was one town over from our school. This was back when he was “hot” (which was right after “racist” – er, I don’t think that’s what made him hot for her). One day he DID happen to be leaving his mom’s house, so my friend gunned it to follow him wherever he was going. It was bad enough that I wasn’t out of the closet in high school and was now in a car chase with a male teen idol and Calvin Klein underwear model for everyone’s future reference. But then she caught up to him at a stoplight. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. I just stared straight ahead praying for death. I don’t even know what she did. He drove off while I was wondering if it would be possible to shove myself into her glove compartment out of shame. This explains my aversion to Mahk. Well, that and he comes off as an asshole.
That being said. I am so with Mahky Mahk on this one. I would have said it was the guinea pig’s birthday and they would have had to deal. Or I was getting the car washed. Or combing my pubes that day so they looked particularly fluffy and buoyant. Or “your bride has a child body count website dedicated to her.” That should suffice.