By the way, in my headline I’m referring to the beloved pooch in his hand, not the one on his head.
After Mickey Rourke had a cup of coffee with his Pomeranian named #1 (see: pictures below, you can tell that the lens-loving doggy called the paps), they hit the back alley pap stroll while making their way to their car. If anyone ever asks me what I want my future to look like, I’m going to show them this picture of Mickey and his fame whore fur ball. (I mean, look at how that pom is lighting up for the cameras.) Because living the life IS struttin’ around with a polyester slick-back granny wig on your head and a thirsty pom in your arm. I don’t know if Mickey doesn’t give one fuck or gives too many fucks, but I do know that he knows how to live.