Today's Evil Beet Gossip

An Open Letter to Mike Sorrentino from His Abs

Dear Mike,

We are cold. We are chafed. We have been used on countless occasions as the intermediary between a drunk chick with thick legs and too much makeup and the penis we can only assume hangs somewhere, sadly, beneath our bulging, defined curves. It is dwarfed, really, by us. And that was fine for awhile. We could play wingman like that. We could fall on the grenade, our perfect form attacked again and again by the literal underbelly of the type of chicks you took home to bang before you got this television gig.

But it’s gone too far. We have become a prop in one of John Mayer’s jokes, like Jessica Simpson. We don’t like being touched so much. We don’t like being on display like this. We don’t like repping workout products. We’re not even especially impressive abs, when compared to, say, Matt Felker’s.

Please, please stop this insanity. Keep your clothes on, dude.

With all due respect,
Your Abs

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