|BARE-CHESTED ROB LOWE NUZZLES HIS BARE-CHESTED SON'S SHOULDER |
and yet I see nothing wrong with this. JESUS CHRIST! I MUST BE DYING!
From Rob Lowe’s memoir, Love Life, published by Simon & Schuster
A dear friend (not the one who wears Crocs or the one who went to Paris without me, the one who steals my hooker shoes when I’m not looking) sent me a link to a touching story about how Rob Lowe’s heart is breaking because his son is going off to college.
"Is it just me or is there something very Catholic priest about the way he is kissing his boy’s naked shoulder," she wondered?
Well of course, coming fresh off the high of assuming 13-year-old Willow Smith is being molested by a 20-year-old while her parents look on and eat popcorn, I couldn’t wait to clap my eyes on this fresh horror. So I clicked, and … hm. Well this is interesting. No “ew,” no crawling skin, no urge to shriek something cruel and possibly libelous about how Rob Lowe is going to be his own grandson’s father someday.
In fact, not only did I not immediately assume the worst but I actually misted up a little and remembered the bittersweet day my own loinfruit left home for university.
“I’m not sure I agree with you,” I emailed my friend. “This doesn't look creepy to me at all. Which obviously means I’m desperately ill and might be dead by tomorrow." *checks pulse, gulps* Is Moron Flu contagious? It is? Jesus. Well, it’s been nice knowing all of you …