Tiger Woods is probably in rehab, probably letting a man in a lab coat shout at his penis for being a naughty boy.
But that’s not the end. Because even if Tiger Woods does get cured of his addiction to having sex with dozens of leathery collagen globs, we still wouldn’t know all the details of the car crash that started this mess in the first place. Except now we do. And as it turns out, all the details are all hilarious.
That’s only if you find screaming matches, anonymous woman-on-woman sexual text messages and the thought of Tiger Woods blootered on Ambien trying to drive a car in a straight line hilarious, of course. Which you’d better do, or else we’re going to have to disown you.
OK, so this much we know about Tiger Woods – he cheated on his wife with several cocktail waitress, all of whom have far too many vowels in their names and skin that you could upholster saddles with. We also know that, as a result of this, his wife appears to be keen to divorce him for $300 million – meaning that, to make the money back, Tiger Woods will be forced to start endorsing something more attuned to his new fanbase like inflatable sex dolls or grubby, sperm-stained, full-length raincoats.
But until recently we didn’t know the story behind the car crash that propelled Tiger’s indiscretions into the news. Sure, we may have seen the photo-realistic Chinese animations of the story, but that just wasn’t hilarious enough for us.
Now, though, journalist Gerald Posner – who claims to have spoken to two sources about the crash – has pieced it all together, and appeared on the Today show yesterday to explain what happened. According to Posner it all started in November, when Tiger Woods warned his wife Elin Nordegren that the National Enquirer was about to romantically link him with Rachel Uchitel, but reassured her that the story was false. He even arranged a meeting between Nordegren and Uchitel to prove how platonic their relationship was.
That didn’t stop Tiger Woods and Nordegren from having an argument about it on Thanksgiving, though – an argument that Woods apparently brought to an end by necking an Ambien and going to sleep. And that’s when Elin Nordegren started the pretend text messages. Us Magazine reports:
She began texting Uchitel, pretending to be Woods. She wrote, “I miss you,” and asked, “When are we seeing each other again?” Uchitel texted back. At that point, Elin called Uchitel, who answered thinking it was Woods calling. Both sources say that Elin said something along the lines of: “I knew it was you.” “Oh fuck!” a surprised Uchitel blurted out and hung up.
At that point Elin Nordegren woke Tiger Woods up, started punching him on the chest and arms and chased him out of the house with a golf club. Tiger hopped into his car and, barely awake thanks to the Ambien, smacked into a fire hydrant and a tree. And the rest is history.
So now that we apparently know what happened that night, the moral of this Tiger Woods story has finally come to the surface. It’s ‘don’t take Ambien’. Or it’s ‘never leave your mistresses listed under their real names on your phone’. Or it’s ‘always keep a secret phone with the contact details of your sexual conquests separate to your regular phone’. Or it’s ‘don’t plant trees at the end of your drive if you’re an Ambien-using philanderer.’
Or it’s ‘don’t cheat on your wife’. Look, it’s probably one of those, alright?
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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
You are funny Stuart!
It’s refreshing to read a gossip blog that’s intelligent & witty, instead of those the likes of E! which absolutely make my skin crawl all the way to Canada.
Keep up the good work.
I bet he now wishes his sport was tiddlywinks.
There’s fuck all money in it – but when your enraged wife is wielding nothing more deadly than a Squidger, you can probably stick your todger in whom you like without fear of sport-related harm.
This, always the best route, “always keep a secret phone with the contact details of your sexual conquests separate to your regular phone” & hide the damn thing.
Tiddlywinks, hahaha sort of what he was playing only with a real ‘tiddly’.