He fucked up my BFF's movie.
My BFF wrote the movie Slingshot. I read the original draft, and a lot of the novel. It was good stuff. And then Arquette had to come along and fuck it all up. He wouldn't come back for reshoots because he had to go to a baby shower, which, by the way, REAL men don't attend. He rewrote a bunch of stuff. And he was just a general bag of douche, which, frankly, he doesn't have the power to be. You made Eight Legged Freaks, David. And last I checked, that didn't win an Oscar, so you don't have an excuse to swat a fly, let alone be a dick.
And now it comes out that he is splitting from only connection to the Hollywood scene, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective star Courtney Cox (teehee). He's done. He has nothing to offer anyone. He's a terrible actor who isn't good looking and who probably couldn't pick up rejects from Rock of Love.
The only upside is that if that he hadn't ruined the movie, my BFF would be in Hollywood instead of close to me, and we wouldn't have gone to grad school together and I wouldn't have a blog, which would be a drag.
So because I'm childish, and because I like to kick a man when he's down, today we're throwing:
A WHOLE FUCKING WEDDING CAKE!
That'll teach you to fuck up my BFF's movie, you pot-smoking, skank-banging, fashionless douche-bearded fat-headed sweathog!