February 14, 2017
The honeymoon is so over. No, I’m not referring to my presidency. I’m talking about life with the first lady. When she speaks to me at all, Melania calls me “Da Pussygrabber.” And not in a good way.
When I come back to New York for a weekend visit, she goes to Florida. When I go to Florida, she often heads back to New York. It’s like her version of a two-state solution and it’s working out about as well as the one in the Middle East.
People, I’m embarrassed to say this, but I think she’s trying to avoid having sex with me. Me, Super Baby DonDon, catnip to women and possessor of such a manhood—well, I told you about that already. This no-sex policy led me to say, “Hey, I bought you breast enhancements, let Super Baby DonDon see them, you Slovenian witch! You showed them to everyone in GQ, what about me?”
So tonight I, the studmuffin of Pennsylvania Avenue, will be sitting at home eating a Big Mac and watching Hannity. At least I know he loves me.
Sad.
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