February 24th, 2011
Pato’s Lady-Pulling Paradox: Passion Fruit Potion Or Poisonous Pimp Juice?
We’re going to go out on a limb here and stake our Pato claim: we.don’t.get.it.
Wait! Hear us out on this one.
Much of what we are about to say is meant in the nicest possible way, but can be interpreted as a plea for help. Make us understand, Kickettes: how is this AC Milan man regularly caught canoodling with high-profile/sometimes reputable birds, regardless of how silly his nickname and attire are?
Trust, we want to be Church of Pato’s Pimpin’ converts. Amidst being left alone and afraid, though, our staff concluded that his secret sauce boils down to 2/3 cups of John Mayer-like lothario lovin’ mixed with 1/3 cup of the youngest Jonas Brother’s curly tendrils.
Yes – although we’ve wasted precious eyelid staring hours negotiating the appropriate doses of each celebrity lady killer, we really are all too lazy to give the JoBro kid a name through Google. Some things never change.
For the love of all things holy, dear readers, please submit your virgin version of his semi-sly seduction cocktail (2.5 nauseating hours of ‘Dora The Explorer’ daytime telly with his lady friend’s kids, perhaps?) or provide photographic evidence of anything other than his abs and VPL as your counter-argument.
While our inboxes load, let’s enjoy(?) the sight of Barbara Berlusconi visually venturing into Pato’s pants at a restaurant in Milan. Even through the ghosts of relationship-ridiculousness past (she gave George Valaguzza the boot last week; catch up on the Pato/Sthef saga here if you were lucky enough to escape our previously incessant updates), story has it that Barbara managed a brave, blushing face whilst flirting with the Serie A wunderkind.
Our soapboxes support a woman’s right to hussydom, but the fine blend of real and bottle blonds at Kickette HQ find her root to highlight ratio moderately offensive for a woman of her income level. If our daddy was worth his weight in the world’s prostitutes, we’d expect a stupendously sizable allowance to cover the cost of a live-in colorist, along with Joe Hart and Niko Kranjcar for our pleasure chests.
Basically, we’re feeling rather apathetic towards this profitable potential pairing.
Still, your task is clear. Salvage the brain cells we’ve burned and send us good news of Pato penning a cheesy love ballad featuring words that rhyme with his real name (Alexandre Rodrigues da Silva).