After I read what you’re about to read (and comment on), I had a thought, “I wonder if I can completely debase myself in less words than Kris did it in?” So, here it goes:

I’ve only man-dated a couple of guys. I’m very picky about the type of guys I do chick stuff with.

(Pretty good, huh?)

That will make sense after you read all of this.

Before Wade & I spent many nights infatuated with the O.C and comparing women to the careers of ex-NBA players, there was one…

His name is Kris Pair.

The problem with Kristy is that he knows way too much about me. To him and his wife, Sharla (who I’ve been seeing for the better part of the last seven years), nothing I do can possibly be surprising. After Kris got married, we stopped man-dating. We were both hurt, and it just made sense.

A lot of pain still there so I’m going to keep moving.

The following is a blog written by Kris Pair, as J-Ri, making a complete mockery of, well, everything about me. I’m so humble that I’ll allow you to read it. My meekness and unassuming nature cannot be matched in all of the earth.

Enjoy!

As I was sitting on the couch last night finishing my fourth bowl of Strawberry Cheerios and watching a random chick-flick — which shall remain nameless to protect my already reeling reputation (I.e. this) — I had one of those moments of deep introspection. You know, the kind that are reminiscent of a daydream where you disappear from reality like J.D. from Scrubs and return only to say something absurd like, “we’re gonna’ need a lot of gnomes.” Anyway, this one was about all the obsessions that have dictated my emotions and commanded my attention for the full twenty-eight years I have been alive. As my mind continued to wander, I realized the list was growing astronomically, just like Tara Reid’s chest after her ninth enhancement. The list included things like:

- The O.C
- Anything with Jean-Claude Van Damme
- The “WO” Dance
- Chocolate Lasagna from Olive Garden (Don’t ask…Seriously)
- Petite white girls with short brown hair
- Kobe Bryant and D-Wade
- My “Man Crush” on Brad Pitt (Honestly who doesn’t)
- Jokes about Rosie O’Donnell and Tyra Banks

This list could probably go on for a while. When the dust finally settled, only two remained standing to battle it out for undisputed champion of J-Ri’s heart.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Ladies and Gentlemen:

In the Blue Corner; weighing in at 3,210 pounds; wearing the Purple and Gold trunks: The Los Angeles Lakers!

And in the Red Corner; tipping the scales at 130 … 125 … 120 … 115 … 112; out of Waco, Texas: Jennifer Love Hewitt!

“Are You Ready to Ruuummmble? (Did you really just say it in your head like that? You should be ashamed of yourself)

I was on the edge of my chair, eyes wide and nervous with anticipation; much like what Michael Jackson felt the day he opened the theme park in his back yard.

No sooner had the bell rang than Kobe had jumped out of the ring and fled at a blazing speed screaming something about all white girls being from Colorado. Suddenly realizing that they were completely incapable of defending themselves (especially from someone who could talk to ghosts), the rest of the team frantically followed Kobe to the jewelry store in search of the most ridiculously priced piece of jewelry they could find to regain their wives loyalty. (Andrew Bynum was later found in Memphis holding both of his knees.)

As sad as I was that the Lakers had lost again, the consolation that it hadn’t been at the hands of Boston made the pain more bearable.

Of course, this scandalous turn of events left J-Love as the victor by default. I rushed to the ring, anxious to crown her as my #1 obsession. As I was placing the belt around her 7″ waist, we shared a most magical moment as Brian McKnight passionately sang “You’re the Only One For Me” in the background. I was so caught in the moment that I didn’t realize I wasn’t sitting in the living room any longer. When I finally came back to reality, I found myself alone, naked, starch sweaty-hot naked, in a steamy bathroom looking at a note written on a foggy mirror.

“I know what you’ve been dreaming about! … And by the way, I’ve been sleeping with your friend Ricky.”

I’m glad that’s over.

If you don’t know me very well (or at all), you may be thinking, “That guy sounds more superficial than a silicone factory.” While I’m not sure silicone is made in a factory, I am sure that I’m not nearly as petty and one dimensional as he made it sound.

Unless Kris finds out I’ve been seeing his wife.

But I’m sure that won’t happen.

XoXo;
~J-Ri

*Disclaimer: It should be noted that the previous blog does not necessarily reflect the views of J-Ri, J-Ri’s alter ego super J-Ri, super-sexy J-Ri or J-Ri.com. All statements made by Mr. Pair are purely the opinion of the the Pair family and J-Ri.com is not responsible for any judgment you form about J-Ri because of them. We reserve the right to delete you as a friend on Facebook if you send any distasteful or profanity-laced emails to J-Ri.