Ladies, I know what you think about my husband, Justin Trudeau.
Every press event there’s another sexually-aroused person throwing their maple-soaked panties at the hem of Justin’s boot. You want to ride him from the valleys of Ottawa to the peak Mount Logan. And if you truly understood Justin, you’d know that Mount Logan is our nation’s highest point. But you didn’t know that because you’re literally the last people to hop on this lubed-up bandwagon.
You all act like you’re the first to be attracted to a blue-eyed prime minister, wielding the authority of the ninth most powerful developed country. Listen, everyday I wake up moist because Justin Trudeau is my bed companion. Nothing about his handsome, boyish charm ever gets old. There’s nothing you can tell me about Justin that I haven’t basked in every day of our decade-long marriage.
Please understand me if I haven’t been clear.He’s the Canadian Kennedy without the mobster ties. Who do you think he’s using those MMA moves on? Me. He handstands on my breasts and we make loving eye contact until we simultaneously orgasm. Every. Single. Day. I’m living your dream life.
Picture: Edmonton Journal