Lucky Mila. She gets to kick off her weekend knowing Charlie Sheen is vigorously imagining himself engaged in a frenzied foursome with her and his two interchangeable, and - by all accounts - light fingered blondes.
Let the crazed ramblings commence:
"Here's the good news - my goddesses have already f**king approved her. She's pre-approved! I would have great tolerance for many missing items provided it involves Mila f**king Kunis: If Mila Kunis is stealing your s**t, trust me, you're still f**king winning, you're still winning at that moment. I'm going to go on her Facebook page and discover her likes... I'm going to buy them all and then she can come steal them. A super f**king hot thief named Mila Kunis. Mila, please, we we have a warehouse full of your favorite s**t to steal."
Sounds like his time would be better spent looking on eBay for the all the sh*t his thieving goddesses have "stolen" on him. Just like that prostitute "stole" his watch in the Plaza that time.
Poor Charlie, people keep stealing his sh*t, like his dog, his job, his children, his dignity... Ah well, maybe he can cheer himself with an ice ceam... Does anyone else feel like an ice cream? I do, and I've no idea why.