A sincere (about 97%) letter to Taylor Lautner

Dear Taylor,

Can I do a thing we never do with you? No no no not take you down to Chris Hansen’s office & turn ourselves in. I mean talk to you girl to man for a sec without bringing up Olive Garden [except to say that Mr. Choice went there last week because he was wooed by their “two entrees for $12.95” special and was pretty disappointed to learn that the Tuscan Training every chef goes through is actually a conference room rented in a strip mall off a highway in Italy that a regional manager gets to go to every 5 years.] And I won’t even bring up Big Daddy Lautner (but where ARE you Daniel?)

Remember when you looked like this?

and sounded like Kermit the frog when you said “Scary Story?”

Well….. something changed. You almost lost your job. And then you fought to earn your place. Armed with little baggies of meat

And did you ever.

The awkward kid with the boy voice & karate-chop moves turned into a ripped man with terribly guido-esque gelled hair. (Who seems to still hold on to those Karate Chop moves…)

But it was a start. After the baggies of body enhancing drugs meat did their thing & you solidified your role as THE Jacob Black, you continued to blossom.

You started drinking more water without your shirt:

And now you wear shirts with polarizing messages:

(pretty sure that’s photoshopped FYI)

And you landed the cover of GQ

Probably the first virgin ever to do so

You could’ve looked like this:

But instead you look like this:

TAYLOR WITH A WOLF! I GET IT!

You know you’ve made it when you are the butt of everyone’s joke:

And someone carves the fat version of you into a pumpkin:

What I’m trying to say is, Taylor: I’m glad you ate those baggies of meat-roids. I’m glad you fought for your right to be dumped by the girl you love and fall in love with her half-human child when it was still a baby. I’m glad you mentioned liking the Olive Garden one time so that we could make it out to be the only place you ever eat (it is, right?) And I’m glad your dad could beat up any Edward-Cullen sized guy who tried to steal the girl you love in real life. All while eating the entire stock of his local McDonald’s breakfast menu. You did it. You ARE Jacob Black. And I’m not sure I ever told you I thought so. I’m not sure I ever really admitted it until now.

Warm fuzzies forever,
UnintendedChoice

Something I learned while doing research for something other than pictures of Taylor & Olive Garden is that there are Jacob & Bella Fan Vids:

Try not to cry during this one kids.. and cry over the emotion, not just his terrible DEP-gel filled hair:

When did you realize Taylor WAS Jacob Black?

Thanks to our pals at Adventures in Twilighting for finding that fat Taylor pumpkin! Hilarious