I always thought Jesse James was a Western outlaw who robbed trains and got shot in the back. But, apparently, there's another dude named Jesse James, who builds motorcycles or something, and is currently married to Sandra Bullock. That Jesse James - not the old dead dude but the living guy - almost ended up as dead as the other Jesse James when, late Sunday night, some wacky chick in a Mercedes tried to run his ass over in front of his and Sandra's home in Orange County. And this wasn't an accident, mind you - this chick was trying to commit vehicular homicide, and to make it worse, Sandra, as well as James's 10-year-old kid, were standing there and saw the whole crazy thing.
So what the hell was this daffy broad thinking anyway? Apparently, the woman, Marcia Valentine, has been obsessed with Sandra for years, and the murder attempt against James was the culmination of some delusional scenario. So, what, this bitch thought if she got Jesse out of the way she and Sandra would be lovers? Oh yeah, that's the way to someone's heart - bump off their significant other, then sit and wait for them to come to you. Sorry Marcia, but if that kind of shit worked, Crabbie would be a mass-murderer by now.
Anyway, poor old Marcia managed to flee the scene after the attempt on James's life, but she didn't elude police long, as a manhunt ended in her capture on Monday. Valentine is currently being held on charges of assault with a deadly weapon (which is what a Mercedes becomes when you try to mow someone down with it), and to make matters worse, her crazy face is now all over the Internet:
Dang. I haven't seen a mush that maniacal since this bitch:
By the way, whatever happened to Wilbanks? Is she still mowing lawns in her sweatpants? And another thing - that pic of Jesse and Sandra at the top. Take ourselves a bit seriously Jesse? What is it with all these hardcore tattoo people? Is every last one of them a humorless, grim-faced shit? Dang man, lighten up. It's only life. What, your old man cuffed you around when you were a kid, so now you think the world is supposed to act like every time you breathe it's the most important thing that ever happened? Oh, my traumas - they're so traumatic. If I crack a smile people might not think I'm the toughest bastard on earth, and my wounded little childish ego can't take it. God, is there anything in the world lamer than some big meathead with a bunch of tattoos who thinks the sun rises and sets on his bad attitude? Get over yourself Jesse. Or better yet, the next time some crazy broad wants to plow you with her expensive foreign automobile? Just lay down on the ground and let her flatten your skull. If life is really as miserable as you pretend, it should be a relief to you.
(source)
