Marry me, Tiger: I could use the money

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Mike Parente, GoLocalProv Sports Editor

Fellow peasants, put down your coupons.

wedding

Take a break from balancing your limited budget or hang up the phone on that surly agent at the unemployment office, because Elin Nordegren just spilled her guts to “People” magazine about how much life sucks as a stinkin’ rich bombshell with the world by the balls.

Look, divorces aren’t fun, but neither is being jobless, homeless, hopeless or all of the above, which accurately describes 9.5 percent of this country right now as America’s unemployment rate continues to rise.

At the risk of sounding misogynistic, I doubt those of us struggling to pay our mortgages on a monthly basis are feeling sorry for Elin while she wipes away her post-divorce tears with Tiger Woods’ hard-earned PGA Tour money. You just don’t have the stones to say what everyone else is thinking, which is why I’m such a valuable asset in these times of political correctness.

As you’ve probably heard by now, Woods’ ex-wife walked away with $750 million and sole custody of their two children in what has to be the most lucrative celebrity divorce settlement in the history of mankind, all because Tiger couldn’t keep his cub in its cage.

Tiger’s infidelity with a variety of Applebee’s bar skanks has not only ruined countless Sunday afternoons for balding, middle-aged men, but it’s also made a former department-store clerk/Swedish magazine model/indentured servant filthy freakin’ rich beyond her wildest dreams.

The Nordegren timeline is as follows: While scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets as pro golfer Jesper Parnevik’s nanny, she met Tiger in 2001; they tied the knot in ’04; she won a cool, $180 grand in ’07 in a libel lawsuit after an Irish smut rag published a topless photo of her that turned out not to be her after all; and, most recently, she sashayed out of divorce court in June with Tiger’s manhood and more than half his money.

Call me insensitive, but that’s a pretty damn good decade if you ask me. I’d marry Katherine Heigl tomorrow and let her cheat on me eight days a week as long as I can pocket a mere third of that “Grey’s Anatomy” money on my way out of the courthouse. I’d even settle for the $300K she brought home for “Knocked Up.” I’m not greedy, unlike some people who think pain and suffering is worth the price of a small continent.

Time heals all wounds, and so does a crapload of Benjamins. Elin will be fine. The worst pain she’ll deal with is the embarrassment of knowing deep down that despite her flawless features and hourglass figure, Tiger still felt the need to go dumpster-diving for slump-busters after a grueling 18 holes at the Barclays.

(Sexual addiction, my ass – Tiger did it because he could, not because he’s infected with some rare strain of Prussian bird flu that triggers the evacuation slide in his khakis. If Tiger’s sick, then pass me the medication.)

Before you go postal and flood my inbox with hate mail, let me disclose that, yes, I believe money buys happiness and unequivocally solves all of our problems. A friend of mine told me she’s broke and still happy, to which I said, “You’re not happy – you’re just stupid.”

We’ve all dealt with pain and rejection in our lives, whether it’s personal or professional. I, for one, would love an alternative to feeling sorry for myself or popping Zoloft whenever I’m hurt, depressed or bummed out. My checkbook should be my anti-drug, because nothing turns that frown upside down faster than driving a fully-loaded Escalade off the lot or emptying the men’s department at Neiman Marcus. Thanks to Tiger’s trouser malfunction, Elin can take it one step further – she can buy the Dodgers.

I’m not blind to Elin’s emotional turmoil. I firmly believe she loved Tiger with all her heart. I also believe they had a feeling this glorified business arrangement might not stand the test of time, hence the gaudy prenuptial agreement signed by both parties on their wedding day in Barbados.

Elin’s no dummy. She probably watched a few episodes of “Basketball Wives” while folding Jesper’s tube socks and figured it’d be a good idea to set herself up for life financially in case her Cinderella story crashed harder than Nick Hogan.

While the majority of us work two, maybe three, jobs to make ends meet during this modern-day depression, Elin is $750 million richer for no reason other than having the foresight to marry a manwhore with a vicious tee shot.

Sorry if I’m not cursing the Gods over Elin’s pain and suffering. Neither are the rest of us still stuck in the unemployment line. We’re too busy collecting loose change between our couch cushions.