I say ‘reunited’ because in all those hours of watching Hannah Montana from the privacy of my shame closet, I always felt like Miley Cyrus was talking right back to me. My girl. We had a relationships, of sorts. But then she had to go and get engaged to Liam Hemsworth at 19 years of age and ruin everything. Now, where Miley’s from, 19 might be the age when the town elders get together and order you to be married and pregnant within the month or labeled a spinster lesbian, giving up all your rights to ever drive-thru the town Arby’s, but, to me, it always seemed a little young to be betrothed. Now, thankfully, that nightmare is over and Miley are I are free to be together in a more reciprocating, less TV screen humping, type manner.
If you hear gravelly voiced female moans of ecstasy emanating from the Superior Inn Motel in the Valley, don’t come a ‘knockin’. That’s just Miley and me winding our clocks for Daylights Savings Time.