Mickey Rourke realizes he’s not a complete eye-sore. Takes action.
Here’s Mickey Rourke in Paris, and I don’t even know. It’s like he looked in the mirror and said, “I want to look like a blue Michael Jackson. Except with a hat that suggests I enjoy Budweiser out of a can and date rape.”
OR he could’ve just snorted coke off a hooker then ran in and out of his closet until something stuck. Probably that.