Tuesday, December 12, 2006

*SLAP*

Someone recently sent me a celebrity survey asking, "Who would you want to be best friends with" (John Waters), "Who would you want to call for advice" (Amy Sedaris), and, my personal favorite,

"Who do you want to slap some sense into?"

Oh, dear. Where to even BEGIN?

Here's the thing: I am TIRED of all these young celebrity shenanigans, okay? It just WEARS ME OUT.

There is no good reason to be ridiculously malnutritioned and anorexic when you can afford a team of people to help you look thin and healthy. (This includes psychological help.)

There is absolutely no good reason to have your poorly-written, misspelled blackberry musings pasted all over the internets when you have a personal assistant handy to at least proofread some of that shit for you.

There is no good reason to be flashing your lady bits all over whatever when you can have a La Perla thong stashed in every possible purse, pocket and limo seat cushion imaginable. (And seriously, girls: WHY ARE WE NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR WITH OUR MINISKIRTS IN THE FIRST PLACE? WHEN DID THE VA-JAY BECOME THE SEASON'S MUST-FLASH ACCESSORY?)

Speaking of this horrific new "vadge as accessory" trend, there is absolutely no good reason to be whipping off your pants in public when you just get too hot while partying in Vegas, when you can send any one of your minions to Versace to pick up something more comfortable for dancing. People who are not famous don't take their pants off, for fear of becoming the latest YouTube joke, so what has to happen in a famous person's head to tell her that taking her pants off in a crowded club, with photographers, is an alright idea?

There is seriously, absolutely no good reason to get busted high or drunk on whatever driving your car the wrong way down the 134 at 4 in the morning, when even the average non-millionaire shmoe knows how to call a cab when she gets wasted. And YOU, my dear, can call town cars and limos & shit. Or, again, your assistant.

What the hell is going on? I'd accuse these morons of eating brain tumors for breakfast, Heathers-style, if I thought they ever even ate breakfast.

One theory: none of these chicks have positive female role models in their lives, clearly. They have Paris effing Hilton, which is 6 different kinds of SAD right there.

What they need, is one big sister each. At least one person in their lives to say the things every girl needs to hear from time to time. Like, "Don't call that guy." Or, "Ignore that bitch, she sucks and only wants to make you look bad so she looks better." Or, "Let's eat something delicious and not worry about our asses." Or, "Let's get blow-outs before hitting the premier so our hair doesn't look all stringy." Or, "Give me that blackberry." Or, apparently, "Ooh, honey, put your drawers back on before getting out of the limo in front of photographers, m'kay?"

I know, it's old news. Even the comedians won't touch it because it's all just old, sad news. It's just, you know. Just when you thought the wave of shenanigans was over? It begins anew. Some of these girls are actually talented, too. They have people pulling for them. Rooting for them. And they're just crapping all over whatever good will they receive.

I'm over it, girls. *SLAP* Snap out of it!

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Well said!

Beth

Allistair said...

I would slap the public for paying far too much attention to people that could give sweet fuck all about them. Get your own fucking life and put down the US Weekly.