Dear Spencer and Heidi,
Congratulations on your engagement! A rich blonde with fake boobs marrying her
“producer/manager”(thanks to daddy’s money) boyfriend? How unique! And I must give an extra hurrah to Heidi’s loyalty to Spencer. Not only did he try to date one of your best friends, talk shit about your other best friend and tell Playboy models he would have a “naked picnic” with them WHILE he was dating you, BUT it was ALL on tape, aired on MTV with possible summer reruns. And yet, somehow, despite looking like a complete moron on T.V., you're STILL with him! Loyal simply isn't a good enough word to describe you Heidi. I think the word “lapdog” hits it right on the money. And NOW, to prove your devotion and love of dog biscuits, you’re marrying HIM! I bet your momma is proud and really, all of womankind salutes you for being the fresh face of feminism and empowerment. Brava.
I’m twittering with excitement about your upcoming marriage! That is if “twittering” means having diarrhea stomach and trying to hold back vomit, tears and laughter at the same time.....then YES, I’m definitely “twittering.” (Can someone enter that word into Wikepedia for me? Thanks.) The only thing I ask from both of you is to please get yourselves spade or neutered, as a way to ....ummm.... HONOR Bob Barker’s upcoming retirement.
Yeah. That’s it.
Ok, ok, I can’t lie. To be honest, I’m afraid of the future offspring that two people, (one being a horn dog and the other being a lap dog,) both with a very high concentrated amount of douche, stupid, unwarranted self importance and saline, could possibly produce. A Corgi with body image issues who throws up every bowl of Alpo she’s ever eaten? A pit bull who will try to dry hump your leg, hit on the hot Pug bitch next door and talk on his cell phone with his friends about the bitches he's banging ....all at the same time?
Who knows? Either way, it can’t be a good combination.
So sew it up or cut it off.
What’s the French word for SON? Because I think someone forgot to inform you that YOU have a SON. Unless you want him to become the football team’s punching bag in high school, how about scheduling a visit to Fantastic Sam’s? Or, if you like that long flowing Ozzy Osborne circa 1977 type of look, how about NOT shopping for his clothes at The Limited Two? How about more plaid and less glitter? His name is Rene for goodness sakes’ and from the back, you can pretend he’s the girl you never had. But if you want to save him a few visits to the therapist’s office, some black eyes and save yourself from a “Mommy Dearest” tell all book 20 years from now, let’s butch up your son a tad shall we? Call Rosie O’Donnell stat. I believe Rosie’s got emergency sleeveless plaid shirts, a pair of Dickies, white tennis shoes, a Melissa Ethridge CD and a sweaty baseball cap that just might fit sweet little Rene.
Yes. Call Rosie. She'll probably caulk your tub and fix your plumbing for free too.
Dear Pamela Anderson’s doctors,
Is it really nice to take advantage of your best customer? I know that it’s pretty much guaranteed that Pamela’s going to be on your cutting board every month from now until gravity is still in existence, but come on! Let’s not get sloppy with our work! Taking her nipples, throwing them into the air and sewing them on wherever they land is not proper bedside manner for a doctor. Even for a plastic surgeon! You should all be ashamed of yourselves. True, her nipples don't actually have any function at this point and really, they’re just a formality, but still. Not cool. Next time, might I suggest making them detachable? That way, when it gets cold or her dress is simply too scandalous for nipples, she can take them off and wear them as earrings or simply put them in her purse for later use.
Just a suggestion.
Actually, you know what? Scratch that. The more I look at her picture the more I’m enjoying the fact that one nipple can almost be her Adam’s apple. Next time, when throwing her nipples into the air, throw them near her face, sew them on and tell her that they’re brand new, “high fashion” mole implants. She’ll think she’s cool and no one else will notice because, really, who has looked directly at her face since 1992?
Nicole Ritchie, that’s who:
And from the looks of Nicole, we now know instinctively not to look Pamela directly in the face lest we want to have that chic Ethiopian look about us. Complete with disentended belly. Actually, I think we can blame Nicole's distrubing belly and pterodactyl feet on Paris.
In fact, let's blame everything on Paris.
Who thinks Global Warming would stop if Paris just closed her gap?
Show of hands.
(Wow. I'm taking digression to all new levels today aren't I?)
Anyways, blah blah, Keep up the good work Pamela's doctors!
Man, sometimes I just cannot shut up. Sorry about that guys. I don't know where my "off" button is. Have a great weekend everybody! And if anyone cares, I'm suffering SEVERE Madonna withdrawals and have brought back my Madonna blog: "Kiss Me Mrs. Ritchie" for self medicating purposes.
Everyone is more than welcome to watch my sickness grow to beyond disturbing.