I know, I know. It’s only Tuesday and you are already over this shit. Chillax; that margarita is already in your sights, my beloveds!
Let’s get back to talking about people who are inferior to you. Rumors have been floating (started by a newly red-headed person’s publicist) that Lindsay Lohan is being considered to host Saturday Night Live for the third time.
This is on the heels of what the New York Daily News called a “well-received taped bit on MTV’s “Video Music Awards.”" Honestly, I’m too old and jaded to give a shit about what happens on any award show (when will my thank-you-note-writing skills be recognized?), so I didn’t catch the VMA’s, but I’m mildly skeptical about said skit’s level of reception.
While I recognize the value of Lindsay poking fun at herself once again (just like the last two times), knowing that Lindsay will probably continue to score Oxycontin and mow down babies, or whatever the hell she does these days, really makes it more depressing than funny. Don’t you agree?
Here’s Raggedy Anne at LAX yesterday being forcibly presented with a shirt by, I’m guessing, a designer of tank tops looking into guerrilla marketing via desperate celebrity stalking. Congrats, lady!
This last part is a direct message to Lindsay, so feel free to go back to searching for internet porn or posting your dog’s picture on Facebook for a minute: Lindsay. Doll. With all the love in my heart and the ricotta in my cannoli, I respectfully request that you leave your lips alone! The power of Christ compels you! Lips are important for all kinds of things: kissing, smoking, applying all manner of lipstick and gloss, eating sandwiches (that’s really the only important one). Be kind to your lips and unicorns will come through you window at night and leave bags of gumdrops and cash by your bedside. Trust me on this one.
Hugs and kisses (and gumdrops and sandwiches; I wonder if 7-11 is open?),
Signed some random lady who doesn’t know you and should mind her own business.