Saturday, November 28, 2009

Do these tatoos make me look fat?

Hey Ladies!
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I was thinking about you yesterday as I saddled up to my extra-large trough of Thanksgiving yumminess.  It’s hard not to think about the hungry when you are working toward becoming a bloated cow during a meal.  I’m not talking about the hungry in a Sally Struthers way.  I’m talking about hungry people who deny they are hungry.  Because frankly, that is a weird thing to say when your entire skeletal system is visible to the naked eye.  Clearly, at least one of you is hungry.  The other two might be telling the truth.  You know the drill, “I just have a really high metabolism” or “I’m just built thin”.  That works for possibly 50% of the populations you have been pulled from.  The thing is, in the last 40 years there have been hundreds of super-famous models and actresses, and for the most part they all look just like you. There is no way ALL of you are built thin or have super charged metabolisms.  Stop being so modest!  Where is your endorsement from The World Food Bank?  I think it’s high time someone thanked you for the sacrifice you are making for trough dwellers like me.  I am guessing that aside from Jolie sucking bone marrow from the turkey carcass yesterday, you three went completely without.  And for that, I am grateful.  Yesterday, you put my dreams before yours, and when I am the next subject of “One Ton Mom”, I will not forget to say thank you to those who abstain from food.  Without you, there would not be enough for me.  Stay strong girls!

Happy Thanksgiving!

So What?  You're Famous.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Plus 8, you need to divorce your parents

Dear Plus 8,


Look at you!  You’re like a tiny little gang. A few well placed tattoos and a vice grip on some toy shipments and you could wield some real power. Speaking of power, you people need to wise up. Cumulatively you are fifty-years-old, and it’s time to start making some real world decisions.  Your parents are hogging ALL the spotlight, and they’re not even cute.  Your dad runs around like an impish gigolo, which is disgusting, and your mother has morphed into Posh Spice.  It’s time for a coup, Plus 8.  Big time.

I know what you’re thinking, “parents are supposed to embarrass their kids, it’s like their job”, and that is true.  My dad used to drop me off in front of my high school in a Ford F350 and scream out the window, “Giiirl, don’t you forget to feed them hogs when you get home!” while I ran crying into the bathroom.  And looking back, I should have divorced his ass after the first incident.  I mean, that is simply too realistic to be funny in Arkansas.  Great, now I’m all distracted and re-mad.  Thanks a lot, Dad! 

Back to you , Plus 8.  Let’s do a quick recap, in case your memories have not completely developed.  Your parents decided to bring a litter of children into the world, even though three is pretty much maximum capacity in a human womb.  Then, to offset the astronomical price of eight children, they make their family (80% of whom are incapable of consent on any level) the subject of a reality television show.  This, of course, creates a false sense of celebrity, fame and importance and their marriage implodes.  But wait, that’s the comparatively good part!  Your father proceeds to go buckass-crazy and starts dressing like he’s twelve and sleeping with whatever dimwit steps in his path.  He then empties the family bank account, hooks up with more dimwits, inspires the creation of the word “mantrum” and finally lands in the lap of Rabbi Shmuley and claims he’s going on a vision quest or some bullshit.  In the mean time, your mom cultivates her inner Victoria Beckham and consequently the entire country dresses up as your parents for Halloween.  You’ve got enough parental boo-boos for decades of therapy, and only a heartless monster judge could deny you your divorce.  I think you’ve got this in the bag.  Good luck Plus 8!   

Sincerely,

So What?  You're Famous.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Yeah monkey, I’m talking to you

clip_image001Hey Curious George,

You’re not fooling anyone with that  name of yours.  That’s like Playful Genghis or Accepting Adolph.  Not buying it!  Through heroic investigative reporting, I located a photo of you and that insufferable ding-dong you live with reading a book.  I find this infuriating because most of the mayhem you cause in your community is based on your alleged illiteracy.  Remember when you risked the lives of all the animals in the zoo because you couldn’t read the Don’t Feed the Animals sign?  Or the time you totally destroyed that poor woman’s boutique because you didn’t understand math and gave everything away for free?  What about the time you fell in the lake and almost drowned that little boy who tried to save you because you ignored the No Fishing sign?  I’m sick of it George.  How many must suffer at your malicious little monkey hands?

I don’t know how the people of your cartoon community put up with your bullshit or your handler’s all yellow wardrobe.  I assume they feel sorry for both of you because you’re a giant fuck up and he’s obviously insane.  However, I for one, think something needs to be done.  Perhaps you need The Dog Whisperer or Super Nanny.  Either way, I’m banning you in my house until you get yourself under control.  How you rigged this bizarre living situation you’ve got going in Toonville is a mystery, but I’m pretty sure there are laws protecting humans from malignant monkeys.  Watch yourself, George.  I’m alerting the authorities.

Sincerely,

So What?  You're Famous.

P.S. And to you, Man in the Yellow Hat, get that monkey out of the bed.  It’s creepy and unsanitary.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Rush Limbaugh smells like bacon, and i like that about him

Dear Rush,

That bacon smell isn’t the only thing I like about you. Personally, I don’t take anyone seriously if they don’t have jowls. How can you get your point across if you don’t have jowls to shake? Some people just don’t get you. But, that’s because they’re ugly. Jealousy brings out the worst in people!
Why am I speaking for you? You said it best, “Feminism was established so to allow unattractive women easier access to mainstream society”. Boo-yah! In your face, bitches! Why don’t you start an ugly colony in the wilderness and leave beautiful Rush to lead the foxy parade?
Little known fact about you Rush, you’re bravery has human limitations. You would have taken your hot ass overseas and stunned the Vietcong with your beauty if it weren’t for your harrowing battle with Pilonidal Disease. How could you be expected to fight in a war when you were battling an ingrown butt hair? For God’s sake, you’re only one man!
Keep up the good work, Rush. Someday everyone will realize, as I have, that you are much more than a pretty, porcine face. And best wishes on the butt hairs, that is quite an affliction!

xxoo,

So What?  You're Famous.

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Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Seacrest, get real.

Dear Ryan,
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Hey there crazy-face, I heard you got a stalker.  I have to say, it’s basically the most horrifying scenario one can imagine.  Your stalker walks into a building you were not in, and flashes a pocket knife.  I can’t imagine anything more frightening.  Are you ok?  Oh wait, you found the strength to update your Twitter account in response to the concern of fans, “Thanks I’m fine….happy it’s Friday”.  Well that’s good, belated TGIF to you too, Ryan.



Yeah right Seacrest! You’re less stalkable than Andy Dick.  Who stalks you?  The worst part is, you probably perceive this as an indication of your immeasurable fame and appeal.  No.  This incident says one of two things:
  1. A deranged man saw your rage inducing face hosting some bullshit television show and it drove him over the edge.  His blinding anger (again, caused by your face) prevented him from finding the correct building and whittling you.
  2. Some guy with a pocket knife on his key chain wandered into a building loosely associated with you, and has become the victim of your colossal narcissism.
Please don’t hesitate to retire into seclusion to prevent further stalking.  We don’t want any more pocket knife wielding maniacs coming out of the woodwork.

Sincerely,

So What?  You're Famous.