Dear George Clooney,
I was shocked to hear that you have hooked up with Pamela Anderson. I get you're denying it now, but I also know you're a boob-man. Although, when we were together, you were adamantly opposed to me getting breast implants in my multiple hoopdie-hoops (primarily because I wanted you to pay for them). I have to imagine, despite your fascination with her enormous knockers, there isn't much else there that will keep you together.
While I don't miss your whiny, late-night drunk dials, I have to say I'm a bit jealous. Crap. Did I just say that? There was a time when you had pledged your smoldering eyes and firm booty to me--and only me. I know it's been years since we shared kibble by candle light, took long walks on the beach (during which you had to carry me, as the risk of me getting swept up in the surf was just too high), enjoyed steamy nights by the fire, and I endured you standing outside my window with a boom box, professing your love. I did sort of expected you to remain faithful to me. Even though I have taken on a stable of super-sexy tomcats.
What can Pamela Anderson give you that I could not? Yes, she is tall. Yes, she is allowed to go outside of the house at-will. Yes, she is blonde. And yes, she has enormous cans. But she is not as super-sexy as me. She is not as talented as me (ref: "Barb Wire"). And, while my jugs might be inferior in size, I have more of them.
Let me know if there is anything beyond the boobs,
Oprah (notice there is no "dear" here!),
I know you felt betrayed and devastated when your relative dished to a tabloid magazine that you had a teen pregnancy. I'd think you'd be glad that you have proof that you've actually had sex with a man! I mean, we get that Gayle King is your BFF, but I'm starting to think, in your case, BFF doesn't mean Best Friend Forever as much as it might mean Boy-Friend Fill-in.
Think about it.
Dear Isaiah Washington,
Rehab? Really, Isaiah? For making an anti-homosexual slur? Rehab is for addicts. Are you telling us you are addicted to hating gays?
Can I get a "WHOOT-WHOOT" for my gays?
Dear Tom Cruise,
I got an email today from ¶¿¥«˜£Â¼š with some interesting news about some amazing "Penis Enlargement Breakthroughs!"
I'll forward it to you. Unless the good folks at the Scientology Celebrity Centre are still working to create a robotic appendage for you...
Are you pickin' up what I'm throwin' down?
Skank Hilton (of the Parisian variety),
Whew. Where do I start? I get you're frustrated that a storage facility auctioned off your belongings when you failed to pay the rental fee for your 6,000 sq. ft. storage unit. (Which, by the way, is roughly 6x larger than my home.) Welcome to the world of the working-class. Talk to the millions of impoverished people who store their shit because they have been evicted or had their homes in foreclosure and, due to their lack of funds, lose their belongings to auction.
You thought the moving company was going to pay the storage fees? Are you that out-of-touch with the real world or just on crack? I've never...ever...heard of a moving company that takes on the debts of its customers.
But, then again, you are Paris Hilton.
I have to say, it seems a bit coincidental that these private and personal nude photos and videos of you keep "leaking" to the public. A word of advice: QUIT GETTING NEKKID WHEN THE CAMERAS ARE ON YOU!
Oh, and buy a shredder for your bank statements if you don't want the people who perpetually nose around in your garbage to see them. You can get one at Staples for only $19.98. Talk to your moving company. I'm sure they'll foot the bill.
Completely unrelated, but just about as disturbing: What's up with the brown eyes as a child and blue now? You're not fooling anyone. Unless you used the storage unit money to have iris-replacement surgery...
I'm just sayin'.
Dear R&B crooner, Lumidee,
"She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze? Seriously? Of all the songs you could cover, you chose this one?''
What's next? "Party All the Time" with guest vocalist Eddie Murphy?
My girl wants to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time...