|"Sometimes my arm gets stuck like this. And it hurts real bad."|
You all know I'm no stranger to celebrity gossip. I eat it up with a celebrity gossip spoon, something you can only get if you save four box tops of Fruity Pebbles and include ten dollars shipping and handling. As I caught up on what was going on in Tinseltown this morning, I couldn't help but skip over Katie Holmes' satin dress faux pas and catch the newest headline about Megan Fox, the star of such blockbusters as..........
...hold on, I dropped my spoon.
Anyhow, little lady was quoted as saying something to the effect of, "I live well with my image. I cannot complain. I would not trade my place with an unattractive girl."
It was time to do what I do in every situation where I pretend to be mad at a celebrity, hand the twins a gallon of Goldfish crackers and write a letter. Out came the quill, ink, parchment and ceiling wax, and I was off to the races. As always, I demand you read it before I send it. Otherwise, she might realize errors were made in spelling, grammar, or style, and then I'll get a letter back containing something to the effect of,
The word is "right" not "write", rite?
A Letter To Megan Fox
Dear Ms. Fox,
How are you? Please don't write back elaborating on that question because it's what's called a "pleasantry", not to be confused with "pheasantry", because that isn't a word, and you know nothing about birds, regardless. (Ok, I was assuming that you don't know anything about birds. If you do, my apologies, but please don't write back about birds because I really don't care for them.)
I understand you're happy not being ugly. This doesn't bother me so much as the fact you've never tried being unattractive. And don't put your hand up like, "Oh yes I have," because I had to Google you to get a picture and all I got was questionable, questionable material.
It sounds like I'm berating the fact you enjoy being pretty. I'm not. Why I'm taking the time out of staring at my neighbors doing lawn work for, is because I'm greatly concerned you've never thought about joining Team Ugly. I'm not talking about Elephant Man territory, but perhaps, I can persuade you to join myself and the masses.
For instance, did you know, if you become a real person, you don't have to wear a bra to the grocery store? People won't look because of the large sweatshirt you'll be trading your bra for. I haven't owned a bra for three years, although I keep duct tape around for weddings and such.
Look at me. I'm happy, well-adjusted, haven't brushed my hair since December of 2009. Now that I only shower on Saturday's I don't have to worry about solicitors, Jehovah's Witnesses, or people telling me my children ran away, again. The only ones brave enough to ring my doorbell are the kids selling candy bars, and only because they know I'm good for a case and will, per their agreement, wait for me to slide the money under the door.
All I'm asking is that you go one weekend without tweezing, waxing, brushing, and make-up. And maybe consider wearing a shirt you bought from Goodwill that says, "My Best Friend is A Care Bear. You're life may just change for the better.
Until Next Time, Readers!