Friday, October 19, 2007

she was such a pyt


I wasn't going to say anything. But I think we need to talk about Lindsay Lohan. I think it's time.

Linds. I really thought it was kind of lame when you went to rehab. Your heart is obviously not in it... I mean, you're 20 years old. You're gorgeous. You're rich. Everyone wants to be around you and party with you. You love cocaine. All these factors put together make it really difficult for any rational person to believe that you've seen the error of your ways and are really down to shape up and turn into... well, a real person. Also... while it was getting kind of scary seeing you spiral out of control like that (and sweetie we all love you and really do worry)... no one wants their Lohan taken away... what would we talk about? Britney? Please, it's too easy. No, while obviously we didn't want you weaving down Sunset at 2 am, putting all of our (read: my) lives at stake, it wouldn't do to have you out of the picture entirely either. Alas, with a tear in our eyes and a decline in the drug market, we watched you go.

And then you kind of did it. Even I, one of the biggest skeptics of your dedication to being "sober" - by which I mean even just sober enough to pass for sober - was kind of shocked by how good you seemed to be doing. You were white water rafting, you gained a couple of (much needed) pounds... you PICKED A PUMPKIN! You were on your way back to being... well, not crazy. Plus, I usually think blonde is your worst look, but your hair just looks really awesome right now, and you can't argue with that. Then, to top it off you(r publicist) set up some really effective paparazzi photos of you with your dad and like... standing it the woods and stuff, and you looked happy, and here's the key to this whole thing... people really want you to be happy. They really do, and so if you try to tell us you're happy and healthy, we are going to do everything in our power to believe you. And so when these pictures got posted... well, people were ready to be convinced, and you pulled it off. I mean... look how good you look:

You look hot. Those pants you're wearing in the first pic are way too long (which is why I chose the cropped picture), but that aside, you're lookin' all sorts of cute.

So now you're back. You're working on some movie where you're going to tango with
this guy (who is either pretty dishy or really old looking depending on the picture and whose trivia fact is "owns a scooter"), and which I am all ready to get excited about. As I said, your hair looks awesome. You're a little orange, and in these pictures: looking a little scrawny again... but for the most part, loving it. Keep whoever did your extensions in the picture, for real. OH GOD I just googled it and apparently it was Ken Paves.

And then came this Riley guy. I don't want to be too judgemental. And I know that you write everything like you're writing a text message, too... and from your multiple letters that I must assume are written from your blackberry, I can infer, and even accept because I love you, that grammar and composition are not priorities with you, for yourself or your partner. So ok. I won't even talk about the fact that he seems like kind of a moron, and that he wears wu-tang shirts like every other day (which, I love wtc as much as the next person, but that's a little outdated and weird, and if not that then at least annoying in its lack of variety, so maybe I shouldn't be excusing it... but I am). But he's not really even cute. And you're taller than him, at least in heels, which makes you equatable with... well, anyone who's dated Tom Cruise, but not in the good "Nicole Kidman is beautiful and a great actress" kind of way, and more in the "that's so sad I wonder if Katie Holmes has been brainwashed" kind of way. And that's not where you want to be, Linds. Plus he was engaged... and... well, ok, RUMOR has it that you fucked him in a stairwell. A stairwell at rehab, Lindsay? That's not classy. I am choosing not to believe it, because I just can't. Oh... but see what you've done to me? A part of me really can believe it. Because you've done some crazy shit, and now you've gotten me all twisted over some rumor that is probably/hopefully complete fabrication. Sigh. And now I guess you may be engaged? But you totally pulled that with... oh god I can't even remember who you were dating when you did that... I guess probably Harry Morton, because it wasn't Wilmer... but anyways I think you just like to fuck with people by wearing a diamond ring around... and also, while you're clearly a little desperate for male attention, and you can't write coherently, I really don't think you're an idiot, and I definitely don't think you're dumb enough to get engaged to some dude (I was going to follow this with "who... etc etc" but I've decided to just leave him as "some dude" because in 3 weeks that's what he'll be again and we can all stop reading his ex-fiance's myspace, hmm?) Also, I guess you were drunk this weekend.

Lindsay... your existence makes me so happy sometimes, and sometimes you're just too much to take. I don't know. I'd really like for you to wash your party pants, put 'em on and get out there so that you can do more hilarious stuff that I can hear about. Maybe you should hire a driver first. Maybe you should do slightly less coke. Maybe, if you must keep doing copious amounts of coke, you should not yell and get in fights with the shady dealers in alleys. I will grant these things. But beyond that... you're hardly fooling anyone, at this point - the weird boyfriend and the obsessive tanning has insured that - so maybe you should just embrace the crazy and stop trying to hide. Because we love you.

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