Dear Jessica Simpson,

You got fat. Now before you hit that uncomfortable high C and deafen me permanently, let me tell you one thing. I'm allowed to be chubby, because I'm not a celebrity. I'm allowed to have a muffin top because I don't make money based on how I look and whether or not my tits look perfect. You do. If singers were paid on the quality of their voice rather than the sexuality and appeal of their overall image, I've got a lot of friends who should be raking in the $35 million deal that you got with Columbia records last year to record awful, shitty music that makes me question where mainstream America is headed. Only my friends would use that money to make an album a million times better and probably give away a good deal of that $35 million. They'd also take their careers and honest talents seriously enough that they wouldn't pose on the cover of Rolling Stone in high heels and panties. So when your sister Ashlee Simpson goes all boo-hoo on the media, telling them that a size two (which you know you aren't) isn't something to be ashamed of, I say "GET REAL". You got where you were because you (used to) look good in hot pants, Jessica. That's really all you had to rely on. It's not like you're a MENSA member or a PR whiz. You're not going to cure AIDS this year. And when you first met with studio execs, I highly doubt that the first thing they said was "So this the girl with the voice!" We get it - you found love in Tony Romo(whom I sincerely question to be a feeder) and made a crap country album. You want a cookie for that? Probably. So instead of sitting around and whining that Mama Media is a bitch, give her a hug for getting you where you are and jump on the treadmill. Hell, my dad even commented on this. And you wanna know how media savvy he is? Just enough to know when Everybody Loves Raymond is on.

Sincerely,

Stephie

Epic Fail

Operation Get Some Abs started today with limited success - aka FAIL - with a drive-through trip to McDonald's. I got a Double Quarter Pounder value meal and a BLT Chicken Sandwich value meal and made Teddy pick one of them when I got home. I kept stealing bites from his(the quarter pounder) and he actually ate less than I did. Damn. So I'm lying on my bed writing this, drinking my regular Coca-Cola because upon giving up diet soda, I developed an addiction to sugar. And there's no way in hell I'm going to make it to the Turbokick class in eight minutes that I wrote in my planner with hot pink gelly roll pen. From what I hear, sugar isn't so good for diets, but then again, aspartame isn't good for my brain, being a neurotoxin and all. Also, I've recently given up alcohol(for real this time) and I'm told that sugar cravings are a normal thing to expect since booze is all empty calories and full evenings of embarrassment.

So, as they say, don't let it get you down. Start anew tomorrow. Hopefully, without drive-thru (or any other kind for that matter) fast food.

Happy New Year

So I'm not sure I really have anything to write about, but it's the first day of the new year so let's get on with it and let it flow...

My resolutions are as follows:
1. Quit bartending.
2. Get healthier and stronger.
3. Stop hatin' so much on people and improve that attitude, girl.

Speaking of hatin', I'm sorry, but I CAN NOT STAND Howie Mandel. I mean, honestly, what's he been doing since Bobby's World in the 90's? I'll admit I liked that cartoon. When I was little I also loved it when he'd blow up a rubber glove over his head through his nose. But he leaves for a decade or so doing God know what, getting therapy for his germaphobia, and all of a sudden some studio exec decides to throw him a pity party and his bald head and soul patch are taking over my tv. Seriously, what's the deal with shaving your head like that besides making yourself look like a total asshole? And soul patches like that are just a begging for a punch in the face. The icing on the cake would be if he wore sunglasses indoors. The dumb reflective kind that dudes with tribal tattoos who listen to Dave Matthews wear. Honestly. I don't have cable, Howie! I've got three channels, and you've spread your ass all over one of them! I have limited options as it is, man, and you're taking away my joy. I do miss Bobby's World.



Anyway, let's hope that 2009 is a good year. 'Cause man, my 2008 sucked.