Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Oh hi...

You think you're so much better than me, don't you, Hathaway? What, with your black smoking, and your succesful career and your stupid scandal. I can see it in the way you avoid eye contact with me...the way you don't return my phone calls...the way you don't whisper sweet, sweet nothings in my ear. You don't bring my floweerrrrrrssss...anymore. But I'll have you know, you Princess Diary Prada-wearing bitch; you're on top of the world now, might even get an Oscar nod, but lest you forget, that was me a few years ago. So young, so full of promise. Add a few romantic comedies with Matthew 'What up, Bro' McConau-gay, a failed marriage and an ex-boyfriend's sucicide attempt on your head and we could be the same person. Please...let us be the same person. Oh, but look at us. Look! We're like a lesbian couple and today's our big day. Chew on this, Portia and Ellen. Promise me you won't let go...

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