An open letter to Lindsay Lohan:
Look, I’ve made my fair share of digs against you, and really it stems from love, because before you became a crotch-flashing, drug-induced mess, you were kind of my teen actress idol — the pop star who wasn’t afraid to have curves, ignore the blonde-or-brunette binary, and be overtly sexual in a way that was refreshingly different from your bubblegum nemesis, Hilary Duff. Little did I know you would never be able to contain your sexuality and fame in a way that would ever be healthy…or allow you to keep a job!
So I’m taking matters into my own hands and writing you a completely useless public letter of concern. (Hey, at least I’m not storming your house with cops.)
Remember how cool and funny you were in Mean Girls? Maybe your boobs and comedic timing will come back once you replace coke and Marilyn Monroe fantasies with food and an internship with Tina Fey.
Nostalgia aside, you’ve been dropped from The Other Side, a film that was slated as your major comeback from trainwreck territory, because you’re not “bankable,” according to a TMZ source. You’re also behind in rent and owe over $500,000 in credit card debt. Also let’s be real: your once-hailed love life kind of sucks right now too. (In your defense, that’s common with the unemployed). And of course, for every story, there is an accompanying photo of you passing out or falling down as though you’re too tired to remember that you have limbs. As bad as I feel for a fallen star, girl, this is such a familiar storyline that I thought it was old news…
This development makes me wonder if out-of-work megastars can get unemployment benefits too, because if so, you should check what Cali’s policy is. And you know, now that hipsters are eating foie gras on food stamps, it can’t really hurt to join that bandwagon either. If that’s not your thing, most career counselors I talk to really advocate using your time off to polish up your resume, rather than say, your mysteriously white-powdered heels. No matter what, Lin, my heart is always with you and your remarkably unstable hair color (even if I can’t afford your couture ripped leggings).
Love, hugs, and thoughts of rehab,
Ivy Leagued and Unemployed