CRACKLE: Dina Lohan

Dear Dina,

Where do I even begin this letter? Let's start with your new "reality" show on E! I understand that your daughter Ali wants to break into show business, but do you really think this was the proper way to start her off? Oh wait, you get most of the screen time on the show? Now it all makes sense. Your poor children have no idea that you've been pushing them towards fame since you pushed them out of your snatch, that they actually think it's their idea and you are just the supportive mom. That would be sweet if it was actually the truth, but anyone with a brain can see right through all that.

First there was Lindsay. She did her first commercial around eight years old? To call you a stage mom would probably be an understatement, but we'll just stick with that title for the time being. Now her acting career and everything that came with it isn't really what I take issue with. What I do take issue with is when she started to slide downward into booze and drugs and you were right there next to her. "Protect" is the word I think you used most often during this time, but you weren't really doing that were you? What you were doing was called participating. Boozing it up with your 16 year old and dancing on the tables alongside her with your matching skinny jeans. I don't have any hidden proof, but if I had to guess, you've probably split an eight ball or twelve with her as well. You had finally reached your dream- you were famous! people knew your name! But then little Lindsay couldn't handle her shit very well and it was off to rehab... three times. Through her car crashes and vaj slips caught on camera, you were watching your bank account get lower. All of a sudden no one wants to work with Lindsay anymore. What do you do now that your cash cow has stopped producing?

Well, you move on to the next child of course! Ali is like a clean slate. Lindsay is the bad daughter and Ali is the angel. She has learned from Lindsay's mistakes and is going to be better because of it. I do have to say that you are pretty smart by taking this route. You pawn Lindsay off on Samantha "Lezzz-be-friends" Ronson and focus your energy on your new favorite daughter. Now I'm not going to tell you to go away yet. I, like a lot of other people, are interested to see how this all plays out. If I had to guess, we should be seeing Ali posing for Playboy by the time her 18th birthday rolls around. Place your bets now people!

CRACKLE: The Hills

Dear MTV,

Are you fucking kidding me? Another season of The Hills is on it's way? Haven't you tortured us enough already? First of all let me just say that there have been a couple of times in my life where I have contemplated moving to L.A. Most recently was about six months ago when I left Seattle. Would you like to know what stopped me? Well, I imagined walking down Sunset Blvd, the sun is shining and I have sunglasses the size of Frisbees on. I'm doing a little shopping and looking for a place to have lunch. Right as I turn a corner, BAM! this bright light penetrates through my sunglasses and I notice the camera crew. Your thinking "Yea, this IS L.A." I know, but this is no ordinary camera crew. It's the crew for The Hills! Sitting at a table is Lauren Conrad, and her best friend with cerebral palsy, Audrina Patridge. I observe as the two of them sit there in silence staring at one another, then staring down at their coffee, then staring at eachother, then their coffee. Coffee, eachother, coffee, eachother. It goes on for about five minutes, all the while no one is saying anything. The director yells "CUT! Great job girls!" and you all disperse. Ummmm, what the fuck was that?

You see, for a show that is on for 30 minutes, most of the time I notice there isn't much dialog. Actually strike that. For a show with Lauren Conrad as it's main character, I notice SHE has very little dialog. She sits on camera and gives her pouty fish face and mimes her way through scenes. Then we've got your cracker jack production staff who can't even edit a scene correctly. Example: Lauren is having a staring contest, errr conversation with Audrina. When the camera looks at Lauren, her hair is disheveled and pulled back in a ponytail, then the camera looks at Audrina and as it cuts back to Lauren, her hair is suddenly down and in perfect curls. Or how about when Spencer grows a beard in a matter of five minutes? Come on MTV, I can't be the only one who picks up on this crap!

The only saving grace to the show is it's two "villans" Heidi and Spencer... and Lauren should actually be kissing their ass! If it wasn't for the two of them spreading rumors Lauren had a sex tape and essentially drawing battle lines, the show probably would have been dead in the water by season two. I just want to know if those two Einsteins came up with the feud idea on their own or if you, MTV, helped them along in the process. So while I'm not happy about you bringing this shit sandwich of a show back for another season, at least I know there will be a slight chance for entertainment in that wasted 30 minutes of my life.

I just have one request though... You started the show with only a few cast members and somehow in three seasons you grew to about the same size as the cast from Beverly Hills 90210. NO MORE NEW CAST MEMBERS PLEASE! I don't think I can take another character with no personality sucking up screen time from someone who might actually speak! Oh, one more request- give Lauren some coke or adderall. Just slip it in her coffee and I guarantee you'll have enough footage in one day for the whole fourth (and hopefully final) season.

SNAP: Paula Abdul

Dear Paula,

We both know this has been a long time coming... You are my special little gift from baby Jesus and I wanted to write you this letter so you know just how much I appreciate you. I remember being younger and thinking how cool it was that you had a dance video with a cartoon cat. I wondered how you were able to enter into a cartoon world, but I had NO IDEA that same thought would surface again almost twenty years later, only in a different context.

I don't know the actual reason why you disappeared for so long; I think it was an injury, but I'm not quite sure. Regardless, American Idol came along and thank god they asked you to be a judge. It was here that we were introduced to the new and improved, Prescription Paula! Whether Fox wants to admit it or not, I believe their ratings are so high for Idol because many of the people watching are like me- only watching to see what crazy shit you pull next.

Season one you were pretty with it... fairly lucid. I'm not a pharmacist, but If I had to guess, you were only on one prescription at that time, maybe Xanax. It wasn't until the allegations about you sleeping with a contestant that things really started to get juicy. Whether you were self medicating to numb the pain, or you just added a new prescription to the bunch, I could tell things had shifted. Now during the beginning of each show you always seem like your in touch with reality... that's proper prescription timing on the part of your handlers. Fortunately, we all know that you slide deeper and deeper into down syndrome Paula as the show goes on, which is why we keep watching.

All this is dwarfed by what you did next... A little show that both me and my tivo thank you for. That show was Hey Paula! on Bravo. It wasn't until this show that we fully realized just how much of a hot mess you can actually be. We got full insight to that time you appeared for interviews on news stations around the country whacked out of your skull, because you were "tired." Or my favorite moment of the show, when you went to have your perfume made and you were rolling around on the couch, snorting uncontrollably, and sitting on a lab technicians lap. It was a little slice of heaven served on a plate of oxycontin for me and I thank you for that, again.

What prompted this letter was a recent judging from Idol where you critiqued a contestant for two songs when he had only sang one. I'll make you a deal: You keep providing those golden moments, and I in turn will keep watching that awful show in the hopes they bring you back next season.

CRACKLE: Jackie Warner

Dear Jackie,

For the past two years I have had to deal with looking at your ugly tranny face on BRAVO for your reality show Workout. The reason I do this is because you have got some serious man meat on that show and I like to pretend they are working ME out, but that's getting off topic... and turning me on thinking about it, so lets move on shall we?

First of all you remind me of my old boss that I worked for at a salon. Just like him, you have to let every one of your employees know that you are the boss at whatever cost. You belittle and undermine your trainers in front of their clients to make yourself feel better about not being born with a penis. If you were a dog (which isn't a far stretch by the way) you would be dry humping everyone to let them know you are the dominant bitch of the pack. Why Bravo keeps you on the air is a mystery to me, but I am not your core *cough*dyke*cough* demographic, so I suppose that's why I don't get it.

Now let's get to my reason for this post... Brian Peeler was one of your trainers for the last two seasons. Sure, he could be an asshole sometimes, but he really didn't deserve half the shit you threw at him. Just because he has a huge package (did anyone see the episode of him showering in his underwear?) and your strap-on doesn't even measure up, it's not a reason to be an outright cunt to him all the time. Anyway, his friend was in town and so they decided to do a training session together. As they are working out, you and your ironically fat-ass gym manager are sitting in your office and making fun of his friends fake tits. Do you ever have those moments in your life that you replay over and over again in your head thinking "STUPID! STUPID!"? That should be one of those moments, because what you and thunder thighs didn't know was that the woman had a boob job because she had breast cancer and had to have some of her breast removed. Also, what you didn't know was that her boyfriend was outside your office and heard the whole thing.

So when Brian comes to confront you, instead of apologizing for your faux pas, you threaten to fire him if he doesn't shut up- because you are way too into yourself to admit you fucked up. Then you fired that hot piece of ass... Bad lesbian! Bad, BAD lesbian! Anyway, just like my boss at the salon, Karma has come around and bit you right in your down syndrome inflicted face. Propel water has just dropped sponsorship for your show and something tells me that they are just the first. You have lost my respect lady, not that you had much of it to begin with, but now it's all gone.

As a side note I do have to tell you... Way to reinforce the stereotype for lesbians! I nearly spit my vodka cran through my nose during the episode where you explained that four hours into your first date, you and your girlfriend decided you were in love and moved in together. Did she spend the day packing her belongings before the date? Best of luck to the two of you!

Snap: Chelsea Handler

Dear Chelsea,
I'm sitting at the computer now... It's 10:32pm and I'm anxiously awaiting your show to start at 11:30. Like a junkie at a methadone clinic, I wait... 58 minutes and counting. Your inappropriate humor and various d-list, awkward interviews have me hooked. Did you know it's an art form to be able to turn an awkward interview into a tragic hot mess of giddy laughter? You my friend, are the professor and I am your eager student.

You are by far one of the best female comics around. Second only to Kathy Griffin. While we are talking about her I do feel the need to discuss something. I was watching your show the other night when you reported that Kathy had been dumped by apple creator Steve Wozniak and you and the panel kinda took a couple jabs at her. First of all, don't bite the hand that feeds you, because if it wasn't for her and female comics like her, the road would not have been paved for female comics like you to have your own show. That, and I don't hear my phone ringing with a personal phone call from you (See SNAP: Kathy Griffin) so step off.

But aside from that I really do love you. You bring a sense of east coast honesty that makes you stand out from the usual talk show format. Monday through Friday at 11:30 I know I can depend on you to make me chuckle, and for that I am grateful. What other late night show host has a sidekick like Chewy? I don't think that little nugget can be re-created and I applaud you for adopting a little person. It's so hard for them to find homes and I hear that they are being euthanised almost as often as kittens now, so bravo to you.

Keep up the good work.

UPDATE: To the tens of readers who actually come to this site, if you haven't already, go out and buy "Are you there Vodka? it's me, Chelsea." It's Chelsea's new book of short stories about her life. I laughed so hard I pee'd myself a little. It's an easy read and I think you'll feel a lot better about your life by the time you finish it.

CRACKLE: Denise Richards

Dear Denise,
I've been seeing things lately, disturbing things. Your ads on E! for your new reality series mostly. The part that that makes me cringe is when the announcer says "Denise Richards..." then the camera zooms in close to your face and you say "It's complicated" with a weird vocal influx on the "It's"

I'm not saying I won't watch the show, but I'm an easy sell. Anytime there is a train wreck letting cameras into their life, I'm front and center at my tv.
Example: Hey Paula! on Bravo.
But it's going to be really hard watching your face for twenty something minutes (excluding commercials.) The only thing you've done of note in terms of a "career" was that lesbian kiss with Neve Campbell in Wild Things.

With that we segway in your personal life. You marry Charlie Sheen, someone who has staying power in Hollywood, but also has a hankering for hookers and coke... lots of hookers and coke. Call me crazy (I don't have any hidden proof) but I just get the sense marrying him was more calculated on your part then actual love. You pop out some kids (to up your payments, determined by your pre-nup) and then abruptly leave him only saying "He knows what he did." That's all we get?

And then... What little amount of interest I had for you was drained when you were seen shacking up with your best friends ex husband. Richie Sambora! Really? Who in their right mind would want to roll around with that in the dark? I just got a shiver as I typed that.

Now do you understand why it will be hard for me to watch your face for twenty something minutes? (excluding commercials) My mind will be drifting back to the image of Richie Sambora coming towards me, naked in the dark. That, and you have the personality of a tree stump.

Blah.

SNAP: Kathy Griffin

Dear Kathy,

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. It all began when I first saw you on Suddenly Susan. Brooke Shields was supposed to be the selling point for the show, but I tuned in for the funny red headed sidekick. From there it was on to the Bravo specials. Your stand up routines had me holding my stomach and wiping my tears of laughter at the same time. Your humor had me convinced that you gave birth to a love child long ago, and not wanting children, you handed me off to my "mother" for a chance at a normal life.

When your reality show premiered I invited my inner circle of gays (and hags) over for cocktails. Maybe other people were clueless, but I smelled that Emmy from episode one. My tivo became a mass storage device for all things Kathy Griffin. My life on the D-list, the Bravo Specials, Kathy on the View... It was all there. I became almost like Tom Cruise for Scientology... Except I was spreading the word of Kathy to all that would listen.

For the five years I lived in Seattle, I saw you three times live. The last show will remain forever fresh in my memory because my friend I took laughed so hard she hit her head on the chair in front of her in a fit of laughter. Another convert.

All this pales in comparison to what you did for me today. After missing out on meeting you (courtesy of DHL) I was left with a feeling of sadness. It wasn't the radio stations fault and DHL just shrugged me off. I decided to take matters into my own hands. Using my powers of networking, bribing and a quick hand job in a dark alley, I tracked down your assistant Jessica and wrote her an email. The angel that she is... She was able to have you call me. Not only that, but I was left with a promise of tickets next time you return to Boston. To steal a line from you "Suck it Jesus! Kathy is my god now!"

I just have to send out a GIANT thank you to Jessica. You made my year! I can't even write a funny post about this, because I'm too giddy to be funny right now. When you come back to Boston... I owe you a drink, or jewelry or I dunno- I just owe you!

Snap: Britney Spears

Dear Britney,

I am opening up my personal life to be ridiculed by friends (if anyone actually reads this blog) and show my support for you. You've entertained me in so many ways since your inception into fame. First, you had the whole bubble gum pop phase. Now, that wasn't really my favorite time for you, but just like a fine red wine, you kept getting better over time.

We watched as your clothes got skimpier, your hair got bigger and your dance moves got more sexually suggestive. This is where things reach a boiling point. You rush into a marriage in Vegas, while reportedly high on Ecstasy. Delish! Then you come down and realize what the fuck you just did, pay off the country bumpkin and annul that shit.

Enter K-Fed. I'm not trying to revel in your bad times, but as a spectator I gotta say BRAVO! First there was the reality show Chaotic. I think if you have to look back and find the one moment where everything started to backslide I would say it was when you decided to make this reality show. You showed us just how tragically delicious you actually were. You flew some guy all the way to London that you met once at a club, and paraded around the fact that you guys were banging all over the place. And so Spederline was born... along with your two kids, tater tot and small fry. One right after the other.

We then watched as your skin got flabbier, your hair got shaved off and those horrible brown boots got welded to your feet for most of 2007. Does anyone else remember those? K-fed was gone and you were barely maintaining custody of your children... You lost your kids TO K-FED! Didn't see that one coming.

Enter Sam Lufti. Crazytown USA is now in full effect. Your talking British half the time, your weave is attempted to be glued to an inch of hair on your head... Yet somewhere in your pill-induced haze you manage to record an album. I don't care what anybody thinks about this next statement: the album is so fucking tight. Granted, you owe that all to the producers and song writers, but it is totally brilliant.

Until your premature comeback at the MTV Video Music Awards. TRAGIQUE.

Time to go to the loony bin! Don't worry, your almost to rock bottom- not much further now. We finally find a scapegoat in Sam Lufti! Your craziness is all his fault because he has been drugging you and probably spending your cash. POOF! most of the negative shit over the past year seems forgiven by the public and your Daddy steps in to help you clean up the mess.

Your now working out, back in the studio, and working on getting your kids back. How you found time to do episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" is a mystery, but I think your ready for your moment back in the spotlight. Whether your dressing like a ho, having a mental breakdown, or just trying to be a mom... I've always loved you. You keep me entertained and distracted from my life for at least 10 minutes a day when I read about what crazy shit you've done now.

So thanks.

CRACKLE: DHL delivery service

So two weeks ago I was at the gay bar in Boston having a few beers and reading my book (Dress your family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris.) A guy from Mix98.5 came up to me and said they were doing a drawing for tickets to see Kathy Griffin. I gladly signed up because everyone knows I kind of worship her.

Cut to today. I'm sitting outside enjoying the sun, my coffee and a smoke when DHL pulls up to my house. The guy hands me an envelope and drives away. Hmmm, the package is addressed to me... I tear it open. "Congratulations! Your the Grad Prize Winner! Here are two front row tickets to see Kathy Griffin and two backstage passes!"

Oh em gee. I pee myself a little and start frantically running around the house looking for a phone. who should I take? maybe I'll take my mom for mothers
day! I can't believe I'm going to meet Kath... I look down at the tickets. Saturday, May 3rd.

DHL was supposed to deliver the package on Saturday, but instead it somehow got lost and didn't find its way to my house until today. TWO FUCKING DAYS LATE! I called the radio station in a gay panic, but didn't even know what to say. It's not their fault and I don't expect anything from them. I could call DHL, but the only thing that would accomplish would be for me to raise my voice while the person on the other end rolls their eyes at me.

So if everyone could please let out a collective gay sigh for me.

I just keep thinking that if I would have met her we would have had a witty banter and became instant besties... not like this creepster: