A letter I doubt I’ll be sending… to Tom Cruise.

Dear Tom.

You’re weird. You know that, right? Like – you make most people cringe so hard their skull falls into their rib cage.

I could end my letter right there because I really just wanted to join the chorus of those calling you a total nutter so Hollywood will sit up, listen and realise we don’t like seeing you on or off the screen. But there’s a part of me that wants to reach out to you Tom. It’s mostly pity. Sad pathetic pity. The kind you have for someone who just got dumped – 4 days before a monumental birthday.

So anyway today news broke that your divorce to Katie Homes was settled. You’re back on the market! That was fast!  But listen… before you go looking for the next Mrs Cruise – I need to tell you some other stuff, and in order to appeal to your ginormous ego, I’ve decided to write this letter in a way you’ll feel comfortable reading.. There are 8 facts. Just like there are 8 ‘Dynamics’ of Scientology.

Please consider this a community service and also somewhat of an intervention, where an unknown middle-aged scrag with a keyboard gives you said facts; then offers you some highly unsolicited advice which I strongly suggest you take if you don’t want to lose everything but your rank in the church.

(Disclaimer: for the purpose of this letter, putting the word “FACT” in front of a statement is the same as putting George Michael in bed with a girl in the Careless Whisper film clip)

FACT 1:

You turned 50 last week so Happy Birthday I guess. Anyway, acting roles for men in their 50’s and beyond are usually drama or comedy roles – something you’ve proven to be average at.  Roles that George Clooney, Robert De Niro, Denzel Washington, Tom Hanks, Robin Williams, Anthony Hopkins, Dustin Hoffman, Jack Nicholson, Sean Penn and Colin Firth pretty much have in the bag.  They’re all Oscar winners by the way Tom. A recognition that has eluded you throughout your 30 year career, despite your box office success in the action genre.

Don’t get me wrong. You’re not totally dried up. Any parts calling for a creepy, arrogant jerk are yours. Or Jim Carey’s.  Also – now that you’re 50, you’re a lot less likely to snag a 26 year old. The Desperate For Popularity Boost Actresses are now flocking to Johnny Depp.

MY ADVICE: Quit acting, change careers. Become an agent or something. Change your name to Jerry and remember the good old days when you used to get nominated.

FACT 2:

Everyone is calling you Mission Impossible. Because get it? That’s a movie series you’ve been in. And now they’re making it an omen for your relationships. I notice you got paid 70 million back in 1996 to play the role of Ethan Hunt. Impressive. You’re currently filming a movie called Oblivion… Right? OBLIVION! Is this an omen for your career? They’re paying you a meagre 5 mill Tom. What happened? Even Vanilla Skye; possibly the worst film ever made for Hollywood paid you 20 million. Has it occurred to you and your people that you are no longer bankable, a fact that has nothing to do with your age and everything to do with your freaky psychotic ramblings?

MY ADVICE: SHUT UP!

FACT3:

Apparently you’re fairly high up in terms of rank within the Scientology religion. That’s fine. I don’t know where John Travolta or Will Smith sit within the ranks, but why are they seemingly more balanced than you? Given this, I find it irresponsible to blame your religious beliefs for your weirdness. It’s your OBSESSION with your beliefs, combined with your urge to CONTROL all those around you to partake in the tutti fruit that is scientology.  Obsessions are ok I guess… John Travolta is obsessed with planes. Will Smith is obsessed with making his children more famous than him. I’m obsessed with nice handbags and writing letters to people who will never read them. Whatever. The point is Tom… your obsessions are made up words. Xenu? Weird mate.

MY ADVICE:  Get a hobby that doesn’t include discussing time travel, aliens that exist in human bodies and ANYTHING that blows your mind.

FACT 4 :

In the last week, the media have pointed out something freakier than your front teeth before you had major dental reconstruction.  And that is this: ALL YOUR WIVES GOT DIVORCED AT AGE 33.  Well known celebrity examiner Perez Hilton delved into some numerology which Scientology is apparently in to. Whatever!  Something about the flight of the phoenix and being free. The point is, regardless of who is filing for divorce, women who marry you realise at age 33 that they’re miserable and want a successful career. And BOY do they succeed. Cher – Oscar winner. Nicole Kidman – Oscar winner. Penelope Cruz – Oscar winner. Mimi Rogers won nothing from the academy because she won the Worst Decision Ever Award for introducing Scientology to their future leader.

What you should know is that even if you get married again, I doubt this kooky phenomenon will happen again because of Fact 1. You’re too high maintenance now. Your stocks have plummeted and the only person young and silly enough to recreate the phenomenon is Lindsay Lohan.

MY ADVICE: Find someone older than you. I think Jodie Foster is available. You guys have LOADS in common.

FACT 5:

Some people are saying you’re the next star to be cursed after filming Rock of Ages. Ie. Katie Holmes filing for divorce with you, Russel Brandt split with Katy Perry, Mary J Blige’s charity went broke, Alec Baldwin got a stalker…. I truly believe this film IS cursed. They filmed you writhing around on stage with no shirt on. OF COURSE it’s cursed.

Shut up, that IS a fact.

MY ADVICE: None sorry. It’s too late now. They should have cast someone else.

FACT 6:

Dawson’s Creek: The Reunion movie would be filming now if you didn’t forbid Katie from taking part. For this alone, millions are mad at you.

MY ADVICE: You need to personally fund all production fees associated with this project, and speak to whoever you have to ensure this gets off the ground. Will Joey run back to Dawson’s tender dorky arms, or will she remain helplessly in love under Pacey’s charming spell? These are questions we want answered Tom. SOON.

FACT 7:

Secrets! I think you have a few. Like why’d you divorce Nicole? Did she cheat? Did you?  What’s in the pre-nup with you and Katie? What don’t you want us to know that might come out if you fought for custody? Why has this divorce been over so quickly? Why did she even divorce you? Was she afraid?  IS it true you scared the hell out of Penelope? How come Katie gets primary custody of YOUR child? You ARE Tom Cruise!!

Honestly Tom! You’ll happily tell a journo to put his manners back in or discuss KSW, LRH, orgs and fighting the good fight…….but you won’t tell us the name of your boyfriend.

MY ADVICE: Nobody cares Tom.  Open the closet door already.

FACT 8:

I feel it’s important to tell you something that is IN FACT a fact. You used to be hot. Like even now you’re not THAT ugly. But creepy and hot are non-cohesive traits. I remember going to the movie cinema as a 13 year old girl with my friend, and lining up for what seemed like 45 minutes because it actually was 45 minutes – to watch Top Gun. My friend Megan was 14 and we were there for one reason. YOU!!

Not Val Kilmer. Not the aeroplanes. Not even all those men in uniform. It was all for you. I remember watching you (Maverick) leaning over the sink in your Y-fronts and clenching your jaw tightly after Goose died, anguished over his death and the parallels to the premature death of your own father.  It was a special moment. Not just in the movie’s story line, but also in MY story line. Seeing your jaw ripple? Something happened. I knew I was becoming a woman.

MY ADVICE:  None. You’re not that man anymore. Sorry about that. Your fault though.

Regards

Cyclone Cindy

PS. You’ve completely ruined the whole sliding-into-a-room-in-your-socks-and-underwear-while-singing-into-a-brush thing for all of us.

PPS. I have this idea for an adventure movie based around a geriatric archaeologist called Emphysema Jones, who discovers treasures. Eventually. Interested?

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Charlie Sheen: a second letter I doubt I’ll be sending

Dear Charlie
(or should I be addressing  you as The Vatican Assassin??)

I already wrote to you back in April last year, and much of what I said then still applies, however now that you’ve awoken the sleeping giant of CRAZY, I have an overwhelming urge to tell you how we – the public are interpreting your incoherent ramblings. (Tom Cruise makes sense compared to you). But let me start by offering some well known, well researched advice…. Three words Chuck.

DRUGS ARE BAD.

Now that I think about it, most of the letters I write that ‘I doubt I’ll be sending,’ are admonishing celebrities such as you to LAY OFF THE SUBSTANCE ABUSE. You are SO NOT rock and roll. You are so NOT Hugh Heffner. You are so NOT a warlock and you DON’T have tiger blood.    Please close your mouth now.

You are a train wreck. Have been for a while. Except that while before your engine was partly damaged, your exterior was looking a bit worse for wear, and your electrical circuits were faulty… you somehow managed to stay on the track. But dude. You’ve rammed the train into an enormous ditch somewhere in bushland and there’s little chance of recovering any spare parts.

To make it clearer to you, here are some of your words of late with ABC News’ Andrea Canning in Los Angeles, followed by our interpretation of those words.

“I’m super-bitchin’and I don’t believe myself to be an addict.”
You’re a total addict. You’re in denial.

“[The drug I’m on is] called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available because if you try it once you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body.”
A million women; predominantly hookers, have both sampled and had in large doses some of ‘Charlie Sheen’ and I believe that although they may have no dignity, they still have their face.

“I’m underpaid right now. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not special. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not bitchin’, a total … rock star from Mars.”
Yes. You are EXTREMELY special. Not many people can boast that they got completely mocked by the hosts of both the Golden Globes AND the Oscars. Not many actors (except maybe the aforementioned Cruise) can dominate this much media interest from one interview. And yes. Although your father Martin is very much an earthling, and despite the cliché “Men are from Mars” you clearly have immortal powers because how else have you escaped prison?? Rock star? Find a guitar and start strumming because I’ve only ever seen you play piano.

“I’m sorry, man, but I’ve got magic. I’ve got poetry in my fingertips. Most of the time—and this includes naps—I’m an F-18, bro. And I will destroy you in the air. I will deploy my ordinance to the ground.”
You’re sorry? Don’t apologise Charlie. Obviously you’ve been watching Platoon again. Haven’t you? Remember it was a CHARACTER. Just a character.  You were ACTING. It’s not REAL LIFE. Got it?

“There’s a new sheriff in town. And he has an army of assassins.”
There’s a new train wreck in Hollywood. And he has delusions of grandeur.

Guys, it’s right there in the thing, duh! We work for the Pope, we murder people. We’re Vatican assassins. How complicated can it be? What they’re not ready for is guys like you and I and Nails and all the other gnarly gnarlingtons in my life, that we are high priests, Vatican assassin warlocks. Boom. Print that, people. See where that goes.” 
Put the crack pipe down and step away from the whiskey.

In response to your  father’s suggestion that you need AA because addiction is a form of cancer:

“My conduct is bitchin’, my condition is perfect. OK, Pop — walk through a cancer ward right now and find any of those motherf***ers who look like me.”
You like that word bitchin’ a lot huh? Here’s a photo of you where you look pretty damn sick to me.

Explaining your new tattoo which says “Death From Above” across your chest, the slogan from your father’s film Apocalypse Now:

“It’s the banner from the death card that Kilgore [the Robert Duvall character] is throwing on his victims. But also falling from it is the apple from [poet Shel Silverstein‘s] ‘The Giving Tree.’ There’s my life. Deal with it. I’m not just my dad. I’m putting up the river to kill another part of me, which is Kurtz. I’m every character in between, save for that little weirdo with his guts strapped in, begging for water. That’s not me. But there are parts of me that are Dennis Hopper. ‘You have the right to kill me, but you do not have the right to judge me.’ Boom. That’s the whole movie. That’s life.”
The tattoo parlour should not be administering pain relief to customers who have been ‘banging seven gram rocks’ before arriving.

“Sean Penn was over at my house the other night and we had a few laughs.”
Sean Penn was over at your house the other night and you had a few lines.

On alcoholics anonymous:

It’s the work of sissies. The only thing I’m addicted to is winning. This bootleg cult, arrogantly referred to as Alcoholics Anonymous, reports a 5 percent success rate. My success rate is 100 percent. Do the math … another one of their mottoes is ‘Don’t be special, be one of us.’ Newsflash: I am special, and I will never be one of you! I have a disease? Bulls**t! I cured it with my brain, with my mind. I cured it, I’m done … you don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun. I’m gonna hang out with these two smoking hotties and fly privately around the world. It might be lonely up here but I sure like the view.
Newsflash: You have a disease. You’ve tried curing it with your brain, but because your brain is mostly in the end of your penis, your self-imposed treatment has failed. In reference to the ‘two smoking hotties…’ No Charlie. Denise Richards was a smoking hottie. Brooke Mueller was up there. Those two bimbozettes were being toilet trained when you were sampling Heidi Fleiss’s finest. They are NOT hot. One of them is barely what I would call ‘attractive’ but hey, beauty is in the eye of the man beholding his crack goggles. They are gold digging naïve young skanks who are being flown privately around the world, who LOVE LOVE LOVE your money, and don’t mind opening up their legs to get their hands on some of yours.

There. Translation complete. For now. 

I can’t stress to you enough the importance of being sobre at this point. Oh… And silent.

I know you very recently opened a ‘twitter’ account.  Shut that thing down right now. Before you get any more bats**t crazy. Like what the hell is this picture about? And why did you put the caption “Winner 2012?” You’re being ironic right? 
 

It may be too late. I said to you before that we all love a bad boy with a high libido. But at no time did anybody say that they love a drug-infested porn-star junkie who has been watching too many sci-fi/war films.

Warlock? For real?  
Just stop. Thanks mate.

Regards,
Cindy

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending… To my beloved George Michael.

Beautiful George

As you find yourself behind bars, I find myself craving chocolate ones. Meanwhile you are possibly wishing you could be in one; dancing under the influence of ecstasy while embracing a Zac Effron look-alike under a strobe.  Ahhh, good times… But you know what I’ve discovered?  Life, relationships, illegal activities and tampons are all the same. There’s ALWAYS strings attached.

In all the years you’ve been part of my life (about two thirds of it now), I never thought the time would come that I would be sending you a letter to say something other than “I love you, and yes. You can have my sex.”

However G, it’s time.  I only write these letters (the ones I don’t send) to those who I feel need some guidance or advice from one who is removed and has nothing to gain. I’m just an ageing fan of an ageing pop star here to tell you how I see it.

So today I read you were denied bail. Denied bail? Not even Paris “I thought it was gum” Hilton was denied bail. And Tuesday night you were sentenced to serve four weeks in prison and spend the remaining 4 weeks on licence, (whatever that means…)

Here you are arriving at court...

You were also banned from driving for five years, fined £1,250 and ordered to pay £100 in costs. All because after smashing into a shop front window, you were found slumped over the steering wheel of your Range Rover (exceptional choice of vehicle by the way) whilst high on cannabis.

Just goes to show that high isn’t really the correct term because last time I was slumped over anything I most certainly was not feeling high.

Anyway drugs. They’re bad. They might make you feel good temporarily… fleeting moments of calm and happiness or excitement and fulfilment. But as you know it’s not permanent.  A criminal record is. Not that big a deal when you’re rich and famous I suppose….

 “Give a WHAM, give a BAM, but don’t give a DAMN!” Great lyrics to dance to, but you seem to have taken it on board as your personal daily mantra.

It’s apparent that you’re not learning anything from your mistakes. Strings, George, STRINGS! There’s always a consequence.

So this jail time is for hitting a shop front back in July this year.  But in August 2009 you smashed into truck pretty bad and were apparently ‘out of it.’ This happened right after you got your license legally reinstated, after having driven under the influence back in 2007.

Look it’s hard for me to tell you anything that doesn’t include praise or admiration. Back in 1988 when I was 14, you changed my life.

With fluke tickets to your FAITH tour and a ‘well beyond my years’ sense of maturity and sexuality… by the third song into your show, you’d told me you wanted my sex. You looked right at me and I know you meant it.

It didn’t matter that Marcus Eley: the new boy in tenth grade from New Zealand who joined the school basketball team, and was in my opinion; hotter than the bonnet of a Ferrari after completing a formula one…. wouldn’t look at me other than to tell me I was a hairy mammoth. Because what did he know?

Was HE famous? Was HE a pop star? Puh! I didn’t need him to want me because I knew deep down that you did. That moment at your concert, you gave me a superiority complex sense of confidence that carried me right through to womanhood.

I owe you George. So telling you this is not easy for me. But I have to say it. There are 3 kinds of ‘hits’ and you need to know the difference.

  1. Hit as in smash.  Example: My car hit the window but I have no recollection…”
  2. Hit as in toke, pill or injection… with reference to using drugs. Example: “I just need one more hit and I’ll be fine.”
  3. Hit as in number one song or record. Example: George Michael has another hit record with his 5th song on the album going to number 1.”

LESS of numbers 1 and 2. MORE of number 3. Maybe even consider rehab. You’re getting predictable and boring and stupid and old and even slightly (don’t hate me) chubbs…. But I blame the munchies for that.

Your career is basically at the cleaners. You’re not totally washed up yet, but the soaps out and ready. You can’t exactly tour again without new stuff, but you have nothing new that’s any good. Was anyone but Perez Hilton and me even aware that you released a song last Christmas? Not the actual song, “Last Christmas.” I mean the song you wrote in December last year called “I Dreamed of Christmas.” 

Your songs may get played at weddings and in gay clubs and at my house and in my car and in my head, and even at some popular venues on retro night, but it’s time for something new.

New music. The New George. Never to be arrested for drugs again. The George who knows all about strings.

Speaking of strings, and soap…. And getting arrested…

You might want to consider soap on a rope for the remaining weeks in prison. You and public bathrooms don’t have a great track record, and know what they say about dropping the soap….

So take care, and remember that you do have fans. We still love you but are concerned for your future.  And we’re waiting George…. Waiting for your next real hit.

Much love
Cindy

xoxo
PS. Yes. Still can.

A (second) letter I doubt I’ll be sending… to Ben Cousins.

Dear Ben.

Wow, you’re ears must have been burning BADLY for the last few days. Not only did the documentary of your drug problem and recovery BLITZ the ratings, you also became quite the hot topic on many radio and TV talk shows.

But I’m fairly certain you’re at one with your hotness by now. You should be.  I am. I made it quite apparent in my last letter to you, but HOLY SHINOODLE! It’s actually ridiculous how much of a spunk you really are.

Ridiculous because by all accounts, the footage we saw of you during your using, withdrawl and recovery stages should have looked more like someone who was abusing and destroying their body, but somehow you managed to maintain your physique and good looks and that’s just not fair to the all the other druggies who look like… ahh, druggies.

That’s why everyone calls you a rocks star. But even that’s not accurate. Have you ever seen Ozzy Osbourne?  Or Keith Richards? The effects of years of drug abuse is evident in every crevice of their weathered face and every word they speak.

Perhaps they should quit calling you a rock star and start calling you a freak. Because you seem to be impervious to the effects of soul destroying, physically damaging and emotionally crippling drug abuse.

Truthfully Ben, I found your doco compelling. Of course I would, I’m a West Coast Eagles fan and took interest in your demise and the effects it had on a team I love. But more than that – I was interested to understand how the drugs affected you beyond what we saw and read in the media.

While I don’t agree with the many criticisms of your brave departure from your addictions, I did find myself wondering, WHERE’S THE REST? Perhaps you kept some parts of your withdrawl and recovery private?  I think your father and sister expressed how bad it was, and how scared they were, and how much of a fight it was better than you did.

And look that’s fine, you’re a public figure – have been for years and you’ve probably found survival by keeping your cards close to your chest. You’ve shared your story with us, but I think much of the criticisim is coming to you because you failed to show us the WHOLE story as Sports writer Jesse Hogan so eloquently pointed out in yesterday’s Sydney Morning Herald.  There were no signs of the heartache and physical pain that comes from ridding your body of the poisons you’ve been feeding it. There was no footage of you suffering in the way that most drug addicts suffer when they’re detoxing.

Instead we saw you riding waves, hopping on planes, training in some nice tight pants, and then publicly apologising – which was evidently filmed on your way to a Star Wars dress up party.  I realise that was all important in the process of your recovery, and I know you must have suffered hugely when you were kicked out of the AFL and rejected from various clubs.  But what about the REAL suffering that was separate to your career. Only your father and sister expressed it.

I was interested when the family friend who took you surfing said, “Ben has no peace inside, he should spend time finding that peace not pursing football. Practice meditation , get in touch with what your running from and accept life is not a one way ego trip. He should do more for others and find a deeper sense of personal respect. The drugs then don’t matter so much.”

And another commenter who said, “Ben has been taking his whole life and he has never had to give.”

Der! Hello? What did I tell you in my last letter?

Whilst filming a doco is beneficial in that it opens up opportunities to discuss drug abuse within families, it doesn’t really take you out of yourself and your own problems. In fact it focuses on them further.

Dude. It’s time to do some charity work. It’s time to give. You are SO lucky to have an amazing and supportive family, and also friends and mentors who have been completely and 100% on your side during your recovery. THEY have been giving of themselves to help you.

I know you’re not fully recovered and retiring this weekend from a game that has consumed over half your life will be hard. I’m not suggesting that it’s time to forget your own struggles, particularly at this difficult time of transition. But perhaps you’re underestimating the benefits that helping others will bring to your life.

Last night while watching part 2 of the documentary, our dinner guests made a prediction that you would be dead in five years. I was appalled. What a terrible thing to suggest and predict for another human’s life.  But their reasoning was fair. You don’t seem to be totally rid of the demons. Laughing about it as you did at times (while possibly a nervous thing) gave the impression that you thought it was funny. And without the regimes of footy, what will keep the demons away?

So I do worry for you – genuinely. Not only because I like you and think you are oh so terribly handsome. But I worry because I’m pretty sure I know who you’re infamous dodgy friends are that some referred to on the doco. I recognise how easy it must’ve been to be seduced into their world when at such a young age – you weren’t forced to go through what most young people do. And that is working out who you are, what you believe in, what you truly want for life outside of a successful career.

You were probably told by every person from a young age that you were a champion and a brilliant footy player. Highly skilled and a force to be reckoned with on the field. All true. But that’s not enough to live by is it?

                              

As you said, you had no inner peace. Adualation from the world doesn’t give your life meaning.

I’m sure your life – particularly now – is filled with meaning. But I think the purpose and quiet accomplishments that comes from helping others will make you more of a champion and make YOU feel like you are more important than any Brownlow medal or Premiership season.

Just saying….

So that’s all from me, possibly forever. I can’t think of any reason why I might need to write to you a third time. I’ll be watching your final game on Sunday against Port Adelaide. PLEASE annihilate them in the same manner you did so to yourself on drugs.

And thank you for all the magnificent games you’ve given me to watch. Your supporters, your team mates and your competitors will miss you out there. You are a truly a star and I hope you can keep on shining. With or without your shirt on. Either way it’s pretty.

All the best,
Cindy

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending… to Brad Pitt

Dear Brad

I’ve been meaning to write this letter to you for a few weeks now, and had almost decided not to worry about it, but then I saw the below photo of you and really felt it was something I needed to do on behalf of women all over the world.

What I’m trying to say is…. Thank you.

Thank you so, so much for finally locating your razor blade, obviously misplaced somewhere in the depths of your bathroom cabinet.  And thank you for using it on your face.

I don’t think I’m alone in suggesting that you were starting to lose your looks, if that’s even possible for someone as genetically blessed as you. But these pictures of you taken last week have proven that Brad Pitt: Sexiest Man Alive, never really left us.

Now that that ugly little patch of pubic nothingness has been eradicated form your chiselled jaw-line, I’d be interested to know – WHAT were you thinking?  Not that you’re unfamiliar with facial hair. You’ve had your bearded moments in the past…

Also,  I realise you’re a busy guy. A successful film career, the founder of numerous do-gooder projects and six kids; with apparently another on the way through adoption. I have just one daughter, and sometimes I struggle to find the time to remove all my unwanted body hair.  But Brad, I loathe every moment that those little hairy knees of mine look up at me, and that’s why about 4-6 weeks of it is all I can take.  But you!!! You let that sloppy little dishevelled chin mess grow for at least 6 months. You were starting to look like the guy that lingers outside the shopping mall who hasn’t washed his pants in months and begs for cigarettes from strangers.

I have noticed over the years that you like to replicate the hairstyle or hair colour of your current lady friend. It started early on with Juliette Lewis and has continued right up to your current relationship with Angelina Skank-face Jolie.

If you don’t believe me, look at these pictures below.

  

 

                          

You know what, looking back at images from the SALT premiere last week, I have a tiny inkling that you and Ange have been to the skin doctor.  Looking very refreshed – the both of you. And again – matching hair colour.

Look hate me, but I’m going to say it… You belong with Jen. The best you ever looked was in Troy. Okay and maybe in Ocean’s Eleven. ELEVEN! Not 12 or 13. You know… the’ Jen years.’

       

Anyway, I won’t harp on about that. I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty from your mum. And besides, you well and truly declared your life-long love for her over the weekend.

Well that’s about all I wanted to say. Thanks. Truly, thank you.

May the paparazzi continue to hunt you down like a beast and capture your image for the world’s women and gay men to gaze upon fondly.

Yours shaven and 100% hair free.
Cindy
xo

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending… To Ben Cousins


Dear Ben

First of all, I’m sending you wishes of a speedy recovery in the hope that you return to full health. I’m sure I’m not alone in wanting to see you back on field soon and was relieved to hear this morning that you’re out of Intensive Care.

As a fellow sandgroper who like you – grew up in the southern suburbs of Perth but have moved interstate to fulfil lifelong dreams avoid unemployment, I wanted to tell you what we – you’re supporters, are thinking… besides for you to get well.

Truthfully, if I had written to you ten years ago, the letter would have gone something like this:

Dear Ben,
You’re hot. Marry me.
Oceans of Love, Cindy

If I had written 5 years ago, it may have gone more along the lines of:

Dear Ben.
You’re a legend, an absolute bloody champion!  You may have noticed the enclosed 76 West Coast Eagles Guernseys. These are for all my foster children in Africa and I would LOVE it if you could sign the FRONT of all of them, so I can pass them on.  That would be great. DON’T WORRY about telling your management, just remember it’s 100% legit and for a good cause. The orphans thank you and will be chanting your name in harmonious celebration and ceremony.
Love your work. Cinders.

I’m only kidding Ben. I would NEVER be able to afford 76 foster children. It would be more like 30.

But footy seasons come and footy seasons go, and before you know it, life resembles nothing of the past. Things have changed. Like… you’re not an Eagle anymore. You’re a Tiger. A very flexible one by the look of it too.

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but this year is NOT year of the Tiger.  Not in China, not in golf, and not in footy either.

Look don’t get me wrong, I STILL think you’re a champion, but HELL I DO NOT want to marry you.

And those Guernseys? I’d be a bit reluctant to sell those on eBay now. Not only because of the eBay police. But because…. Well you know.

I remember like it was yesterday the enormity of your very public demise. I felt sad for everything. Sad for the Eagles, sad for your gorgeous family, (who I have met… I organised your mother’s 50th and your brother’s 21st), and sad for you.  Well I felt sad for you, until I saw you get arrested with your shirt off.

Mmmm.. That day – women Australia wide stopped being sad for you because how can you feel sad for someone who is totally FRYING YOUR BURGER!

                 

I’ll say this. Being a champion sure does suit you… But so does being a bad boy. You must know this. I mean, secretly you love it right? Being one of AFL’s bad boys? Because you’re not doing anything to lose the image.

Not that I would put you in the ranks of someone like Fervola. He might get called ‘bad,’ but he’s not. He’s just a damn good footy player with no social etiquette and about as appealing to women as a feral wild pig. And Barry Hall? He’s considered bad but he’s not.  He’s just stupid. A brainless chunk of macho carcass with a head more suited to ten pin bowling. Not the sport, the ball.

You are a ‘bad boy’ because nothing you’ve done is that unusual for a highly successful bloke you’re age. You’re extraordinarily talented, particularly good natured and very well spoken and well mannered. Plus you’re a hot spunk. But you’re mischievous.

              

So why can’t you shake the bad boy image?

Why is everyone presuming that this last trip to hospital was a result of more deceptive and illegal behaviour?  “Suuuure it was a reaction to a prescription pill…” I’ve heard.

“Suuuure he just happened to shave off all his hair right before a drug test….” Was another one doing the rounds.

Can giving a camera the middle finger be that damaging to a reputation? I think moving to Melbourne was the start of shaking the rumours and negative image. Any underworld figures who lured you into their schemes and deals, any cohorts who participated in drug binges, any journalists who had it in for you… well they’re not so close now, and taking a side step into your old ways – even just for a weekend, is not so easy when it’s far away.

But Ben I think there’s more work to be done. Every time there’s a story on you, the drugs come up. An act for which you have self-confessed but do not even hold an offence for.  In fact the ONLY offence you have against your name is a traffic offence for an unsafe U-turn. Like who’s never done that before?

But they add the car accident to their list of “Why Ben is a Bad Boy.”

“Oh he must have been driving under the influence of drugs.”

See what I mean? You have not shaken your past, despite doing your toxology tests, and coming through all clear… But I am going to tell you how you can.

Following your traffic offence, you were ordered to participate in community service and donate to charity. I think you’ve done that, by playing for Richmond.

However, I think you should do more!

Currently you do not support or back a charity. You should. (If you do, then why don’t we know?) 

Get involved in your community and give of your money and time to those who will never have the opportunities you have had. Children who are forced to take drugs to survive.

There are DOZENS of celebrities who’ve been busted for drugs. Unfortunately we are much more hesitant to give our sporting celebs a second chance. But I think if Mickey Rourke can get nominated for a an Oscar, you should at least be in the running for another Brownlow before your footy career is over. But you guys who play footy are meant to be role models and heroes. So stop being a ‘fallen’ hero, and go be a fully upright one!

You’ve had a hero moment, when you won the Brownlow. How did it feel? You must’ve felt such a sense of accomplishment and worth. And then again when you won the Grand Final.

Did you know you can feel like that any time, by helping to support and encourage young kids? Or sick kids? Or sick adults? Or drug addicted teens?

 I understand you’re probably a really busy guy. I know you have to commit a lot of time and physical energy to your sport, passion and career. But I think when the media and community at large see you giving of yourself and serving others, the rewards will outweigh the cost to you.

I should mention in closing that in some ways you are already providing a great service to parts of the community by keeping fit, and doing photo spreads in GQ magazine.  Because I’m not alone is saying you really do sizzle my schnitzel, smoke my camembert, and char grill my chicken.

Yep. Meats and cheeses – you are rocking my deli baby!

I realise you have a lot to get through in the next week or so, concentrating on recovery and fitness, so I’ll understand if I don’t hear from you right away.  But please give me a buzz before the off season, preferably before Mad Monday. (Let’s face it; you’re not winning any premierships this year…) 

Oh well, SUCH IS LIFE hey Ben… there’s always next year.

Chat soon.
Yours ever so admiringly
Cindy

A letter I Doubt I’ll be Sending…. To Kristen Stewart

Dear Kristen

Given that you are apparently a sensitive little soul, I would like to make one thing clear before you read any further…. By writing this letter, my intention is not to make you feel like you want to throw up – nor is it to make you feel as though you’re being raped.   I just thought I should clarify that after you said in Elle Magazine:

“All you see is an actor or a celebrity lit up but a flash. It’s so… The photos are so… I feel like I’m being raped. A lot of the time I can’t handle it. You want to be excited about something, normal people can be excited about their lives, and I am, too, but it’s such a different thing. It comes out as entertainment for other people and that makes me want to throw up.”

So we get that you don’t like attention, you don’t like the idea that your life is entertainment, you don’t really enjoy interviews, and you HATE having your photo taken.

In fact, you loathe having anyone take pictures of you so much that this is the charming and exemplary kind of behaviour you resort to:

 

You know, the more I hear from your smart little mouth, the more I want to smack you across the face and tell you to grow up.  I’m actually so bored reading or watching any interviews, I can feel my brain melting out of my ears, because it’s always the same tedious remarks…..

 “I didn’t ask for this.  I can’t handle it. It’s f**ked. I never expected that this would be my life.”

Are you stupid?  You actually mean to tell me that you signed on to be the lead female role in a 4-part movie saga adapted from novels by a best-selling author, and you didn’t expect to be in the spotlight? 

What made you want to be an actor? Because I think you should stick to small time theatre and TV commercials in Japan. Or start looking into other career option toot sweet. How do you feel about testing flavours of lip gloss? You’d be good at that. I’ve never seen an actress bite on her lower lip as much as you do. My guess is that you’ve already swallowed a lot of lipstick, so how hard could it be?

Probably won’t get the same pay though. Might not get to travel the world. Probably won’t be able to afford the house you currently live in or the car you currently drive. Might not get hunky co-stars to make out with either. Definitely won’t get hunky co-stars as boyfriends. Won’t get to have clothes hair and makeup provided free of charge for events. (I’m starting to see now how your life is so difficult).

And you absolutely will NOT get to explore your creativity by acting out a desperate pathetic girl who would rather give up her family and her education, and in fact die than be without a boy.

A girl who exclaims she is nothing without love. A girl who willingly accepts acts of domestic violence because of love. A girl who is really very smart but doesn’t want to be anything other than someone else’s possession…. 

Oh wait, that’s not your fault. Sorry, I forgot I was writing to you and not Stephenie Meyer.

Look Kristen, whatever inspired your career; it most certainly was NOT from looking up to and aspiring to be like multiple award winning actresses.

Women like Vivien Leigh, Ingrid Bergman, Hillary Swanke, Shirley MacLaine, Charlize Theron, Julia Roberts, Jane Fonda, Bette Davis, Susan Sarandon, Emma Thompson, Elisabeth Taylor…

These women understand what it means to be gracious, courteous, polite, accommodating and engaging. Nobody expects to be bowled over by your charm and friendliness (although there are plenty of actresses that have had that affect)…

But we also don’t expect somebody who wants us to support a film they’ve just made; to be rude, disdainful, surly and inattentive.

You know what? We don’t even expect you to smile all the time. You’re only human; you’re bound to have bad days too. But I get the impression you try NOT to smile sometimes.

I’ve heard you’ve told some interviewers that this is YOUR JOB. It’s JUST your job and does not warrant the attention you get. 

NEWSFLASH !!!

Position: Lead actress in Twilight Series
Duties: Read memorise and recite script, follow directions from Film Director, Act.
Requirements: Actresses are required to be punctual, well groomed and cooperative on set. There may also be times that require the actress to cry, look sad, look confused, look angry, look scared and make high pitched grunting and tutting sounds.  (No wonder you got the part!!!)
RESPONSIBILITIES:  PROMOTE FILM – including attending Film Premiere’s, Magazine Interviews, Photo Shoots, attending Award Nights,  carrying out all publicity as per contracted, much of which will require overseas travel.

So uh… exactly what job did you think you had successfully landed? Your JOB IS GETTING ATTENTION. Take away that attention, Kristen, and do you know what you’re left with?

People who don’t want to see you in movies. Which leads to poor takings at the box office. Which leads to less movie offers. Which leads to ‘Kristen Who?’

Which is what you want right?

I think you need to ask yourself how a rape victim might feel about your comments. Those who are traumatised and anguished – sometimes for their whole lives, as a result of actions they HAD NO CHOICE OVER.

You have a choice. If you are that disturbed by the attention you’re getting, you need to get off the fast track to The Land of Hollywood Success, and get on the one way express train to Mount Nobody’s Land.

Finally, you are currently on tour with Taylor Lautner. It would please me greatly to be in the same room as him, let alone pose on the red carpet with him.

Kristen. Kristen. Are you hearing me?

The wolf boy is hot-diggety-dog-doo-wup-wup-chk-chicka-chicka!!!  The least you could do is be happy with that! Because he is the only reason I go to see your stupid movies.  

Now go put a bra on, brush your hair, and close your mouth.

Ungratefully and indifferently yours,
Cindy.

_______________________________________________________________________

UPDATE: Following this statement from The Rape and Incest National Network: “Stewart’s comments are regrettable. Portraying a rape survivor in the film ‘Speak’ should have led her to use a more appropriate metaphor to describe the intrusive nature of the paparazzi. Rape is more than an intrusion, it’s a violent crime, that causes serious long term mental health effects for victims.”

Krtisten apologised with this: “I really made an enormous mistake – clearly and obviously. And I’m really sorry about my choice of words. I’ve made stupid remarks before, and I’ve always reasoned: ‘Whatever. They can think what they want.’ ‘Violated’ definitely would have been a better way of expressing the thought. People thinking that I’m insensitive about this subject rips my guts out. I made a big mistake.”

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending… to Kevin Rudd, PM

Dear Prime Minister

On the eve of your new budget, I thought I’d write to tell you some of my opinions, because everyone is entitled to my opinion – even you! 

First of all I should probably make one thing clear straight up. I didn’t vote for you because I heard you picked wax out of your ear and ate it. Sorry, but that was kind of a deal breaker for me.

To be honest Mr Rudd, the first time I had to vote, and was unsure who to vote for because I didn’t understand the policy, I referred to the dictionary, and this is what I read:

LABOUR

  1. to burden or tire
  2. the physical effort and periodic uterine contractions of childbirth.
  3. to act, behave, or function at a disadvantage

LIBERAL

  1. favoring or permitting freedom of action
  2. open minded or tolerant
  3. progressive, broad minded, charitable, unprejudiced

Actually, your ‘KEVIN 07’ campaign didn’t really give me much indication of what type of PM you’d be. Other than the fact that perhaps there’s be times when you like to rhyme.  Your campaign mantras included cliché phrases like:

  • The reckless spending must stop.
  • The Buck stops with me.
  • The best choice for working families.
  • Creating an education revolution.
  • Addressing the biggest challenge of our time… Climate Change.

I find empty words like that harder to swallow than fermented fish guts soup. So I voted for Howard, which was essentially a vote for Peter Costello.

That day we had to vote was a shambles, and I should have realised then; that if this is what DAY 1 of ‘Kevin Rudd as PM’ was going to be like, hold on to your stock portfolios because you ‘aint seen nothin’ yet.

I left my phone in the voting booth, and by the time I’d realised, and returned to collect it, the booth ceased to exist. Those volunteers at the voting stations were eager to get out.  So given that I was to be meeting friends for dinner that night at a Tepanyaki restaurant, of which I knew neither its name nor exact location…. I wandered the streets of Sydney searching for Tepanyaki where my friends were. I found them eventually – only to get raw egg thrown down the front of my brand new jeans.

Eggs are precious, and not supposed to be thrown at someone’s unsuspecting bowl. I’m telling you this because it’s a metaphor which I will explain soon.

So anyway, leading up to your election, I had only the above information, and the following understanding of what KEVIN stood for….

K – Kind of feminine looking.
E – Ever been to a strip club?
V – Very good at clichés and rhyming.
I – I eat ear wax!
N – Nasally, Nerdy and Not very old.

In the last 3 years I have learnt much more about you, and I hope you sacked your campaign advisors and speech writers because here is what they didn’t tell us. 

The reckless spending must stopreally meant: The reckless spending by the liberal government on tax cuts must stop. YOU will take a 20 billion dollar surplus and create a $50 billion dollar deficit. You will spend recklessly on other things and then frantically look for ways to recover some of that money.

The Buck stops with mereally meant: The economy stops with you.

The best choice for working familiesreally meant: The best choice for anyone who is unemployed and wants to stay that way. It was also your fave quote of the campaign and we continue to hear it in every address.

Creating an education revolutionreally meant: You are hugely ambitious with grand promises, but your game plan will be slow, and a website called MY SCHOOL will be a new way to create ‘fear and propoganda’ in ‘working families.’

Addressing the biggest challenge of our time… Climate Changereally meant: You’ll throw around some ideas, travel abroad to discuss these ideas, and see what happens. If it’s too hard, you’ll let someone else work it out.

Mr Rudd, your beliefs seem to be disposable. You were there at my doorstep but you have failed to deliver me anything but junk mail. A lot of people like you.  But what I look for in a PM is performance not personality.  

Your announcements lack substance like you think we’re not ready or too dumb to hear the head spinning details.

Here is what I think KEVIN stands for now.

K – Kryptonite. You may have felt like Superman giving everyone 900 bucks, and telling us you’re here to tackle the tough issues. But you’re not faster than a speeding bullet, and you can’t leap tall buildings in single bound either. When you finished saving the economy with cash hand-outs, like Clarke Kent you went back to the office with your glasses on all sheepish and told yourself “I’m such a good person” until Lex Turnbull Luther exposed your stimulus. If the debt you’ve given this country doesn’t kill you, I don’t know what will.

E – Education Revolution. I had an education revolution at my place last week. I bought a new laptop too. E is also for ETS, but I almost forgot about that because it was sitting right at the back of the shelf somewhere.

V – Vendetta. You seem to have one for WA. Is it because they’re the only state led by a Liberal premier, or the fact that they failed to sit prettily on your proposed health reform? It’s like you’re determined to destroy their economy as you have destroyed the other major states’. I wonder who helps you dream these ridiculous plots up. Do you have Dr Evil on speed dial? Did he say to you: “Hmmmm, WA economy is booming hey?  You can destroy them.  Hit them where it hurts… the Resources and Industrial Sector. Force them to pay more tax, the oldest rule in the book.  (pats his kitty) The mining companies will have no choice but to take their business oversees, leaving thousands unemployed and the state in complete asphyxiation. Aahh ha ha ha ha ha“ 

I – In flight Entertainment. You seriously must have saved so much money on going to the movies with all the films you must watch on all those frequent 12 hour flights. So tell me..What did you prefer… The Hurt Locker or Avatar? I’m envisaging you as more of an Avatar kind of guy. It might have something to do with you apparent love of fantasy.

N – NEVER. Are you ready for this one? Never salute to the most hated man in politics – GW Bush. Never arrange insulation for anyone again. Never twitter porn. Never dine in public places with Rupert Murdoch’s men on a popular strip in a restaurant owned by a movie star. You’re going to get noticed. Never criticise the air hostess. Never laugh into a microphone that’s turned on again. Please? It’s like fingernails down a chalkboard. It hurts my teeth. Never criticise the leader of Opposition for exercising instead of discussing health reforms. Actions speak louder than words Kev, and on the subject of health, Mr Abbot appears to know more than you.

  

So back to the day I voted and my metaphor.

Like my phone – you seem lost. You’re wandering aimlessly looking past your shoulder and asking yourself, “Haven’t I already been to this spot?”

You have. It’s a place you probably saw when Gough Whitlam was in charge, and you are there. You’re actually smack bang in the middle of Way To Screw The Economy Prime Minister – Highway.

Back in your election campaign you gave the promise of a Tepanyaki dinner. A good healthy meal for all ‘struggling working families.’ But some of the meal is under cooked. Some burnt to a crisp and completely inedible. We’re getting stuff we didn’t order, and you’re telling me that what I did order, you’ve not got?

I won’t be coming back to this restaurant again. Because to make it worse, you started throwing raw eggs about, and I have a feeling that tomorrow when you announce the budget, that raw egg is gonna’ fly.

Yes Prime Minister. The eggs in my metaphor are your budget. Eggs are precious.

Every year you pollies create a budget that changes the shape of our economy. Last year your budget reminded me of when I was 18 and lied about my income to get a MYER card. I had a great 6 month spending spree and nearly poo’d my pants when I saw how much I owed at the end of it. It took me 6 years to pay it off.

So I’m begging you – to stop throwing eggs around like it’s a joke yolk… You’re making a huge mess. The economy is not a big fry pan that you can make scrambled eggs in. It’s more like a Pavlova, and the egg part is delicate and central to the success of the dish.

I’m hoping that by this time next year we’ll have new leadership, and that tomorrow will be the last time I have to endure this Kitchen Nightmare.

You’re popularity is at an all time low. It’s because you lied. You sold us Dom Perignon and gave us Brut. If you want to win the next election – be honest. Tell the truth.

Because I know how much you like to rhyme, here are some ideas. (Forget “Kevin in 2011” – it’s been done, and besides, you need to call that election SOON)

There were few good men in 2010
So you might as well bloody vote for Ruddy.

I’ll travel the world in first class
My policies will be a bit of a farce

But I’ll have a laugh, I’ll give you cash
I’ll probably make the market crash

I’ll kill small business and enterprise
I’ll tax you high, and tell you lies

I’ll reward the ones who just don’t try
And healthy, hard workers will fry

I’ll talk of challenges in our time
But most importantly – I’ll rhyme.

And there you have it.  

Anyway, I must go. I’ve just seen a headline on tomorrow’s budget that is making my head spin so fast it’s giving me whiplash.

Sincerely not yours,
Cindy

PS. Has anyone ever told you – you look like ‘Smithers’ from The Simpsons?

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending… to the Blue Wiggle

Dear Anthony

I’ve noticed you’ve been bleaching your teeth. Or maybe you just got a whole new set?  Hell we all know you can afford it. Whatever, they’re very white now aren’t they?

I noticed this morning – when I glanced at the tv and was nearly blinded. Is this an ongoing thing? Or was it a one off dental treatment? Either way – it’s time to lay off.

Actually – you could do that, or the other option is that next time you and the other wiggles get together; you all discuss the issue of your teeth. You all have matching outfits, so perhaps you could put it to the other wiggles, Murray in particular who has a mouth that looks like a can of kidney beans, that they consider bleaching too, you know, so you all have matching smiles.

Here are some before and after shots I found of your teeth.

before
after

If you’re going to recommend your dentist to them, perhaps give them a heads up and tell them to ask your dentist to go easy. Because Anthony, your glowing smile is…. well let’s just say in the event of a black out you could reflect light off your chompers and lead the children and animals to safety.

It might also be worth mentioning to Sam that if he doesn’t want to, no drama. Not only because he’s only been a wiggle for a little while, and might not have the cash flow the rest of you have, but also – he’s WAY younger and so his teeth aren’t so bad, but he will have to keep a close watch given that his shirt will only bring out the yellow in his teeth. If you don’t believe me, see Greg’s teeth in the before shot.

And look while we’re on the subject of uniforms, can you possibly mention to the wardrobe department, it’s time to lose the big belt buckles featuring the wiggles logo. It’s on your shirts, it’s in practically every song – we know who you are, I don’t need to read it above your crotch as well.

A wiggly wiggly thanks,
Cindy.

PS – I know he’s your special friend, but could you please also ask the script writers to kill off Henry the Octopus? Or at least make him mute? Please? I mean, come on. Watch this and tell me it’s bearable.

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending…. to Charlie Sheen

Dear Charlie

I’ve actually been meaning to write to you for a couple of weeks now to tell you that you used to be hot, and also to thank you – ever since you spoke to People Magazine regarding your last episode as Charlie Harper – and the end of your show, Two and a Half Men

Whether it’s over because CBS won’t pay you $1.5 million per epsiode, or because you’re an insurance liability, or because you need to go to rehab…. Thanks all the same. I believe you finished filming April 9… You must feel a bit sad.

I am. You see I’m not thanking you because I didn’t enjoy the show. Your sitcom gave me some good laughs over the years.  It’s just that the little fat kid is getting old and tall now, and I was starting to get really frustrated that the producers hadn’t renamed it to “3 Men.”

 

So I don’t have to be frustrated anymore. And neither does the wardrobe assistant on set, who must be SO OVER ironing those silly shirts of yours, which by the way are for sale on eBay! Did you know that?  

But now I’m wondering, as I do when all good shows come to an end – what will become of its leading stars?

The fat kid will be fine, mainly because he’s lost some weight and he’s got a smart mouth on him. I’m guessing he’ll probably end up with a bit part in a Seth Rogen film.

Jon Cryer I’m more concerned about. Maybe you could suggest he give David Schwimmer a call. You know, someone who understands his new found future of nothingness.

But mostly – and for the first time ever – I’m worried about what will happen to you. Financially you’ll be fine – since you stashed more cash from your show than Oprah. And the chance of you disappearing from public view is also unlikely… even if it is your mug shot.           

                               
(THEN and NOW: waiting at the cop station)
 
But your bad boy ways have finally caught up to you. The s**t’s hit the fan, and its flying all over the place. Your well oiled machine is squeeking. We all know shaved heads and bad disguises are the first signs that your on Loony Lane. What’s next – a pink wig? A cockney accent? A trip to Mt Cedars Sinai in the back of an ambo on a stretcher?  (Incidentally, the press are giving you a hard time for wearing your PJ’s outside. I think it’s perfectly acceptable – you’ve got baby twins. Hell I only have one and I’m often seen leaving home in my nightie.”

                              

In the past you’ve been a regular Houdini, escaping capture and punishment for decades of bad behaviour. In fact not only have you slipped through the Cracks of Justice, you’ve somehow been rewarded for your rebellion.

Charlie screwed up – let’s give him a job.  Let’s look back together shall we?

But first – let’s compare stories to make apparent your Teflon Coating.  Last Thanksgiving night – Tiger Woods, the highest paid (and horniest) man in sport, had a domestic dispute with his wife – got clubbed and hauled away, leaving behind a family and career practically in tatters.

Then, last Christmas night YOU – the highest paid (and even hornier) man in television attacked your wife with a knife, posted bail and somehow got richer and more popular.  In the days following your alleged attack on your wife, your show won the night in ratings – and you were nominated for an Emmy.

But that’s not the first time….

(Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images)

In 1990, you shot your fiancé Kelly Preston in the arm (by accident). You were rewarded with a starring role in The Rookies.

In 1995, you were outed as a frequent client of Hollywood Madam Heidi Fleiss and at the same time you were accused of assaulting a UCLA student who refused to have sex with you. You settled both matters in court and a few months later had a lucrative gig on Spin City.

Enter 1997, and you knocked your then girlfriend Brittany Ashland to the floor and split her lip. You got a year’s suspended sentence, two years probation, a $2,800 fine, and a gig narrating a TV special.

Not bad, but it gets better.

The following year after smoking crack and injecting coke, your dad Martin reported you for violating parole and forced you into rehab. That year you starred in 4 movies.

Then of course there was the Denise Richards saga a few years back. She left you reportedly because of your liking of hookers, gambling, drugs and alcohol. Instead of feeling remorse, you launched a kids’ clothing line and attended the Golden Globes with a huge nomination.

I like you Charlie Sheen. I do. Have done ever since Platoon. But this has got to stop. No more rides on the Bad Boy Express. It’s time to pay for what you’ve done… You’ve used up all your free passes. Passes that were given to you because:

A)     Your Hollywood royalty

B)      You have never pretended to be a good guy

C)      You’re very charming

D)     You’ve always played the bad boy and like many actors, people have confused you with the dude you’re playing… “He’s not a bad guy, he just PLAYS one.”

          

I’m sure you have some deep seated reasons for being such an ass hole. Charlie Harper goes to therapy. Do you? Has your therapist ever told you to get off the one way train to HAVOC? Maybe – but til now it’s been a propserous trip. And when I hear more sordid details of your yuletide attack I find myself thinking it must be one hell of a ride.

Like that you and your wife were on a coke and crack binge til the early hours, that you were both also drinking heavily, that you and Brooke were swingers…. and often welcomed third and fourth parties into the bedroom – sometimes with the wood outnumbering the petals. Who knew you swung that way? And why – O why – when your wife was in rehab, were you paying pro’s to play with your peen?

Listen carefully when I tell you that THE TEFLON HAS WORN AWAY. You are no longer impervious to the law. I’ve heard you could face up to five years in jail if you’re found guilty.

You’ve seen the sights, you’ve ridden the rapids. You’ve sampled the cuisine and done almost everything that ‘disorderly’ has to offer. Go to rehab, but do it properly. It’s no biggie…. heck these days it’s practically a career move.  

What have you got to lose? Certainly not your mind Charlie. Your looks? Going by these after and before shots, I’d say it might be too late for that….

    

I guess what I’m suggesting is that you give up the bad boy lifestyle. It’s no longer working out for you. HOWEVER, please don’t give up the bad boy roles. Jack Nicholson is going to die some day, and we all love a dude on film with a bad attitude and a high libido.

Thanks again, and again.
Cindy.

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending….to Suri Cruise.

Dear Suri

I don’t know if you can read yet, I know you go to scientology school. I have a feeling you might know more about Zenu and the alien beings that are trapped inside human bodies called Thetans than you do about the alphabet…. So I’ve included lots of pictures for you.

Just incase you can read,  I wanted to tell you that all the people who are saying you should not still be drinking from a bottle  at 4 years old don’t mean to pick on you.  You ignore them ok?

They are just upset with your dad. Mainly since Vanilla Sky, but also for a string of distractingly bad movies that they would like their money back for. Well the movies, and the couch jumping that you will probably cringe at one day like we all did, except that it’s your father so it’s worse for you, (sorry about that.)

Also – when you’re older you might start seeing pictures of yourself getting in and out of helicopters, going back stage at broadways productions, or pictures like the ones I’ve included below wearing Dolce & Gabbana trench coats, carrying designer handbags, and buying lipstick… and these photos will be accompanied by headlines like, “Suri Cruise’s Spoilt Life” or “Suri Cruise: Proud Owner of a $30,000 Toy Car.”

There may be some other funny things you come across too. Like that your father isn’t your father; or that your father shortlisted a bunch of women to be your mother; or that you’re your father has sucked the life out of Joey Potter good and proper.

Look the stuff about you – just ignore. In a few years everyone will forget about you until you’re 16 years old and discovering boys, drugs and what it feels like to wear no underpants.  If your mum gets knocked up again you might even get a break sooner than you think.  The stuff about your parents though, that will probably persist.

Here’s my suggestion. Lay low.  Quit with the designer threads and the high heels and stop flaunting your fabulous lifestyle all over town. Normally I’d be writing to your mother about this, but she told everyone YOU’RE the one who chooses your clothes, and YOU decide what time to go to bed, and now we see YOU decide what to drink from.  So the ball is in your court.  Despite what granma told you, you can’t have your cupcake and lick the icing too.

If you don’t want the headlines to continue – stop now.  Put away your flamingo number and start dressing like Violet Affleck.  Nobody accuses her of anything but being happy.

I tell you what though Suri, you are one very stylish little girl, and given the selection of clothing you have chosen for yourself,  I’d say you should be knocking on Anna Wintour’s door for a job!

I hope you know how lucky you are that your parents give you US$3 million to spend on your wardrobe. Maybe some time I can come and visit you, and you can choose some clothes for me too.

Anyway, remember what I said. Now you be a good girl and go and tell your mum to make herself a strong cup of coffee. And maybe suggest she gets a spray tan, and for goodness sake… do something cute so she’ll smile.

Lots of love
Cindy

PS – Also – if you get a quiet moment with your dad, can you ask him to stop doing anything in front of a camera for a while. Like forever?

A letter I doubt I’ll be sending….to Lindsay Lohan.

Dear Linds

I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. My uncle’s name is Lindsay and he’s a bit crazy too.

Look I really want to thank you. This past 12 months you have made my life so entertaining. Your gradual and agonising demise into celebrity insanity has not only kept millions of photographers and gossip writers employed, your life has given me something to think about. You do confuse me, but I think that’s part of your appeal. I hear your name or see your face on a mag cover and think with delight, “Ooh, what’s she up to now?”

Hey do you remember when you looked like the above photo? I don’t know what you think when you see it – but I think how glad I am that these days you’re looking more like this:

or this

The fact that your hair (and nose for that matter) probably see more chemicals than a science lab, that you forget to wash off last night’s makeup and that you haven’t wasted any of your money on exfoliant, your intense dependence on black leggings and fur jackets, and your sad devotion to your very own range of self tanners and posing in your undies  – only makes you more endearing.

I LIKE that lately you have 3 basic poses in magazine shoots: the orgasm face, the “I’m half asleep but look – I can still smoke a cigarette” face, and the “this is what my underwear coming off looks like” pose.  I LIKE that you are writing your own memoir that will probably go something like this, “Scored a movie role in The Parent Trap and then Herbie, and then Mean Girls. Sang about my dad in prison, Paris Hilton called me Fire Crotch. I stopped eating for a while, and then remembered a movie I once made – and decided to get FULLY LOADED…. The rest is a bit of a blur.” I LIKE that you fill your shoes with talcum powder and have the world wondering if you’ve invented a new place to store your coke.  I LIKE the fact that you constantly open yourself up on Twitter to the haters. It reminds me what can happen when you do. Like this from your ex.

Lindsay Lohan: i need MORE followers i am so sad about this, how can i tell everyone about my 6126 full collection COMING OUT! all clothing
Samantha Ronson: @lindsaylohan i’ll only follow if you’re starting a cult driven mass suicide.

Even if she did follow it with this:

Samantha Ronson: @lindsaylohan apparently people don’t get my sense of humour- oops. i’ll start the cult- you come join me!!!!

I LIKE that you showed us the mountain of mess that is your wardrobe on Celebrity Insider – Hoarders. I LIKE that you continue to stumble out of nightclubs with your mother, 15 year old sister and about 3 body guards at 4am while covering up your face and you’re your dignity with a big handbag. I LIKE that after being refused entry to Dior’s show in New York fashion week, you tweeted all about the obvious mistake with the guest list, I LIKE that your father is a loose unit and has a fixation with talking to you via the media, I LIKE the fact that you single handed-ly drove Ungaro’s Spring Line into the ground by co-designing a line that included nipple stickers shaped in love hearts, and I LIKE the fact that the amount of times you’ve shown us side-boob outnumbers the amount of movies you’ve made, or hit singles you’ve had.  And speaking of songs, I like that your most recent song STUCK –  is all about you. I guess that’s good. It means you won’t change anything.

But Linds, what’s this I hear…. Are you coming UN-STUCK…. You went to India and made a documentary where you saved children’s lives – you say! Does this mean sobriety for you? Modesty? A new demure Lindsay?  I’m not sure what this means for you. Maybe not much.

Whatever happens this year, I know we can all count on you. Not only to keep us entertained, but also to keep hundreds of people in jobs. Even if you can’t get one yourself.

Thanks again,
Cindy

xoxoxox

PS – Can I borrow your black suede ankle boots with the peep toe, and the fringe around the top… you know the ones you wore at your 23rd birthday gig. Mine got misplaced last weekend when I was pulling my undies half down for a photo shoot….. you know how it is.