Dear Ryan Seacrest,

Dear Ryan Seacrest,
I need my own tv show. It's not so much a want, more a need. For both of us.
A bit about me: I am a typical 9 to 5'er (correction 9 to 6'er, that whole "9 to 5 bit" is a major falsity, I'll write to whoever started that lie later), who feels my talents would be better served in front of the camera of my own half hour (could be an hour if the editing was done right) television show. I am willing to do almost anything on my show (well except maybe bite the head off of a pigeon a la Ozzy Osbourne, but definitely don a unitard and walk the streets of Los Angeles with a midget a la Chelsea Handler - I love love love miniatures, but that's a separate letter). I am also great with people and can chase them down in 5 inch heels if necessary (don't ask). I think alcohol is 50% of the food pyramid and carbs should be the other 50. I used to be so ugly I had to sneak up on water to get a drink. I have a dating history that rivals "Another World" (RIP). I can also have an entire conversation with an answering machine or any other inanimate object.

Call me.


P.S: I don't eat meat.


Monday, March 28, 2011

I'm Still a Fugly Girl at Heart

Today when I got back from lunch one of the male models was outside and he asked me if I could let him in to the studio since our security guard was at lunch. I just smiled and nodded. He was so pretty. I was wishing I wasn't holding a too full target bag and my giant Sonic tea. I wanted to look graceful and chic. Instead I looked like a bag lady who has difficulty walking in heels.

I let him in and said "thank you". What?!? Why the F did I thank HIM? What was I thanking him for? Thank you for allowing me to let you in the door? Thank you for making me feel like the 9 year old girl with such big gaps in my teeth I could transform myself into the human water fountain?

Fail.
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