This is how I feel when I watch Dina Lohan and Denise Richards on E! Entertainment Television. Trapped in a Hell that I have myself created.
Now, before I go on, I have to say I don’t begrudge celebrities their lifestyles and their quirks and their self-indulgence…as long as they deserve them in some capacity. Julia Roberts is an infectiously cute and charming actress, even as she ages, and she probably deserves some sick-ass gorgeous ranch in Taos with her organic baby food or whatever. Bill Gates revolutionized technology, so he deserves some insane mansion where the rooms adjust their temperatures when you walk into them. (Freaky!) Kanye West has created some incredibly catchy, fantastical musical gems, so he deserves to act like an asshole most of the time, and that’s fine with me.
But people like Denise Richards, Dina Lohan, Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, Heidi Montag and the rest of the band of merry sluts have done nothing to contribute to society in any way (no, your own fashion line does not count), and yet they are sucking our souls dry with their horrible reality television. (Yes, yes, I could turn it off, I KNOW. Just let me have my moment.)
Denise and Dina truly terrify me, perhaps because they are mothers. Dina clearly lives through her children and is so desperately attempting to create her own fame as her children are churned through the meat grinder of celebrity it’s terrifying. And Denise burns me up because her show if full of nothing but her whining, flipping her hair, talking about her dogs, and complaining that people write mean things about her. (There’s a little thing called inviting criticism, Denise. Check yo’self.)
Sometimes I wish I could get my hands on the Double Ds…
Things I Would Do with Dina Lohan and Denise Richards If I Could Get Away With It
Force them to restock shelves at Wal-Mart…no, not with cameras following them (look, it’s so funny to watch “celebrities” do “real work”!). No, I’m talking about just making them restock shelves at Wal-Mart. For ten years. In the blue bibs.
Ban them from using any personal trainers, assistants, hair stylists, makeup artists, and massage therapists. And chefs. And gardeners. And maids.
They have to make their own appointments with the cable company and no one will be there to film them as they complain about having to wait for the cable company.
Every morning, they have to sit down and read The New York Times and write a two-page summation of the current situation in the global marketplace. Page Six is banned from the house.
Do either of these ladies have a college degree? If not, they’re each getting one. And they have to wait tables while they earn it. And no, they cannot major in art history.
Absolutely NO SMALL DOGS will be allowed on their premises. The only dogs they will be allowed to own will be at least 80 pounds and intense droolers. And did I mention they have to walk their own dogs?
So far, that’s what I got. I’m sure I can come up with more. It’s lists like these that help a girl make it through the night sometimes, you know? I dunno. Maybe I just need serious therapy. Yeah, probably therapy. – Jennifer Mathieu