Posts Tagged ‘FAVES!’

Dear Salma Hayek…

Thursday, May 5th, 2011

It honor of Cinco de Mayo I’m sending my fan mail today to the most famous Mexican person I can think of, Salma Hayek. At first I thought Penelope Cruz was Mexican and started writing to her, but it turns out she’s not Mexican, I’m just racist. Woops! Mi mal!

Growing up in Erie, Pennsylvania you don’t meet a lot of Mexicans. Erie is so far north it’s practically in Canada, and you know what they say in Canada — “no hablo espanol!” (and then of course, “je ne parle pas espagnol!”). In an effort to introduce the sheltered kids of Our Lady’s Christian School to latino culture, my fifth grade class took a field trip to the Mexican chain restaurant Chi Chi’s*. It was a pretty big deal because: (1) we didn’t have to wear our uniforms (instructed, rather, to “dress like Mexicans… they wear really bright colors!”); (2) we got to eat “real” Mexican food (we were idiots); and (3) we got to put on a show!!!! We had learned a few Mexican songs in Music Class so all the Chi Chi’s lunch patrons that day were treated to 60 10-year-olds, dressed like they were on their way to a gay pride parade, belting out “La Cucaracha” and the “Mexican Hat Dance” — how lucky were they?!! Nothing makes your Fried Ice Cream experience more authentic than white kids with finger cymbals and maracas! Ole!

* Fun sidenote: Chi Chi’s went bankrupt in 2003 after a Hepatitis A outbreak — ay carumba!

Dear Jennifer Love Hewitt…

Wednesday, May 4th, 2011

Oh man, she’s done it again — Jennifer Love Hewitt has been dumped. The perpetual singledom of Jennifer Love Hewitt is one of those concepts that will forever confuse me, like string theory, dangling participles or how Christina Aguilera’s face has ballooned into a shape that can only be described as Snooki-esque. Jennifer  seems very nice and normal to me. She catches a lot of flack for her ever-expanding ass, but I think that should say to guys “hey look at me, I’m low maintenance!” She’s always wearing sweats or pajama pants and it seems to me that most of the pictures I see of her she’s taking the trash out, so along with being low maintenance we know she’s not a hoarder. I think this girl sounds like a catch! Though I’m off the market now (sorry fellas!) I was once quite the whore, so I’d like to offer a few tips to J Lo 2.0 (how she let Jennifer Lopez steal that moniker from her is beyond me… as long as no one touches J Lill I guess I shouldn’t be bothered):

5 Tips from a Former Pro:

1. If you mention the term “hand jobs” in your profile it will get taken down. (Even if you mention it in a totally positive way, like, “guys are always telling me I give great hand jobs!”). Also, your password can’t be “ihatecats”.

2. It’s required that you say something in your profile along the lines of “I like to work hard, but play harder!!!” and/or “one day I’m in sneakers, the next I’m in Jimmy Choos!”. Apparently guys like girls who are both themselves, and also the opposite of that.

3. Photoshop every picture before it goes up (so obvious I debated listing it).

4. When the only pictures of a guy are taken by him in the bathroom mirror it means he literally doesn’t have any friends… which is perfect because that means more time for you!! Send him a message!

5. If a guy writes to you and tells you he “used to only date models but now he’s ready to find someone more normal” and then asks you out, don’t go out with him. He’s an asshole named Ranjeed and he will demand that you go dutch on his 3 Heinekens and your Diet Coke. F that guy.

Dear Antonio Sabato Jr…

Tuesday, May 3rd, 2011

If there’s a shitty gig, chances are Antonio Sabato Jr. has done it. His IMDB profile should be titled “what not to do in Hollywood”: two different soap operas, a VH1 reality show, more made-for-TV movies than Melissa Gilbert and Jaclyn Smith combined, plus the nail in the career coffin, a 2-episode arc on Joey. I know what you’re saying, you’re like “but Julia, he WON Celebrity Circus, the 2005 NBC reality competition show in which an all-star cast performed death defying circus acts and America voted for their Celebrity Circus champion, hosted by ‘N Sync’s own Joey Fatone!!!!” You’re right, you’re right… and I think we can all agree that when Antonio was launched out of the human catapult, rocketing right past Wee Man and Christopher Knight in the scoreboards, forever securing his place as Celebrity Circus king… he was peaking. It’s pretty much been a string of bad decisions since, and the news today is no different: Antonio just had a baby and named him Antonio Kamakanaalohamaikalani Harvey Sabato III. I mean… come on. My rule of thumb with names is that they should never be worth more than 20 points in Scrabble. This kid’s got a 41-point middle name! As if it’s not already going to be hard enough for him trying to live down the fact that he’s Antonio Sabato Jr.’s son! Unless “yeah, well my dad can juggle flaming knives while doing rhythmic dancing and he knows Matt LeBlanc” carries some weight on the playground, this kid’s in for an ass beating.

Dear un-named Navy SEALs who croaked that dipshit bin Laden,

Monday, May 2nd, 2011

On a day like today who can write fan mail to reality TV stars (Nene Leakes deserves a shout out after throwing down with Star Jones last night on Celebrity Apprentice) or baby-making songstresses (Mariah Carey finally popped!) or the object of random celebrity sightings (I did a show with Brian Dunkleman — the original host of American Idol — on Friday night; not braggin, just… well yes, I guess I’m bragging)? Celebrities schmelebrities, today my heart felt fan mail goes to the brave ass-kickers who wacked Osama bin Laden last night!

As many of my readers know, I spent some time in the Navy myself. Granted, the most dangerous thing I ever did was attempt a 10-minute jump rope workout on the flight deck of a Guided Missile Destroyer* that was rocking and rolling in the unpredictable seas of the Northern Arabian Gulf (very, very bad idea). Oh, and then this one other time I got into the habit of eating a pie (no shit, a whole pie**) every single day for like two months of a six month deployment so that I no longer fit into any of my uniforms… not really dangerous but trust me, VERY uncomfortable. Tight pants are a girl’s worst enemy. Speaking of enemies (what a segue!), we all have one less of them today thanks to a handful of brave Navy SEALs. Thanks, guys. keep up the good work. You, and everyone else in our military are what make us the best damn country on earth! (well jazz and corn dogs helped too, but it’s really mostly you guys)

* Shout out to USS HIGGINS!! What what!!
** Seriously, another day, another pie: lemon meringue, pecan, strawberry cream, apple, key lime… it was amazing! Until I put on 18 pounds. Then it was the opposite of amazing.

Dear Bethenny Frankel…

Monday, April 25th, 2011

Bethenny Frankel of Bravo’s Real Housewives of NYC/Bethenny Getting Married?/Bethenny Ever After is officially a genius. I’m talking oughta-be-in-Mensa-Bill-Nye-the-Science-Guy-probably-aces-those-online-IQ-tests-although-I’m-sure-she-doesn’t-have-the-time-to-take-them kind of genius. Everyone’s fave NYC house-ex-wife just sold her cocktail brand Skinnygirl Margaritas for (hold on to your sombreros) $120 million! Oy caramba! (Get it? Cuz she’s Jewish? Ahhh, these jokes just aren’t as good when I have to explain them.)

How’d she do it? As an aspiring multi-millionaire myself, I’ve decided to study Bethenny’s path to success and have been able to break down her business model:

1. Become famous.
2. Identify the fact that a) every female ever in the history of females loves margaritas (they’re like the drink equivalent to dolphins) and b) every female ever in the history of females has been/is/will be on a diet (duh).
3. Create Skinnygirl 100 Calorie Margaritas.
4. Mention Skinnygirl 100 Calorie Margaritas on every episode of everyone one of the three hit shows on Bravo in which you star.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I like to think of myself as an “idea person”, so while Bethenny has her low-cal margs, I’ve got some equally as impressive concepts in the hopper…

JULIA LILLIS’S POPCORN BUTTER IRRIGATION SYSTEM — it’s a linkage of small plastic tubes that connect to a funnel that will spread the liquid butter at a movie theater all over your bag of popcorn… No Kernal Left Behind! (currently undergoing beta testing — see diagram below).

JULIA LILLIS’S FAMOUS GREEN LASER DIET SPORK — It’s a well-known fact in the laser world that the particular band of wavelength that produces green light will give you an upset stomach if you look directly at it; and what girl trying to lose weight doesn’t love an upset stomach?! I give you, my Green Laser Diet Spork: a spork that emits a green laser beam so as soon as you start eating with you’ll be overwhelmed with a subtle backdrop of nausea to take away all desire to consume solid food (sure to be a hit in sororities nationwide).

SPHERICAL BANANAS (No explanation necessary)

Any potential investors, please contact me through… let’s get rich together!!!


Dear Alicia Silverstone…

Friday, April 22nd, 2011

Happy Earth Day! When I think “green celebrities”, I think “Alicia Silverstone“. Whenever she pops up in the news it’s because she has something to say about recycling or cruelty-free eating or naked gardening. I’d like to point out that I not only recycle plastics, glass and paper, I routinely recycle jokes which you may or may not have noticed by now if you’re an avid reader of this blog. Just trying to do my part, ya know?

While I can get down with the recycling, the cruelty-free eating thing is a tricky one. I mean, I don’t WANT my food to be tortured. I don’t go to a steakhouse and order the waterboarded rib-eye with a misery au jus, but I do love my meat. And my half-meat (not sure what Taco Bell is using these days but don’t change a thing in those Chalupas, ya hear me!?). I enjoy a burger and I just want to be able to eat it in peace, yet the irony of cruelty-free eaters is that although they don’t eat anything that’s been tortured, eating with them is almost always torture (can you pipe down about this Double Double, I’m about to experience food nirvana and your yammering is really distracting).

So, on this Earth Day I’d like to reach out to everyone and say: let’s all do our part! Bring reusable bags to the market! Don’t let the faucet run when you’re brushing your teeth! Turn off the lights when you’re not in the room! Keep the air in your car tires at the right pressure! Stop printing out emails! Write fan mail on recycled envelopes! Confront and scold the douchebag at the market who parks his Range Rover in the Electric Vehicles Only Parking Spot and make him feel like less of a man! And please… let me gorge on animal flesh in peace!

ps. She’s knocked up in the pic below so ya know, cut her some slack.

Dear Katy Perry…

Friday, March 18th, 2011

Katy Perry’s mom is writing a book about what it’s like being Katy Perry’s mom, plus a lot of religious stuff because she’s an Evangelical Preacher and that’s kind of their thing.  Now I’m a huge fan of Katy Perry, mostly because of her music (“California Gurls” has been stuck in my head for 9 straight months), but I also admire the way she just throws those tits of hers on a platter and prances around in ridiculous outfits that look like they were made by pillaging a dumpster behind Toys R Us.  Her boobs really are a national treasure.  If I had boobs like that I’d be doing the exact same thing.  But I don’t.  Instead I wear pads and water bras and things filled with gel; wire and straps are usually involved and sometimes I throw in a pair of chicken cutlets for good measure… my chest is more like an arts and crafts project than anything that resembles cleavage.  Because of this, at various points in my life, I’ve left men wildly disappointed when I’ve pulled out the paper mache and rather than seeing some big ol’ fun bags they can bat around, they are faced with my mildly entertaining satchels.

In summary, if Katy Perry’s mom wants a best seller, it should just be about boobs.  About Katy Perry’s boobs.  About her own boobs.  About passing on this incredible boob gene to her daughter.  New York Times Best Seller for sure!!!

PS.  No homo.

Dear Liam Neeson…

Thursday, March 17th, 2011

In honor of St. Patty’s Day I decided to write my fan mail to an Irishman.  Isn’t Liam Neeson just the best?!  Literally, he’s the best: here’s a survey that found that he’s the most popular Irish person in the US.  See, I told you, the best.  I just saw his movie Unknown and although I still don’t know if he was a good guy or a bad guy (or a good guy pretending to be bad or vice versa, it was very confusing but that could in part be blamed on the pre-movie day-drinking I was involved in — hey, no big woop, I’m Irish!), so although I kind of had no idea what was going on, even in my drunken state I walked away saying “Damn that Leon Neilson is a great actor” to which my boyfriend said “Uh, it’s Liam Neeson” to which I said “Why do you always have to correct me?! You think you’re soooo smart, don’t you?!  Whatever, ARE YOU EVEN IN LOVE WITH ME??!!” (I’m an angry drunk).

Now I happen to be 3/4 Irish myself and I’m not just saying that because it’s cool to be Irish on St. Patrick’s Day; I know this fact because my dad spends a shitload of time on, which is sort of the opposite of cool, but hey dad, keep up the good work!  In honor of St. Patrick’s Day I’m going to dress up like a homeless person who really likes green and make my annual March 17th trip to McDonald’s where I will treat myself to a large order of fries.  I know, I know,  McDonald’s is technically Scottish, but that’s practically the same thing, plus Irish are known for their love of potatoes (or for not having enough potatoes? or something like that…).  Before I head home I plan on washing my taters down with a giant fluorescent green minty Shamrock Shake.  No way you’re gonna tell me a Shamrock Shake isn’t 100% Irish?!  Folks, that’s what I call 3 killing birds with one Blarney Stone.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Dear Jake Gyllenhaal…

Tuesday, March 15th, 2011

It’s official, Jake Gyllenhaal has a mini-schlong.  Bummer!  The good news is there are plenty of options for men like him; I get emails about them all the time! I’m sure it’s not cheap to have your penis enlarged, but I also have a hook-up with this Nigerian prince who has like a million dollars in gold bars that he needs to transfer into a U.S. account.  What I’m saying is, using just the contents of my gmail spam folder, I think Jake could get his situation sorted out.

I’m sure you’re dying to know how I got this mini-peen scoop… it’s a little thing I like to call “deductive reasoning”. This past weekend at SXSW, Jake got into a fight in the men’s room when someone tried to snap a dick pic.

Here’s a classic deductive reasoning proof:

  1. All men are mortal
  2. Socrates is a man
  3. Therefore, Socrates is mortal

… which leads me to:

  1. All men with large penises want to show them off.
  2. Jake Gyllenhaal is a man and did not want a stranger to take a picture of his penis while he was taking a leak.
  3. Therefore, Jake Gyllenhaal has a small penis.

Simple logic!

Dear Ken Jennings…

Tuesday, February 15th, 2011

Ken Jennings and some other smart guy have finished Day 1 of their Jeopardy battle against IBM’s artificial intelligence computer, Watson, who is currently tied for the lead. Ummmmm, I’m sorry but who do these a-holes over at IBM think they are? We’re purposely trying to make computers smarter than people now? Is that the plan? And then you’re gonna have one of them publicly humiliate the one guy we’ve collectively decided is the smarted out of all us humans? These computer nerds have gone and lost their damn minds! May I suggest a company-wide screening of The Terminator? Just gather everyone up in a big conference room and watch what happens.

Listen IBM, you’re thinking too hard about this whole computer thing. People just want computers to be able to do what they’re made for — check facebook. Beyond that it’s gravy. Why don’t you fellas leave work early today, go back to your mom’s basement and get into some D&D with your buddies and we’ll see if we can’t get Alex Trebek to pull the plug on ol’ Watson before he gains self-awareness and starts launching nuclear missiles at Russia.