A Plea

31 Jul

Dear Girls Gone Wild Participant(s),

You’re probably not going to like what I have to say.  You’ll think I sound like your mother, that I’m not “cool,” or that I’m jealous.  Get over yourself.  

Moving along, we need to chat – so put down your wine cooler and put on some clothes.  I realize that you are “barely legal” as the advertisements clearly state, so you aren’t as wise as you’ll one day be (God willing).  Let’s think, for a moment, about your future.  One day you’ll be all grown up and you’ll have to enter what we like to call “the real world.”  No, sweetheart, not that show on MTV.  The workplace.  What if you decide that you want to be a school teacher?  Do you think a principal would hire you if they knew of your 30 seconds of fame in Cancun?  No, there is no multiple choice.  The answer is no.  Or, what if you meet a handsome young man who has ambitions of running for office?  What if you grow a brain and decide to run yourself?  Your video escapades during your Freshman year will not allow for either.  Do you see where I’m going with this?  No?  Ok, we’ll try a different route.

Let’s say your mom and dad were flipping through the channels late one night and saw a GGW commercial.  Your mom says, “I can’t believe they show this smut on television” and your dad replies with, “Didn’t that guy go to jail for filming underage girls?”  Then, as they are about to turn the channel, they see their only daughter smile into the camera lens, drop her 82 ounce beverage, remove her bikini top and yell, “Girls Gone Wild!”  By the time the announcer says, “Get all three videos for the price of one” your mom has fainted and your dad has vomited.  Afterwards, they stop paying for your tuition and you are forced to move home, go to the local tech school and work part-time at Subway.  Would you be happy then?  No, they do not have sororities at technical colleges.  Now stop sending text messages about getting wasted tonight and look at me.

I’m only trying to help you.  Right now, getting drunk at Mardi Gras and taking off your shirt might sound like an excellent idea.  But one day, you’ll have some self respect and regret it.  Even if you don’t have any self respect, you’ll regret it.  Just look at Governor Elliot Spitzer’s call girl, Ashley Whatsherface.  She was offered tons of cash to take her clothes off until they realized that she already had for Girls Gone Wild.  No one wants to pay for an older version of her nakedness.  So, homegirl lost out – and is probably still working corners (or committee rooms in Washington).  I’m not condoning taking off your clothes for money, but if you insist on doing so, at least get something out of the deal.

The bottom line is this:  Joe Francis is the devil, and you should stay far, far away from him.  He’ll put you on his party bus, booze you up and hand you a contract to sign.  Don’t sell your soul (or body) to Mr. Francis.  He’s rich enough.  If he approaches you, instead of smiling seductively and agreeing to flash your boobs, smile seductively and kick him in the balls.  For all of us.

Thanks,
Me
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