A Letter

Dear Angelina Jolie,
I’m going to shoot straight with you.  Most women don’t like you.  It’s partly because of that whole “stealing Brad Pitt from girl-next-door Jennifer Aniston thing” but mostly because you’re a ridiculously beautiful and mysterious creature.  Women prefer to be the only beautiful and mysterious creature they know.

Remember when you inappropriately (is it ever appropriate?) kissed your brother on the red carpet back in the 90’s?  Remember that time you wore Billy Bob Thornton’s blood around your neck and made out with him in public every 5 seconds?  Remember when you became Goodwill Ambassador to Cuba (or wherever, geography isn’t really my thing) and wore that same blue-grey shirt and green cargo pants for like, 3 years?  Remember when you won an Oscar for “Girl Interrupted” but then starting acting in crappy action movies?  I found all of these things odd, but I was willing to let them slide.

Then, you did that strange pose at the Oscars and got the whole country talking about it.  (Matt Lauer mentioned it on the Today show and I was horrified.  Why are serious journalists speaking about your scrawny leg?)  Why aren’t they focusing on how anorexic you look?  Your stupid high-split-up-the-side dress hypnotized our country and has everyone talking about your pose and not about your weight.

Since no one else has addressed it, I will:  You’re looking a bit frail these days, Ange.  I know you chase after those 36 children and fly back and forth to your villa in France a lot, but kindly take the time to eat a meal every now and again.  And none of that organic, raw food diet crap.  I’m talking meat, cheese, bread, french fries and a milkshake, mmmmk?

The next time I see that leg, I hope it’s a little meatier.
Love,
M

p.s.  Poor Jennifer Aniston can’t escape you.  Just when she thought you were fading out of the spotlight, BAM.  Every time she turns on her television she has to hear about your right leg’s Twitter account.  Can’t the girl get some peace?