Sunday, August 05, 2007

I know who killed me




No, I didn't see the movie.

I've held out on talking about Lindsay Lohan and her troubles because they make me bizarrely sad. I know they should fill me with a sense of schadenfreude, like Paris' do, but they don't. I finally figured out why they do today. Lindsay Lohan is gorgeous and talented. Look at who she worked with throughout her career, however short: Dennis Quaid, Natasha Richardson, Tina Fey, Robert Altman, Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, Jamie Lee Curtis, Tommy Lee Jones, Rachel McAdams, Kevin Kline, John C. Reilly, Virginia Madsen, Jane Fonda, Emilio Estevez, William H. Macy, Sharon Stone, Anthony Hopkins, Laurence Fishburne, Felicity Huffman... she could have been the next Jodie Foster or something. Instead, something inside her - I don't know whether it was the fact that at heart, she's really a cold bitch, or whether it was the fact that she never really had any sort of family - inspired her to want to be the next Paris Hilton. She doesn't want to use her talent; she'd rather spend her nights wasting it, sucking down drinks and sucking up coke. It's terribly sad, especially so because she's less than six months older than I am. Oh Lindsay, please less of what's above, and more of this:




For all our sakes.