Letters to Fuckable Celebs.

My writing has consisted of all cheesy, annoying bullshit lately, thus I have not been blogging much of it.

Before I begin again, here's another [longer] edition of "I would tap...", just as a reflection of my ridiculous moods as of late. Sometimes, being rude and superficial is stress-relieving and fun.


The alt people of color obsession continues.


Dear Hayley Williams, I hate your music and your "the scene isn't dead until we say so" band mates, but there is something about you that will always scream "fuck me crosseyed" even though you look disgusting in 80% of your pictures. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Avril Lavigne, I have a lot to say to you. First and foremost, please note my above comment about Hayley Williams' music and apply it to your own. You were my first girl crush, my 5th grade fantasy. I almost considered wearing a tie once because of you. Maxim can make anyone look attractive, and with all that airbrushing you look like a hot piece of ass, which I haven't thought of you as in a long time. If you can eliminate the Hot Topic wardrobe and politely step out of the Proactiv commercial limelight, I'll consider you. Only because I know in bed you would be a dirt nasty whore. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Katy Perry, I am so back and forth with you. Seeing you in a Proactiv commercial was enough to make my libido fizzle out for weeks. But then your Esquire photoshoot suddenly turned things around. For now, I dub thee as fuckable, but I'm watching you. If you have the gall to hook up with Lady Sovereign (UGH) and marry that fucking disgusting missing link they call "Russell Brand," then I must have a chance. Sincerely, Paris.
P.S. The sad part about seeing your naked picture is that I couldn't decide whether to stare at your bald-like-a-ten-year-old puss, or your pretty-damn-fug-when-makeupless face. I almost started calling you Katy Perro. Woof.


Dear Zooey Deschanel, Since you're basically Katy Perry's hipster doppleganger, I can't help but include you in this. However fug you may be as a blonde, thus far you have one-upped Ms. Perry because you've avoided acne cream commercials and haven't married a filthy British scumbag. Keep up the good work, baby. I love you.



Dear Amanda Bynes, This. Picture. Enough said. "The Amanda Show" indeed. God damn.


Dear Blake Lively, I don't know or care what other C-list movies you've starred in lately, the only one that matters is the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Your pants can travel all the way to my bedroom floor. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Scarlett Johansson, Sometimes pictures are worth a thousand words, so I will let this one speak for itself. All I really have to say, is that seeing your breasts renewed my belief in God. It's like they spoke to me in holy tongues. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Taylor Swift, I used to really despise you. My opinions of your music are on par with those of Hayley and Avril's, however suddenly you are hot to me. I had a dream last night that you fell in love with me at a Manhattan garage sale and we ran away together after burning down a house. I even bought you a prepaid phone at a gas station. That's got to mean something. I'd like to strip away that innocent exterior to hopefully find something slutty and unreasonably perverse underneath. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Ke$ha, Not much is known about you yet. But since it's clear that "my type" is girls that constantly teeter on the brink between pretty and grotesque, you have made my fuckable list. I suppose I just have a thing for down-syndrome Olsen twin girls. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Megan Fox, You know how on occasion you can look at a photo and just be able to tell that the person is a fucking bitch? Well, that's you. A lot of people say you're crazy, but getting in bed with insanity is kind of my thing. I don't mind if you're bipolar. With me, you'd have a reason to throw out your meds and just be manic all the time. And if you fell back into one of your depressive phases, I'd sadistically rub it in your face and slap you around naked until you snapped out of it. Think about it. Sincerely, Paris.


Dear Kristen Stewart, My offer still stands, baby. But I swear to God, if you are really pregnant with that creepy British man's child, all hope will be lost. Drop the zero and get with the hero. Sincerely, Paris.