Instead of posting pictures of celebrities not celebrating Memorial Day for its intended purpose (I’ll just do it tomorrow, damn it) I would like to extend you some cool shade to rest under. My favorite long suffering insomniac Miss Jia has a great feature on her blog called Dear Celebrity where readers offer, ahem, loving advice to entertainers in the form of a letter written straight from the heart.
The next time you see Brother Princey in passing thank him for doing the Lord’s work. I already have.
Dear Keri Hilson,
I, like many lovers of good music and personal style, have patiently waited for the day where I would awaken to the news of a fire in your Atlantic Station apartment building. Or even a freak accident involving your tour minivan along the rural roads of Mississippi. Sadly, this day has yet to come… but hope still lives in the hearts of the righteous.
(Caution: Long read ahead)
Some nights I lie in bed on a conference call, with my close circle of friends (and the Armenian b-tch who used to tint my eyebrows), asking why we would be so unfortunate as to have to endure your excruciating vocal assaults, abrasive looks, and laughable fashions. We’ve come to the only logical conclusion: God has you blocked on His heavenly timeline. He knows not what you do. He knows not how we suffer.
Judging from your random self-empowering outbursts on Twitter, it has come to our attention that you feel as though you have “haters” in the world. Oh, contraire madame!! We are not haters, per se. We’re simply tired of your drab and talentless ass life, for a number of reasons that I’ve chosen to outline as we move forward:
