Friday, January 25, 2008

Like the Corners of My Mind

Today, I read that Lindsey Lohan is shopping around her memoirs. And then I squeezed my eyes closed real tight and whispered "Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God."

Doubters will say "But Lindsey's so young. What wisdom could she possibly have to offer?" Whatever. Lindsey's young, sure, but she's lived, man. And you? You've probably never even thrown up in a limo. Or at least not more than once. And I suspect you can probably recall many of the individuals with whom you have had sexual relations over the years. Lindsey often can't remember who she's having sexual relations with while she's having them. And it's those kinds of experiences from which life lessons are born, folks.

Excerpts below. Come, learn with me!

November 1, 1997
God, Dennis Quaid is such a douche. It's like he doesn't even care that I play TWO people in this movie. I'm in every scene, twice. That's like Lindsey Lohan Squared. Does he think it's easy? Whatever. He is so washed up anyway. I told my agent I wasn't even doing this stupid movie unless we could get somebody important, like Robert DeNiro, or Will Smith, to play my dad. But my mom says I have to do it because they put the house up for dad's bail and she's worried he's going to leave. I told my personal assistant that I don't care if he leaves but she said I really do and then I threw the phone at her.

Last night, after we got done shooting my scene, I had the limo driver take me and my friends Ashley and Mary Kate to this bar. I can't remember the name. My mom went too, which is so not cool. But whatever, she just sits at the bar and tries to get free drinks. While we were doing rails in the bathroom this skanky bitch came in and she was all 'Oh my God, Lindsey Lohan!' But I was all 'Get the f#%^ out of here, whore.' Mary Kate says her name is Paris. Which is so retarded, because Paris is, like, a country in England or something. My tutor is going to be so psyched that I remembered that.

Love,
Lindsey

May 16, 2007
God, rehab gets lamer every time. What the hell is there to do in Utah, for f*#&'s sake? Sleep with a Mennonite or whatever? No thanks. Yesterday they tried to serve us water with lunch, but I was all 'Uh, do I look like a goddamned refugee? Who do I have to blow to get some Cristal around here? I will seriously burn this place down.' My therapist says I need to be accountable or something, and that I'm acting out because I'm angry at my mom. But I said I have like an accountant and a personal assistant and two maids, and they can do my accounting or whatever.

Last night Riley and I snuck out and went downtown to break into a drugstore because he thinks I gave him gonorrhea, so he wanted to steal some Bactine or something for it. Which is so ridiculous, because if I had gonorrhea I think my assistant would have told me. And if I really do have it, that skank Wilmer Valderamma gave it to me, for sure. Riley's totally annoying, but I am so not going 90 days without humping anything. He said I'm a firecracker in the sack, but I thought he was going to say firecrotch, and I totally hate that name, so I hit him with a lamp. He actually looks kind of cute when he's passed out.

Serenity now,
Lindsey

2 comments:

Trina said...

You are a freakin' genius sometimes:)

PMJG said...

I would enjoy reading that biography.