Monday, January 9, 2017

January 9, 2017

Dear Diary,

I have to admit that as Carrot Head's coronation inauguration approaches, I'm getting a little more anxious.  Dr. Morell says that this is natural, but now that my fathead idiot of a husband Bill has accepted the invitation, there's just no backing out.  I have to go.

Dr. Morell says that no matter how difficult it may be, I eventually have to face reality.  Right.  That's easy for him to say.  He doesn't have to be on national television looking like a sack of potatoes stuffed with Xanax while Carrot Head and his Russkie slut share a bed in my the White House.

I just wish for once, a woman would get up in front of the country and tell it like it is. I thought I was getting my wish last night when I sneaked into Bill's study and watched a few minutes of the Golden Globes Award show last night.  I told my nurse I was going to the kitchen for some cookies, because television without strict supervision is, according to Dr.  Morell, "verboten."  He thinks it's a bad influence on me.  But I managed a few moments of freedom!

Anyway, when I got there, I saw Meryl Streep up on stage.  They were giving her an award for something.  I think it was for crying on cue.  She's really good at that.  She can cry at anything, even if it isn't sad.  She can weep, sob, sniffle -- just about anything.  She could probably cry at the weather report if you just gave her a few minutes to prepare.  Now that I think about it, I could have used her as a media coach, but that's all water under the bridge now.

Besides, she might be good at crying, but to be blunt, I've always hated her.  After a while, all those crocodile tears just want to make me smack her upside the head.  Is there ANY role she'll take where she isn't tearing up about this or whining about that? UGH! She's so miserable.  I'm glad I'm not like that.  I'm a happy person by nature.  Well, usually.  I'm going through a rough patch right now.

The other thing I can't stand about Meryl is her face.  It creeps me out.  That's why we used to call her "Meryl Creep."  I'm sure she uses face powder, but she always seems so slimy to me, as if a great big sweat ball is hanging off the end of her nose. You know what I mean?  I think you do.  I think most people do, but none of them will say anything about her, because SHE'S MERYL STREEP and I'm just a poor girl from Arkansas who has to wear thick glasses when the Aricept wears off.

I don't mean to sound bitter, dear diary.  I suppose all those Hollywood swells like to worship their own. So what if they have no talent and have sex with anyone just to get a minor role in some B movie that nobody watches. Maybe I have to work on my ability to tolerate people who are thinner, prettier and loved by the public.

And can write a hefty check at the drop of a hat.

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