Posts tagged celebrities

DEALMAKER/BREAKER: You Are Lady Gaga
You told me to meet you here, in the back room of what appears to be either a giant shoe store or a gay bar. You called me “Lovely” as if that was my name (it’s not). You ordered me a drink, and it was a smoothie made of hundred dollar bills and glitter. I’m more of a Jameson man, myself, but I guess I appreciate the thought? You told me my clothes were “not camera ready,” and you gave me a shirt made of ostrich feathers. But, you’re really hot? I think? I actually don’t know what you really look like, to tell you the truth. But, I guess any girl who wears that much makeup at all times must be a knockout, right? Or not? Look, I’m too confused to fight this. Yes, I’ll go on your hot pink private jet. Yes, I’ll drink champagne w/you and Perez Hilton. Yes, I’ll roll around in a giant hamster wheel while you throw red paint on me. This must be what it feels like to fall in love. That, or I’ve lost my fucking mind.

DEALMAKER/BREAKER: You Are Lady Gaga

You told me to meet you here, in the back room of what appears to be either a giant shoe store or a gay bar. You called me “Lovely” as if that was my name (it’s not). You ordered me a drink, and it was a smoothie made of hundred dollar bills and glitter. I’m more of a Jameson man, myself, but I guess I appreciate the thought? You told me my clothes were “not camera ready,” and you gave me a shirt made of ostrich feathers. But, you’re really hot? I think? I actually don’t know what you really look like, to tell you the truth. But, I guess any girl who wears that much makeup at all times must be a knockout, right? Or not? Look, I’m too confused to fight this. Yes, I’ll go on your hot pink private jet. Yes, I’ll drink champagne w/you and Perez Hilton. Yes, I’ll roll around in a giant hamster wheel while you throw red paint on me. This must be what it feels like to fall in love. That, or I’ve lost my fucking mind.


DEALMAKER: You’re Jeff Goldblum
He stands in my kitchen, his muscular frame silhouetted by the light of the open refrigerator.  The days of making love have left me exhausted- I fight the urge to close my eyes by trying to recognize the tune he’s been singing.  It’s a meandering melody, but it sounds familiar… as familiar as his breath on my cheek or the sound of his laugh buried in the pillows.  He sits on the bed beside me, brushing my hair from my forehead.  The song quiets until it becomes a whisper.  And then, like that- he is gone.  All that is left is a note:
"God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates Man. Man destroys God. Man creates Dinosaurs"

DEALMAKER: You’re Jeff Goldblum

He stands in my kitchen, his muscular frame silhouetted by the light of the open refrigerator.  The days of making love have left me exhausted- I fight the urge to close my eyes by trying to recognize the tune he’s been singing.  It’s a meandering melody, but it sounds familiar… as familiar as his breath on my cheek or the sound of his laugh buried in the pillows.  He sits on the bed beside me, brushing my hair from my forehead.  The song quiets until it becomes a whisper.  And then, like that- he is gone.  All that is left is a note:

"God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates Man. Man destroys God. Man creates Dinosaurs"


You’re Not Mark Ruffalo
Look, we’ve tried everything, but you’re not Mark Ruffalo. You’re a really great guy, but you’ll never be the star of such films as Zodiac and The Brothers Bloom, and you’ll never be as mumbly and handsome. I’m sorry, but I guess you can’t count on me. Please leave.

You’re Not Mark Ruffalo

Look, we’ve tried everything, but you’re not Mark Ruffalo. You’re a really great guy, but you’ll never be the star of such films as Zodiac and The Brothers Bloom, and you’ll never be as mumbly and handsome. I’m sorry, but I guess you can’t count on me. Please leave.


You’re a 29 year old paralegal. It’s hard to take you seriously with Tiger Beat centerfolds taped up all over your cubicle. No, I’ve never considered getting bangs. Stay away from me.