Saturday, February 17, 2007

Hello Brit ... Daddy Here ...

Brit, dahlin', Mom and I are getting worried about you.
We agreed that dumping that loser Fed-X was a good idea ... after all, did you see that performance at the Superbowl ... gawd, I would rather see one of Janet's saggy tits.
And we like our new grandbaby. We would have had great plans for her if Anna had only had a boy.
But lawdy, lawdy, gone done a Sinade O'Connor on us.Went from Goldilocks, to brunett to bald - just like Pops - all in a month. Think of all that money mom and I spent to coiff you in the very best for your ... er ... ahem ... talent ....and ah ... career. And doing the deed by yourself? Honey, you didn't hear a peep out of me when you started hanging around with that anorexic cat-woman, Paris, we didn't even complain when you flashed your well-worn pubes for the papperatzi guys ... we know -- "it's just business". But this!!!
And a new tattoo? Of red lips on your wrist? Are you sending one of those subtle and symbolic symbols that you found in William Blake's poetry that Paris is kissing your wrist ... or whatever?
Come home honey ... we will hide you in the basement until you get better.
We will even hire a full time nurse for you.


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