“Dude, you’re like, 42.” I said to Mariah Carey over mimosas and gummy bears this morning.
I was about three pitchers into my usual Sunday morning ritual of drinking and thumbing through the day’s headlines. Just as I was turning the page from an in depth feature in In Touch where Bristol Palin reveals she lost her virginity with Levi while being blitzed on wine coolers, I noticed Mariah’s new ad promoting her trio of fragrances “Lollipop Splash the Remix.”
She wasn’t paying any attention to me. She was captivated by a pink baby rattle shaking in front of her face as Betty White cooed “Who’s the pretty girl? Who’s the pretty little girl with stretch marks and crows feet? Who is it?!?”
Mariah just giggled and chewed on the ear of her Hello Kitty plush doll. Then she burped.
“Mariah, dear…aren’t you a bit old now for bedazzled butterfly hair clips and lollipops in your perfume ads? You are a mother of twins now – and about two Divas Live concerts away from hormone replacement therapy and hot flashes. I think it’s about time you ditch the aging tween schtick and start looking at adopting a more age appropriate sophistication. At a very least, finding a bra that isn’t three sizes too small.” I urged.
She was texting now as she smacked her strawberry flavored Bubble Yum.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Betty chimed in. “She’s been working the same tired trampy school girl with a butterfly fetish look for the last twenty years. You think she’s going to stop now? You’d have better luck getting Elton John to wear beige Converse and khakis.”
She had a point. I was just concerned. It just seems to me that a woman in her 40′s wearing charm bracelets and butterflies while sucking on a lollipop in a perfume ad is about as tragically self unaware as a bald man’s combover or heterosexual marriage to Tom Cruise. Someone HAD to tell her – and after three pitchers of mimosas, it made perfect sense for that person to be me.
Her latest fragrances — a trilogy inspired by her playful personality — are Never Forget You (“gourmet jelly beans and golden peony”), Vision of Love (“French macaroon and purple jasmine”) and Inseparable (“raspberry, mango, jasmine and orange flowers”). It’s the ideal bouquet to compliment the succulent scent of Chuck E Cheese pizza at a Build-a-Bear party.
Rather than spend any more time trying to convince her that her “sweet-and-innocent-without-a-gag-reflex” image was embarrassing for a woman old enough to have released albums on cassette tape, Betty and I decided to humor her and spent the rest of the day doodling boys names on Pee Chee folders and taking the “Does He Really Like You or Does He Just Want a Blow Job” quiz in Seventeen magazine.
Love ya like hoping he just wants a blow job,
“Sarah, you need to calm yourself down, Love-Biscuit. We both know that it’s impossible to extinguish the burning brush of young love. If Levi and Bristol are determined to make a go of their relationship, no amount of campaigning to the contrary will make a difference,” I said to Sarah Palin on speaker phone while I cracked eggs into my cake batter.
I was baking a cake for Lindsay Lohan. She really loves my Red Velvet Surprise – the surprise being a delicious center filling of Ghiradelli’s chocolate and Adderall. She requested it to sooth her nerves on the eve of her 90-day jail term that began today. She’s like a daughter to me, that one. So I was more than happy to appeal to her sweet tooth during these dark times. And by sweet tooth, of course I mean drug habit.
Poor dear Sarah was riled up after hearing the news that her daughter had reconnected with her baby daddy – and the two were planning to marry. They are also shopping around for a reality series to document their newlywed antics. It isn’t as though either one of them are qualified for much else these days – and the bills must be paid if they ever hope to build a college fund for little baby Tripp. And by college fund, of course I mean rehab.
“I really think you’re underestimating the power of their bond,” I continued, mixing in sifted cocoa, “Show me one reality show couple who hasn’t represented all that is good and pure about love and marriage. Ozzie and Sharon Osbourne. Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson. Vienna Girardi and Jake Pavelka. All shining examples of true love that serve as beacons to us all for what everlasting romance should look like over 18 episodes.”
At that point, Sarah put me on hold so she could shoot the beaver she’d been hunting in the woods all morning. I used it as an opportunity to click back to my phone sex date with Mel Gibson. When I clicked over, he was still screaming.
“Uh huh, yeah baby,” I breathed in monotone, “Yes, of course you deserve to be blown. Yes. Yes. I am a gold-digging whore. Yes. Hey honey, can you hang on a sec – I need to reattach my nipple clamps…they’ve come loose. Oh I’m such a bad boy!”
Our phone sex trysts have been getting rather intense of late. There is just something INSANE about his delivery these days that makes going to confession at the Catholic church more graphically descriptive – and my priest seems to really enjoy that.
I clicked back over to Sarah only to hear her giggling with loud gunshots in the background. My baking assistant, Betty White decided to help by adding two cups of rum to the cake batter.
“For the last time, Betty – this is NOT a rum cake!” I snapped, slapping her hand with my mixing spoon. “You never mix uppers with downers! That is the first thing they teach you in culinary pharmacy school! This cake has to be perfect for my baby-girl Lilo. Now hand me a pack of those Marlboro Reds. I’ll bake those in too so my little pumpkin has something to exchange for pills and lesbian sex.”
Over martinis and a joint, Betty and I spent the remainder of the afternoon icing the cake with my special cream cheese hydracodone frosting. Betty is really quite good at cake decorating, if you didn’t know. It’s fascinating to watch as she forms perfect borders of ribbons and pills – finishing it off with an even sprinkling of powdered sugar. At least I think it’s powdered sugar.
Unfortunately, the joint gave us both the munchies by the early evening – and we ended up eating the cake meant for dear Lilo. It’s just as well. It’s a smoke free jail anyway.
Love ya like prescription strength cake,
Link to Bristol/Levi Story: http://tvwatch.people.com/2010/07/20/bristol-palin-levi-johnston-reality-show-deal/
Link to Lindsay Lohan Jail Story: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/20/lindsay-lohan-surrenders-_n_652638.html
Link to Mel Gibson scandal: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/20/mel-gibsons-alleged-tripl_n_652352.html