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Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Dan and Eric should never have called me "The Baroness."
Let this be a lesson to you all: never, ever fan the flames of my vanity by comparing me to super hot comic book characters, as it will result in Google image searches for the rest of my life.
Seriously, I should be in that stupid G.I. Joe movie. C'mon, Hollywood, you know you want to.
Just build the breasts into the costume and we're set. I promise, I will carry myself as though I've lived with that rack all my life.
I even have long hair and no bangs now! Thank David for that. And I can learn a Russian accent. And I'm available for work. How convenient, eh, Paramount Pictures? How convenient indeed. And I'll probably be 26 by the time you actually start filming this thing, you lazy bastards. Surely by that time I will be so poised and grown-up that the role of femme fatale will slip onto me like a delicious and buttery leather glove. Sure, at 24 I am currently awkward, both socially and physically, and have no muscle tone to speak of, but a lot can change in a year or so.
And my sister can play Scarlett! She has red hair now!
Give me money! And fame! But first: money.