Tag Archives: Chris Meloni

A Belated Valentine To Angelina


My Most Beautiful Angelina,

I realize this Valentine letter comes a day late. Forgive me. Let that in no way be a reflection of my deep and amourous feelings for you.

I am supposing that you are quite busy with your brood of multi-colored children at this point, as well as a less-than-tidily groomed Brad Pitt. I hear also that you have had adventures of directing as of late- I am sorry to say that I was unwilling to drive 100 miles to the nearest theatre that was exclusively showing  the fruits of your directorial debut. That too mustn’t be a reflection of the affection I harbor in my heart for you.

I was just wondering, if you could find the time in your busy amazing life, if you would consider being my Valentine? I would find it most exciting to sit next to you on my couch and perhaps hold your veiny man-like hand, even for a moment. If you prefer, I would be willing to cook you some Kraft macaroni-n-cheese while wearing heels and an apron. (Although that seems to have the opposite effect that I intend, so maybe we will forego that)

I have long found you breathtakingly beautiful. I would like to point out that I adored you long before the rest of the world- before the multiple marriages to the revolting Billy Bob and before the make-out incident with you brother made people believe you were nuts, (I believe you were just suffering from temporary insanity; either that or you acquired some REALLY GOOD drugs) I was there. I spent hours watching your movies Hackers and Playing By Heart, though I must admit that I couldn’t make it the entire length of your clearly mis-chosen Cyborg 2. Also, your portrayal of Gia was heartbreaking and stellar- despite the fact that I was slightly disturbed that they had such an unattractive blonde playing your girlfriend.

I admire you greatly for all the work you do in countries that you are not from. Also, what a great influence you have been on Brad. (Regardless of the influence you’ve been on his looks.) I have no doubt that if he was still with Jennifer, they would be floating around Hollywood in their own self-absorbed bubble. Instead, you have gotten Brad to think of someone other than his formerly-beautiful self. For that, you deserve a kiss. I would be more than willing to administer said kiss, if you are unable to find a more worthy Kiss Donor.

Despite the fact that in recent years you have become increasingly gaunt, I still find you attractive. For some reason, the men in Minnesota seem to find you scary and unalluring- which I find strange considering the fact that men in Hollywood OBVIOUSLY find you as appealing as I do. The fact that you portrayed my favorite gaming heroine Lara Croft may have a little something to do with my fixation for you.

I well understand your need for  numerous children, as I have had the same need for many years. Sadly, I have not yet reached Sexual Icon Status as you have, so I lack the funds to provide the proper number of nannies required for such a family. Perhaps you could just share yours? I don’t see why another mom for your children wouldn’t be an idea you would relish. The more the merrier, right?

It is my greatest wish, (aside from giving Chris Meloni a booby squish and maybe more) to have you as my Valentine this year.  If you would be willing to let go of Brad for the day, (or forever) I would gladly take his place. (And look better doing it)

XOXO,

Sparklebumps

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Sparklebutt


Woo! I finally got an award I’m completely thrilled about writing about! H.E. has bestowed upon me the Glitter E. Yaynus Award! ‘Cause my ass fuckin’ glitters, or some awesome shit like that.

I have heard this award is bestowed upon people who write about themselves entirely too much. I admit that I am one of those people, because, honestly- what better thing is there to write about? You know you agree.

So. Here are the rules about this incredible butt award:

Tell people at least five things you do that would make them want to kill you, or at the very least, make them hate you for the rest of their lives.

Honestly, I didn’t really think there was any reason for people to want to kill me, but the more I thought of it, the more reason I came up with…

1. I don’t gossip (much), which pisses the People Who Gossip Off. When individuals come to me and start gossiping about a certain person they can’t stand, intent on listening to me agree with them, I just listen and then shrug. I then receive a glare from the narrowed eyes of the Gossip Person.

2. (I hate me for this one) If I have a cold, or am crying and snotting everywhere, instead of using a tissue like a normal person would, I use the end of my sleeve. Which is why I try desperately to mostly wear short sleeves- then I am forced to go get a damn Kleenex already.

3. I tweeze those little obnoxious hairs that sprout occassionally on my chin when I’m driving. (Yes, I am amazingly beautiful and all that, but you know, everyone has SOME ugly thing about them.) I maintain that I am an excellent driver that never swerves because she is executing grooming habits while driving.

4. I talk about myself alot. I’m not really sure why this would piss people off, because after all, it IS all about me, but there are always a few haters…

5. It’s all about me. The only people who want to kill me because of this are the people who want it to be all about THEM.

The next thing you have to do according to the rules is this: Blindfold yourself and walk out into traffic on the freeway.

I think one of those people who want it to be all about THEM made this rule, so I have no intention of giving them the satisfaction of getting myself smushed by a trucker named Bucky.

The third thing I am supposed to do is pick out five things that I would stick up my ass if I was forced to.

There are just so many things to choose from; how can I just pick five?!

1. Cocaine or other assorted drugs: No, I do not do narcotics, however, I hear your ass is the place you should stick ’em if you are ever travelling to a foreign country, or want  an addict digging around in your butt.

2. Anal beads: Because, you know, that’s where they’re supposed to go.

3. Beer: Because it would be funny to offer to a thirsty man a beverage that has come from my ass. (Would a man ever turn down free beer, I wonder?)

4. Candy: Because I need to maintain my sugar levels. I was going to say French Fries here, but I don’t know exactly how that would work, and the more I tried to figure it out, the more I thought, “That’s just gross.”

5. Chris Meloni’s Boner: In all honesty, no one would FORCE me to do this. I believe I AND he would find great pleasure in having this occur. My ass is ready at any time to have Chris’s Man Part shoved up it. Chris? Are you paying attention?

I am also supposed to pick 5 bloggers who I think would also like to shove things up their ass and blog about it.

This award has been handed out to many of the individuals I thought of first, so I will try to go with the ones that haven’t received it yet.

Delightfulness: I wouldn’t be a true friend if I didn’t share an ass award with you, now would I?

Brainrants: I know you secretly want to talk about shoving things up your ass. Here’s your chance. You’re welcome.

John: Because I think that you would find this award amusing.

Kana: You’re an awesome lady, Lady. Happy assing! XOXO

Breezy K: From what I’ve experienced, Canadians like to shove things up their ass. Is it because you’re kinda French up there?

 

 

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A Farewell to Elliot Stabler’s Arms


My dearest Elliot, (and your Arms)

I was quite distraught to have it brought to my attention that you and your beautiful arms will no longer be starring on Law and Order SVU. I realize this letter may seem a bit belated, but I must admit that I’ve been remiss in my duty as a devoted SVU fan and have not been watching the show in recent months due to my own self-obsession.

I must tell you that my heart felt as if it had been crushed by a thousand elephant’s asses when my beloved friend Delightful informed me that you and your arms were done for after she began watching the show to better understand my obsession with your real life persona Chris Meloni. I felt faint, and had to rest my head on the make-table at work, (which was quite unsanitary, so I had to waste time re-sanitizing it. Thanks.) How can life ever be the same if I am no longer able to adore the Catholic tattoo that graces you uber-buff bicep? I will no longer be able to fantasize your upper appendages being wrapped around my naked body in a passionate embrace, or lifting me from a burning building.

I am bereaved at the fact that I will no longer be able to yell your arms through the TV, screaming, “Just squeeze Olivia already, dammit!” and the fact I will never have had the satifaction of seeing you and she crawling out of bed mostly naked after finally giving in to the sexual tension greatly perturbs me.

No longer shall my desire be whetted by watching marathons of  newer SVU episodes that I haven’t seen a million times. While Richard Belzer’s character Munch is somewhat sexy in a twisted, highly-intelligent old man sort of way, he does not hold a candle to you, Ell. (Or your arms)

My dream of one day playing a victim that you have saved, or maybe replacing Olivia as your partner is destroyed. Where am I to go from here? My life is in ruins and I am in the depths of despair.

While your real-life persona Chris Meloni may yet impassion me by starring in big-budget movies, (or True Blood, I hear) I feel that will never compare to the intimate relationship we’ve had for the past ten, Elliot’s Arms. How could you think of making such a career choice without consulting me? Do you not know how I pine for your beefiness? Do you not know of the fire that burns in my loins at the thought of your sinewy strength? My yoga pants are dewy just writing about it.

My only hope is that you (or the producers of SVU) will come to your senses, and you will yet again grace my T.V. screen on a weekly basis. I will be waiting, bereft and inconsolable, until that time comes, Elliot and Elliot’s Arms.

With all the desire in my 5’3″ frame,

A Heartbroken Sparklebumps

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An Open Letter to Those Who Bring Happiness


Dear Maya Angelou- I appreciate you putting into poetry the words I so forcefully think in my head- “Life doesn’t frighten me, no not at all.” Even though there are times when life makes me want to crawl into a six foot hole dragging the dirt in after me. But nevermind about that.

Dear Lady Gaga- I greatly look up to you and your bizzare get-ups. I adore the fact that you don’t seem to care how scary you end up looking, and that you are still at the top of the charts while doing so. It will make it much easier for me to become famous now, because nobody will be looking at my style faux-pas; they will all be looking at you.

Dear my Incredible Auntie- When people say that we look exactly the same, I do not cringe, because I aspire to look like anyone who has fantastic kids like yours, has her own business that she enjoys immensely, and isn’t afraid to pray- “Dear Jesus, thank you for chow mein.”

Dear Audrey Hepburn- Thank you, thank you, thank you, for being beautiful and amazing and classy. You are proof that one or two failed marriages is not something to worry over, and proof that a “princess” is not just someone you can play in a movie. I am saddened that you are dead, because it would have been nice to meet you.

Dear Gramma- Despite the fact that you have grown increasingly blunt in recent years, I find it quite humorous when you truthfully tell me that my choice in hair color is “hideous.” I would like to inform you once again that as a child, my hair was blonde, and it never has, in fact, been beautifully natural black like you tell everyone it is. I think you are confusing me with my half-sister. Thank you for being always honest- even if it is in an Alzheimer’s patient kind of way.

Dear Prince (to clarify- the artist formerly known and once again known as)- I want to thank you for noticing that “all that glitters ain’t gold.” and for your funky falsetto, as it has greatly entertained me for many years. I find you to be immensely talented; however, I regret to inform you that though I would love to be a guest on one of your albums, I will not be asking you to produce my debut album. Your style is a little bit too messy for my taste. Kudos on the Under the Cherry Moon soundtrack though.

Dear H.E Ellis– Even though my Rockstar doesn’t find me worthy of marriage, I know you are out there ready to marry me whenever you turn lesbian. You are very good for my ego.  XOXO

Dear numerous candy-producing companies- Without you, I would have drifted through life without the benefit of sugar-induced energy. Thank you for providing me with Starburst, Butterfingers, Milky Ways, Laffy Taffy, Blow Pops (which also served me in my first attempts at learning how to give a blow job), 5th Avenues, etc…

Dear Jim Beam and Co.- Thank you for providing liquor strong enough to get my Rockstar jumping on the bed with his guitar. Also,  with your help, I found out he can sing just like Sinnead O’Connor. That was a little bit disturbing, but highly entertaining. It  gave me good fodder with which to tease him mercilessly.  You also induced the most amazing drunken sex I’ve ever had. Thank you again for that.

Dear Chris Meloni- Thank you for your beautiful scowl. And other beautiful parts of you.

XOXO,

Sparklebumps

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It’s Best To Be Prepared: A Friday the 13th Special


Happy Friday the 13th, my Lovelys! I hope that you make it through the day without breaking any mirrors or having black cats cross your path. Being an individual who is always properly prepared for the unexpected (OK, that’s not exactly true, but I go with the flow quite well) I decided to compose a list of bad luck things that could possibly go wrong on this Friday the 13th. (Just so I’m not surprised in any way):

1.The wives and girlfriends of my former lovers could find out  about their significant others’ indiscrections and band together to come and Get me. (A gang of Scorned Women could be utterly terrifying.)

2. A zombie apocalypse could occur before I have had the chance to properly administer a boob-squish to Chris Meloni. (That would be bad luck for us both, I think.)

3. Darth Vadar could show up, saying, “Sparklebumps… I am your father.” Therefore confirming my suspicions of bastardization.

4. The IRS could find out about my newly opened checking account and make off with my $2.31.

5. Megan Fox and/or Salma Hayek could show up at my door with the intent of robbing me of my Rockstar. (He assures me if this was to happen, he wouldn’t go along with them, because they’re not real. I don’t believe him for a second.)

6. My boss Frenchie could fire me because he has decided my bossing him around is getting old. (Or that looking at my ass is getting old.)

7. I could go to jail for trying to bribe an officer with cleavage if I happen to get pulled over  for speeding while driving to work.

8. My new friend Delightfulness could find out that I am, in fact, a psychopath, and withdraw her friendship.

9. My blog followers could finally realize that I truly have no writing talent, and desist reading; therefore making my site stats drop dramatically (which they seem to be doing anyway) and bringing me to the realization that I shall have to abandon dreams of a writing career and settle for Pizza Sluttism for good.

10. I could get home tonight and NOT have mind-blowing sex with my Rockstar. (Highly likely since I work until after he goes to bed.)

11. The Skin Man, or other assorted creepers, could find out where I work now and begin stalking me again.

12. I could somehow bang my head and end up in a coma, where I would be unable to leave my hospital bed when I could hear my friends and family that have gathered around me crunching annoyingly on snack foods, awaiting my awakening.

13. My books could catch on fire from an electrical spark coming from the cord of my vibrator while it’s charging.

14. My Rockstar’s almost-model ex-wife could hunt him down and want him back, and he could realize he is still desperately in love with her and she is not, in fact, a “stupid cunt.” (His words.)

15. I could once again, find a puddle of piss in front of the urinal at work tonight when I’m cleaning. (Highly likely, since no one admitted to being the guilty party after yesterday’s rant.)

16. I could come home to find my Rockstar wearing nothing but my undies and a pair of my sparkly heels. (When I think about it, this might not be such a bad thing…)

17. Alien life-forms could suck me up in their beam and administer an anal probe. (I might be ok with this if they look like the aliens from Signs; but if they look like the aliens from Independence Day, I shall surely die of fright. *shudder*)

18. Jon Bon Jovi could come out with another album. (We’ve already had Van Halen come out with a new single this week. That’s bad luck enough.)

19. I could hear a Taylor Swift song on the radio. Or see her on a magazine.

20. McDonald’s could decide to change their French fries.

21. I could choke on Man Juice and perish after giving my Rockstar a blow job. (Highly unlikely, but possible, I suppose.)

Good Luck to you all. XOXO

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A Letter From God


Dear Sparklebumps,

I decided to send you a letter since you are one of my Beloved Children. I don’t usually do this, but I’ve noticed you tend to keep any letters, notes, etc. that people send to you. That was one of the great ideas I thought of when I was creating you; I thought maybe you’d keep everything, so when you become famous (as I have decided you should be) you can make one of those books about your life that have all the little pull-out parts that include letters and pictures and shit. I’d like you to include My letter, so anyone who wants to read about the famous Sparklebumps realizes it was I who made you what you were.

About the picture thing- you know you’re not very photogenic. I will tell you why I decided to make it that way. I made you adorable and smart, but I figured it would be a bit much if I added photogenic, because I know you would have gotten a big head. Also, given your tendency to take nudey pictures of yourself, I figured it was probably best if your face didn’t look great in photos, that way you won’t end up in Playboy or something. I admit that Playboy is a perfect study of the wonderful female form that I created, but it’s not for you. I plan on you making your living from your wit and your way with words, (and possibly your singing voice, if you can convince your Rockstar to start a band) NOT with your semi-hot bod.

Since I brought it up- yes, I gave you big buzooms. I did that because I know you’d be able to handle the attention that comes with them gracefully. Dolly Parton is another one that I made like that; she hasn’t forgotten about Me, and I know you won’t either. I give you permission to take advantage of your boobies, after all, why else would I have given them to you? But at the same time, don’t forget it’s your brain, and not your bra size, that makes you who you are.

I want to give you props for abstaining from all the temptations I’ve sent your way lately. You know I just like to fuck with you, right? (Heh heh) You’ve done good at only doing the sex with your Rockstar , and no one else; I know how you likes the sex and all. I also sent a few hot customers your way for you to just admire from afar, because I know you like to look at pretty things.

The Rockstar thing? You’ve figured out that I made him specifically for you. He, on the other hand, is kinda being a dumbass about the whole situation. I honestly gotta say that I made the male species REALLY bird-brained. What was I thinking? Anyhoo, I’ll try to put a bug in his ear about the whole marriage thing, but he really does love you; he’s just not trusting Me enough. He thinks you might be too much woman for him, so he’s terrified to pop the question.

If you noticed, I sent you a couple new friends, (Delightful, H.E., HR, Hotspur, Brainrants, John, and Megan) They’re kind of a fucked up bunch, so I knew you’d get along with them great. Also, I made sure Delightful lived close to you so you had someone to go to that fabulous coffee shop with. If you make an effort to stay in contact with them, I’ll make sure they make an effort with you, so they don’t end up like all your other friendships.

I wanted to talk about tithing to Me. I know you’re kind of broke right now, and so I’ll let you get away without giving me any offering. You make up for it by playing beautiful piano music to honor Me, and I’m ok with that. BUT. In the future, after you have your castle, I expect 10% of your earnings. In exchange, I’ll make sure the IRS gets off your back.

I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to bless you with children. You kind of have your hands full with your Rockstar’s Daughter, and anyway- you have alot of shit to do before you become a mother. It’s up to you to get started on all that before you reach menopause. You know what They say, “God helps those who help themselves.” (For the record, that’s not in My Word; I’m not sure where it came from.)

I guess that’s about it. You know I made you one of those people that are easy to love, so get out there in the world so they can love you. (NOT in a sexual way. I guess I didn’t make that clear to your stalkers. Sorry about that.)

Your Heavenly Father,

God (or I Am)

P.S. I haven’t quite figured out how yet, but if you keep serving Me, I’ll make sure you get to boob-squish Chris Meloni someday.

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If I Was an Actress


I love movies, and I have, in my younger years, spent a great amount of time imagining what roles I would wish to play if ever I was to be an actress. Keep in mind that the following is strictly hypothetical; since I am now much too old to play many of the parts, and the other parts were already filled, creating wonderful movies for me to watch. Most of the parts I’d want to play come from books that were made into movies. (Because I’m a book freak like that.)

Juliet- from Romeo and Juliet: What better part to play than a girl who kills herself for love? I think it’s very romantic. And in the Baz Luhrman production, Claire Danes bugged the shit out of me.

Beth- from Little Women: When I was younger, I was incredibly shy (Yes, I’m quite aware how things change) and Beth was the shy sister, so I believe I could have played that part well. Technically, I DID play Beth in my high school’s version of Little Women; and I was very upset in the play version when Beth didn’t actually die in her last scene. I tried to convince the director to change the script, but to no avail. Oddly enough, this is a part Ms. Danes ALSO played in a movie. Because of my non-shyness now, however, I believe I would be able to better do justice to the part of Jo.

Lady Chatterly- from Lady Chatterly’s Lover: because she was kind of a slut.

Eustacia Vye- from Return of the Native: she was a gorgeous woman who made multiple men fall completely in love with her, and she ended up marrying one of them who promised to take her away from the life she hated, only to have him go blind before that happened. I’m quite aware that I would never have gotten cast in this part because of the whole “gorgeous” thing, so it’s good Catherine Zeta-Jones already played it.

The Joker- from Dark Knight: Yes, I’m quite aware this is a man’s part, and Heath Ledger did an excellent job (God rest his soul), but I think I could have given him a run for his money.

Rose- from Titanic: Who WOULDN’T want to be part of the biggest movie of the century? I think Kate Winslet was ravishing as Rose; however it is my own opinion that Leonardo Dicaprio  should have been the one nominated for the Oscar.

Marianne Dashwood- from Sense and Sensibility: A woman in love with love. A woman after my own heart. Also played by Kate Winslet.

Marilyn Monroe- in an Marilyn movies: there are many to choose from, unfortuneately, it seems they are all being made BEFORE I am discovered.

Lisa- from Girl Interrupted: Don’t get me wrong. Angelina was awesome in this movie. (Yes, I am biased) But I could have been too.

Rain ManHere is my question? Why do actors and actresses always win Oscars for playing crazy or retarded parts? I honestly think these would be the easiest parts to play. (Perhaps that is because for me, it wouldn’t really be acting…)

Tina Turner- from What’s Love Got To Do With It?: I am not black, and I do not think a white girl in black face would have had the same affect.

Blanche Dubois- from A Streetcar Named Desire: I pretend to be a high-class lady all the time.

Becky Bloomwood- from Confessions of A Shopoholic: this movie is about my life.

Mallory Knox- from Natural Born Killers: again- playing a crazy woman would be a breeze.

Cruella De Ville- because she’s awesome.

Mary Poppins- she, also, was awesome. And kinda mean.

Randle McMurphy- from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest: because he was frickin’ hilarious. I suppose when I think about it, I could have played Nurse Ratched instead…

Anything featuring Chris Meloni- I would even do it for free just to be near him.

So there you have it, my Lovelys. My film career if I had ever had one.

 

 

 

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Sparklebump’s ABC’s


A is for Attitude, some say I have it;

To them I shall say, “Suck my armpit.”

B is for Books, full of beautiful stories,

and also for Boners, I always want more-ies.

C is for Chris- hot Chris Meloni;

DDD is the size of my magnificent boobies.

E is for Eric, also known as Rockstar,

I likes him  best when his Boner is hard.

F is for Fuck, the most versatile word,

as in dumb Fuck- a noun; Fuck me- a verb.

G is for Grumpy, that’s me in the morning,

H is for Heels, and also for Horny.

I is intelligent, (in other words: me)

J is for substantial and sparkly Jew-el-r-y.

K is for Kisses, the French kind are best,

L is for Love, what men feel for my chest.

M is a Mustang, I’ll have one someday,

and also for Music my Rockstar will play.

N is for Nothing- there’s Nothing for N,

but has got Orgasm; Orgasm’s my friend.

P is for…. Pizza Slut, which is a job that I do;

(You were thinking Penis and Pussy, but I sure fooled you!)

Q is for Quirky, I’ve been told I am such;

R is my Rockstar whom I love so much!

S is for Sparkles, and Shoes, and also for Sex,

my three favorite things all begin with an S.

T is Thesaurus, my favorite book,

if you want to be smarter, you should come take a look.

U is for Undies, I wear some of the time,

but I like life best with a naked behind.

V is for Vittles, I DO so love to eat;

French Fries, and candy, but please, Sir, no meat.

I like to drink too; so…. let me just see,

WWW…. I’ve got it! Whiskey!!!!

X is a toughy; nothing starts with X!

except X-rated movies that have lotsa sex.

Y is for Yes- what you always should say,

because I hate to hear No; I want things MY way.

That leaves us with Z, the very last one.

A trip to Zimbabwe! Now wouldn’t THAT be fun?

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A Life Not Lived


So you probably all know by now that I was married once upon a time a couple years ago. Throughout the duration of my marriage, I devised a plan of what I would do if I was not married. (that may give you a clue as to how unhappy I was). Anyhoo, my plan actually became known as my Divorce Plan. (in the off chance that I was to get divorced.) Little did I know a guy known as Rockstar was going to come along and derail my little plan. Here is the extent of the life I would have perhaps had if my Divorce Plan had been executed as expected:

As soon as my divorce papers were final, I planned on selling every item I owned (I hadn’t decided about the books yet) taking the money I accrued and making my way to Las Vegas. I thought, “Hey. I’ve been a waitress before. I bet tips would be great in Vegas.” I planned on getting a job as a cocktail waitress at the Venetian, because they had the most fabulous uniforms. (Poofy skirts and heels) If I was unlucky enough to not land a job at this grand hotel/casino, the Flamingo was my backup. (Because it’s pink.)

In my mind, I always prepare for the worst. And so, I had resigned myself to working at the Bunny Ranch as a hooker (I KNOW I would make good money there…) when I couldn’t land a job at the casinos of my choice. After making millions, (or at least hundreds of thousands) off of my stellar pussy techniques, I was going to move to New York and become a writer, making even more money off of my memoir entitled simply Whore. It would then have been turned into a movie or a mini-series (Showtime, not HBO) in which I would have played myself, (because no one could play me as good as I) and I would have won an Emmy, or an Oscar for my performance. (Because my lifetime of pathological lying has made my acting quite superb)

I would then land a recurring role on Law and Order SVU as Stabler’s new partner.(because Mariska decided to have another baby and stay home) My character would be able to banter wittily with Richard Belzar’s Munch character, and her utter little-girl-lost personality would compel Stabler to divorce his wife and marry my character because of his macho I-must-save-you personality.

After filming SVU every day, I would give Chris Meloni a booby squish goodbye, and then go sit by the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park. I would watch all the interesting people walking by, and make up stories about them in my head, until one day a very handsome man, (or a very beautiful woman) came and sat next to me, and asked what I was doing.

We would immediately feel a spark, and never leave each other’s side. The royalties from my books and acting career would be enough that I would then buy a castle in Ireland, (complete with a library and one of those rolly-ladder thingys on which I would swing about and burst into song) where my beloved (him or her) and I would live happily ever after, procreating (or adopting) 5 boys,  and accruing 3 mastiffs and a Ford Mustang. And a goat.

(Chris Meloni would be devestated when I quit the show.)

I guess all that seems a little bit too dramatic. I guess I’ll stay here and have sex with my Rockstar…

 

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Dear Kevin Bacon…


Dear Kevin Bacon,

I would like to take this moment to congratulate you on your inconceivable awesomeness.

Any man who can have a last name that is the same as the world’s most loved breakfast meat and still maintain his utter coolness is a god.

Also, your absolute grotness (hotness with a bit of gross) despite the fact that you have a skeletal face is quite admirable.

I myself cannot name that evasive quality you possess that makes my knees go weak when I watch your movies. Is it the fact that I spent hours upon hours as a child watching you being Footloose and fancy-free? I believe that may have had something to do with it. The fact that you posed as a teenager successfully when you were 26 is quite commendable, too.

I applaud you for your total and unadulterated creepiness in such movies as Trapped, Hollow Man, Sleepers, and…. OK, nevermind; there are too many to name. Let us just say that your film career has landed you in my top 5 list of most creepy actors of all time. This has me wondering if, in fact, you are naturally creepy, and are just using the… gift God has given you? No matter- your disturbing demeanor in no way would deter me from stripping in your presence and jumping your bones. I am proud to annonce that you shall be the first man I think of when I write my first screenplay about a serial killer/rapist/transvestite clown.

Kudos to you, for landing that hot Kyra Sedgewick lady as your wife. She is much more beautiful than you, and I am quite sure people look at you two walking down the street and think, “He must have a giant penis”. (Congrats on that.) I also must compliment you on directing her in the movie Loverboy, which made me acutely aware of the fact that I should NOT procreate; as I would exhibit all the same tendencies as the mother in that movie.

I believe you were appropriately cast as the man Jennifer Aniston engaged in “sex, the really dirty kind” with in Picture Perfect. As I have mentioned, it is very easy to imagine you are the kind of guy who likes to do girls up the butt. (I can imagine you administering a Golden Shower too, for some reason.)

In closing, I would like to ask you a favor. Because of the six degrees of you, Kevin Bacon, I have a pretty good idea that you may be able to hook me up with Christopher Meloni. I would be willing to trade one boob squish for one Chris Meloni. I think that’s quite a fair deal. Thank you.

XOXO,

Sparklebumps

 

P.S. Please don’t change the way you are. Your creepiness is perfect on you.

 

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