A Girl Without a Rocker

I may have mentioned that my Rockstar is from South Dakota, land of…… flatness? I’m not really sure exactly what South Dakota is known for, other than that ridiculous wolf movie starring the equally ridiculous Kevin Costner. (To be clear, the movie was only high in it’s ridiculousness factor because of that silly Kevin person.)

Anyhoo, it has been some fifteen-odd years since my Rockstar decided to uproot himself from the land of buffalo and HyVees and move on over a state to the slightly-less-boring Minnesota. According to him, my great state has only gone downhill since then, though he can hardly argue his reasoning why.

‘Tis true our urban road systems are a bit tricky, what with all the one way streets in downtown Minneapolis and all, but who can argue with a Minnesotan, who possesses that certain “Minnesota nice” quality? To be fair, I think there are quite a lot of dumbshits that live here, but as I have not lived anywhere else, I cannot comment on the asshat ratios between here and there.

My Rockstar and I were watching The Big C last night, which is set in Minnesota. (though for some silly reason is filmed in Connecticut). He commented again on the supposed silliness of Minnesotans, and how the show was correctly written, since (according to him) all of us are off our rockers.

At first, I was intending on taking offense, but upon further reflection, decided I was not one to argue against him, as I myself will admit that I am not completely of the sane nature. I did, however, question him to see if he was including me in his statement.

“Do  you think I am off my rocker?” I asked coquettishly, batting my eyelashes.

Since we were lying in bed in the dark, my lashes were of little concern to him. There was a manly Rockstar giggle before he responded.

“I don’t think you ever found your rocker.”

The man has never spoken truer words.

 

 

Unfortunately, Kevin Costner

My Dearest Sparklebumps,

I wanted to write this letter to apologize for the irkedness and offense I’ve cause you throughout the years.

I cannot think of what has made you detest me so. I’ve given great thought to it, and there was only a few reasons I could come up with.

First of all, I would like to seek forgiveness for Waterworld. There was really no excuse for that. I would just like to point out that I got swept up in the idea of starring in the most expensive movie of the times. Let me repeat, I’m so sorry.

I have come to realize that my less-than-outstanding acting ability may have something to do with your displeasure with me. I agree that it is totally reprehensible of me to continue accepting starring roles that will further alienate you from me. I didn’t think I did too badly portraying John Dunbar in Dances With Wolves, and trust me, I was disappointed in the choice of actress they used for my love interest, as well. It is true, my performance in Dragonfly was mediocre at best, and the only thing that saved me was the screenplay writer. I should know better by now to turn down any more western roles, but, Sparkle, I keep accepting those roles because I want to play a badass- it’s no use. My weenie-dom seeps through.

I understand how tiresome it is to continuously hear of my utter gorgeousness. You know how your Auntie gets whenever I come onscreen. There is a multitude of other women (and I’m sure men) who are brainwashed into thinking I am much more beautiful than I am. (including me) You know as well as I that just because millions of people say you’re pretty, that doesn’t make it so. I try as hard as I can to convince them I AM, in fact, sexually appealing, but unlike They said in Field of Dreams– if you build it, they will come- I know within my heart that, despite my best efforts, I will never make YOU come. Your blatant revulsion of me is palpable. Though there are thousands of miles between us, I feel the shudders of your abhorrence every time you realize I’m coming out with a new movie like a slap in the face.

I hope you can understand that my venture as a restauranteur was to satiate my egotistical tendencies. Opening a bar and grill in Deadwood and then filling it with movie memorabilia from only my own movies was indeed pompous and narcissicistic, but you must remember, my fans like it, even if I DO suck balls.

I will end my letter by urging you to reconsider accepting any future acting rolls you may be offered where you would costar with me. I know that my hideous acting would be distracting, but you must remember, everyone would be looking at you anyway.

Unfortunately,

Kevin Costner