The Louise Blanford Diaries
Dear Diary,
     Why does the press interview bitter ugly people?  This morning while I was doing pilates and watching one of the morning programs, they had some chubby, unattractive woman on from some group called Concerned Americans for something or other.  I think her name was Beatrice Sestus or Sinus or Sepsis or Clark or something.  Anyway, she is clearly over fifty and needs
A LOT of work.  She kept saying how immoral Hollywood is, blah, blah, blah.  What really annoyed me about her was that she said that Hollywood should stop showing "morally bankrupt whores like Louise Blanford" all the time.  I know what this is really about.  It's about the fat, lizard-faced girl who is jealous of the pretty girl getting all the attention.  Come on.  America isn't going to pay to see her beady eyes and scaly skin blown up 35 feet--unless she's playing a monster in some straight-to-video production starring C. Thomas Howell and Ally Sheedy.  Maybe she should rename her group Concerned Americans for Reptilian Skin Problems.  If they ever do a Jurassic Park IV, she could save them money on CGI effects by playing an extra.
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Dear Diary,
     Marilyn and I appeared at a fundraiser for the Red Cross today (I'm glad it was for hurricane relief and that nobody wanted any blood because Louise Blanford needs all she has so that she won't appear pale on camera).  Anyway, they kept telling me I was going to meet the First Lady, which waas strange because I couldn't find Hillary Clinton anywhere.  All of a sudden, this short, fat woman in paisley (!) was deposited in front of me.  They said her name was "Laura Bush" or something.  She had quite an attitude.  All I did was ask her if she was married to the George Bush from television, and she got huffy.  How is someone like Louise Blanford supposed to keep track of all these television personalities?  I mean really, Louise Blanford can't be expected to know each and every person who plays someone's father on those WB teen drams.  And how can this George Bush guy be President?  I was at a party with Bill Clinton a few weeks ago and people kept calling him "Mr. President."  This Laura Bush lady should dump the guy from the WB and pick someone a little closer to the A-List.  I even told her that.  Plus, I told her that violet made her look puffy.  She got mad at me and these men in black suits took her to another side of the room.  You can't blame Louise Blanford just because you married some ugly B-Lister who can't afford to get you a nutritionist and a personal trainer.
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Dear Diary,
     You know, I truly like being seen at Musso & Frank, but I won't go back there anytime soon.  Sure, it's a Hollywood landmark (whatever that means), but they let anybody in there these days.  ANYBODY.  Anyway, Julia Roberts and I had just been seated, and even before the waiter came to take our lunch order, I was forced to deal with the most awkward situation.  Somehow, Kate Capshaw was in the restaurant near our table (!), and she slithered over and started verbally assaulting me for allegedly saying she was lucky that Crustacean allowed nobodys to eat there.  (Okay, I did really say she was a nobody at Crustacean last night, but only because she was there.  Hey, and Marilyn even agreed with me, so it's not like I made it up.  Alright, I also said she was a List-leech, and that nobody in this town would talk to her if Steven Speilberg wasn't her husband.  Marilyn did say this was going a bit too far, but she didn't say it was untrue.  Hey, that's what she gets for being C-List.)  So, I quietly waited for a pause in her babbling, and I looked over at Julia and said, "Gee, the stalkers are out in force today.  And I thought
Single White Female was just a movie!"  At that point, she began screeching, and Marilyn's security people "escorted" her out of the restaurant.  I decided not to press charges.  I mean, that would only be a way for her to leech-off my List.  I was kind of mad, though.  The whole purpose of that lunch was to comment on Julia's pregnancy weight, and I couldn't do it because I needed her on my side.  Maybe I'll call Liz Smith and tell her that Sylvester Stallone's eye bags are back.
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Dear Diary,
     Oh, I met the rudest woman the other day!  I was on Bill Maher's show with Tim Robbins and Maria Shriver when he interrupted all of us to talk via satellite to some ugly woman with a huge beak and terrible split ends.  (Confidentially, I was sort of happy because it gave Bill Maher something else to focus on other than Louise Blanford's breasts.  Not that Louise Blanford doesn't like being admired by men, but when she is a guest on your show, she expects you to make eye contact.)  What was her name again?  I remember it was kind of gross.  Ann Cooter or something.  Anyway, she started attacking Louise Blanford just because I said I was more famous and more popular than that President Bush from television.  I mean, really.  Only half the people voted for this George W. Bush from television, but EVERYONE loves Louise Blanford.  Do his films gross over $200 million domestic?  I don't think so.  Luckily, Tim Robbins was a gentleman, and told this rude skeleton with a lisp that Louise Blanford is indeed more popular than the President, that she'd probably do a better job as leader of the free world than George W. Bush. The audience applauded, so obviously they agreed.  But the nerve of this Cooter woman!  I mean, who is she?  Tim told me after the show that she's famous for hanging out with the Bush people and writing books about how great he is.  What kind of fame is that?  Basically, she's a glorified agent!  Not even an agent, a publicist!  No agent or publicist, especially with clients who are only ever seen on television like George W. Bush, gets to speak to Louise Blanford like that.  And come on!  That name!  It's bad enough that they interview her and she's an agent who isn't pretty.  At least have a name that doesn't refer to your private parts.  What an awful woman.  I told Bill that if he ever wants Louise Blanford on his show again, that he better make sure that this bitchy vulture with the stringy hair isn't on.
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