Dear Readers,

I know we just went through this but this time I'm for realzies ending this blog.

I could continue to go on about what a creep Dustin Diamond was on Celebrity Fit Club ( I am ashamed to admit I watched it this weekend), or how disgusting it is that OJ Simpson still gets any media attention ( he is rumored to be contemplating suicide, wonder why) or that new sad excuse for an NBC show Age of Love ( I thought I could handle any reality ridiculousness but after the "cougars" were pitted against "the kittens" I had to shut it off) but really though, I think we all get it and frankly I am sick of talking about it day after day.

A big thanks to all of you who've enjoyed Dear Douchebag for the past year. Hopefully this summer a new annyoingly over-used insult word will sweep the nation and take the place of douchebag. I assume if any word were to take the place of douchebag it'll have to involve the word bag like douche bag, dirt bag, sleaze bag, ho bag. Perhaps colostomy bag will take the cake?

"Dude, you are such a c-bag for spilling Bacardi Limon all over my Camaro!"

Who knows.

What I do know is you can read stuff from me every other week at The HuffingtonPost.com and starting in late August I'll be writing for Lifetimetv.com. And if you're in major Giulia withdrawl check out giuliarozzi.com for updates on other writing thingys in the works plus live show dates and videos. Also stay tuned for my newest work in progress web project themessage-board.com.

Be nice.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Meme Roth,

So sorry I am late writing to you, I was too busy shoving a slice of fried fat down my throat and crying over my enormous size eight bod. Don't fret Meme, I am on a diet. A shit diet. I am cutting back on my servings of shitty "news" featuring shitty topics of discussion with shitty "experts." After a large over-dose of entertainment "news" during my vaction last month I needed a bit of trash TV detox.

Due to my diet I missed this absurd bit of banter.



Roth you make me wanna ralph. Jordin Sparks is a bad obese role model because she has an "addiction to soda pop"?!

First of all obese is like big, too big not curvy, full and gorgeous. Secondly how do you know she's even addicted to soda pop? And who refers to soda as soda pop anymore? Lastly, isn't an addiction to soda pop better than the addictions some other pop starlets seem to have like addictions to drugs or addictions to alcohol or addictions to flashing thier cooters?

Yes, obesity is indeed a problem in America. So is ignorance.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Friends,

In lieu of a letter I am sending you off to read something neato that I wrote at http://www.huffingtonpost.com and something super cool I posted at http://www.youtube.com. Enjoy!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Sopranos and/or anti-Sopranos groups,

I have The Sopranos finale and second to last episode DVR'd but can't get to it till Friday and it's hell avoiding Yahoo entertainment headlines and other pop culture news. Thus my avoidance of such gossip is greatly going to affect my blog posts this week. I mean I am sure the Sopranos buzz with die, but I am so damn scared that somehow, someone is going to blow it for me or rather my compulsive clicks will blow it for myself.

While we are on the topic, I'd like to take this time to discuss the intense likeness of my family to the Soprano family minus the crime of course, unless being adorable is a crime. (Yeah I did just say that).

We are quite like them.

I mean my mom doesn't wear velour jumpsuits and get manicures (oh how I wish she did). She much prefers my sisters old Z Cavarechi pants paired with my old "Unbutton Your Fly" t-shirt as her housewife-ing uniform.

My dad doesn't splurge on lavish steak dinners and Glenn Levit (oh how I wish he did). He can satisfy his taste buds quite nicely by filling up on treats served at Bank Openings and Hardware store hotdog bbq's. Toss him a can of Miller high life he's all set.

We don't have anyone in the family with Paulie's skunk hair (oh how I really really really wish we did). My parents did however force a painfully ambiguous bowl-cut on my poor sister from ages 2-13 despite her pleas to please, please let her grow a more girly cut. (My parents still will not disclose their reasoning for making their first-born daughter look their first-born son. Instead they do a denial song and dance when looking at old photos of my sister saying "Ha! She sure looked like a boy, huh? Why is that?")

So no, my family doesn't have all that badass stuff that makes the Sopranos so sexy but they do have the attitude.

Back when Italian organizations were stomping their feet over the unfair and wrong portrayal of Italian-Americans on TV and film (namely the Sopranos) I was dumbfounded. The NIAF was upset claiming that an overwhelming 73 percent (of entertainment outlets) portray Italians in a negative light as boors, bigots, or gangsters, but it’s not negative its pretty damn right on. (Again minus the gangster/crime thing).

Perhaps boor (a person with rude, clumsy manners and little refinement- I had to Google it) and bigot are harsh. Perhaps it doesn't pertain to ALL Italians but from what I've seen (and as a first-generation Ital I've seen lots) the boor part makes sense. I mean my dad screamed "Slow down!" to my sister as she read her beautiful speech at my wedding. The room was silent, people were tearing up, my heart was beaming, the moment was gorgeous only to be interrupted by a loud, half-kidding, half-thinking he was being truly helpful, roar.

Now while my daddy is a successful, intelligent, very funny bright man he is also as Italian media has said, rude with clumsy manners, little refinemnet plus a lil' wonky on the social skills with a dash of unfiltered almost turrets-like bluntness. Therefore based on one person, it my conslusion that the boor stereo-type is true. (Whoa, I guess I am a bigot and boor as well).

And it's not just limited to my culture as we've all been witness to what is preserved as painfully rude behaviors from foreigners. Between the language barriers (or "pretend language barriers" as my folks are still playing the " I no understand" card after 30+ years in America) and the sense of immigrant entitlement (a whole other topic to explore in a later piece/post I am sure) old school peeps from other countries can be a bit or a boor. (Perhaps this where Sasha Baron Cohen got the name for Bor-at? No? Anyone?) And I certainly don't mean boor as in bore because while my immigrant folks (and perhaps your parents or grandparents as well) can be quite shocking and unknowingly foot-in-mouth, they are always interesting (and I already said adorable, right?)

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Superior Court Judge Michael T. Sauer,

Is it just me or isn't it weird that you and Sheriff Lee Baca didn't, I dunno talk about whether or not Paris Hilton should leave or stay in jail? As annoying as Paris can be, nobody deserves to be teased with jailtime. It's almost as bad as when I tell my dude that I want Thai food for dinner, then as we approach the restaurant I decide I want pizza. Then as soon as we get to the Pizza place, I demand Thai food again. Sorry Sauer and Baca, put Paris is not a plate of Pad See Ew that you can just toy with (oh but I wish she were, I do love Pad See Ew so very much).

I feel like the only reason why Paris was released and then re-arrested was so that the paparazzi could get photos of her in handcuffs. Paris's first trip to the slammer was done early in the morn to avoid hundreds of cameras snapping ( other than the one from TMZ). Arresting Paris in the middle of the day today allowed ample opportunity to get good video/photos of the gal. It's all very sick. It's all very dumb. It's inda mean. And as much as everyone is sick of Paris Hilton, it's all our fault. I mean if we don't buy the tabloids or watch Hard Copy's expose on Paris's most recent shopping escapade, then the media will cut back if we cut back. Supply and demand, and America demands trash.

But I think the real issue here is yesterday's episode of the Simple Life. I watched 4 minutes of it while at my favorite garbage viewing spot-the gym. In those 4 minutes I watched as E! placed Paris and Nicole as camp counselors for a group of overweight teens. As the teens exited the bus to camp, hilarious soun effects indicating the heaviness of these kids joyfully tickled our ears (classy stuff). Then Paris and Nicole were suppose to teach these kids about good nutrition and positive body image. Nicole Richie was suppose to teach teens about good nutrition and positive body image.

I almost miss Tyra Banks.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Loves,

I'll be writing weekly pieces for the Huffingtonpost.com blog. Check out my debut ditty about spelling and stupidity at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/giulia-rozzi/the-word-is-querulousness_b_51181.html. Enjoy!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Poison,

Oh no, oh no, no, no! You've become a cover band? My favorite band in 6th grade? The stars of my first sexual fantasy (minus Bobby, sorry I just wasn't that into brunette headbangers at age 12)? My hard rockin', ass kickin', hot pink lipstick wearin' hair band lovers are doing renditions of "Just What I Needed" and "Little Willy"???

It's bad enough that Bret Michaels is starring ina new reality show to find true love, now you and the boys have released a collection of cover tunes cleverly titled Poison'd.

I mean who am I to judge what rockstars should do once they get past age 45? I mean Aerosmith and The Rolling Stones still manage to rock, why not Poison?

Oh wait, perhaps it's because Aerosmith and The Rolling Stones are playing their own music! You boys have become a wedding band! Perhaps you could do a Poison'd cover of "Hot, Hot, Hot" or "The Chicken Dance"?

Clearly this letter has probably put our MySpace friendship at risk. I totally understand if you want to delete me as a friend. But please, understand I write to you as a friend. I am not sure why no one else has told you this yet but you can do better! Or you could also do other! I mean CC kicked some reality ass in those Surreal Life competitions. And Rikki's a pretty awesome artist. You have had long, wonderful careers. You have relationships, families, friends. You have money ( I hope). You have history. You have rocked. You've created good music. You've done so much, but covers are certainly not "What I Like About You."



Love Always,
Giulia

Dear TV "News",

On my week-long trip to paradise I tried my darnest not to watch TV during my vacation but alas the large flat screen LG TV in my hotel room got the best of me. The gorgeous beaches and blazing sun of Maui (yes I was in Hawaii where I met ZERO douchebags! Honest to God, the people of Hawaii are without one ounce of douchedome in their richly tanned souls) should have lured me away from you Nancy Graces, Showbiz Tonight's and you other obnoxiously flashy hard hitting journalistic programs. But between you and me I can only take so much beach bumming. Due to jet-lag and whatnot I was up daily at 6am, so at about 1pm daily I'd retire to my king-sized bed for a half-nap (half asleep, half awake, fully watching shitty television.)

As soon as the TV went on, your "news" shows started pouring out the pop poop- Lindsay is a drunk, Paris is going to jail, Brittney broke down, young Hollywood is outta control and the paparazzi/media is to blame. Fine, but aren't you paparazzi/media? Aren't your news shows supporting the paparazzi when you repeatedly, every hour on the hour show pics of Lohan plopped over in her car, mouth open, with a logo credit to TMZ in the corner?

Then come the experts. Everybody in the whole fucking world has an opinion on if Brit is a fit mother or if Club Le Deux (the club where Linds passed out) should loose its liquor licence (one frumpy lady actually squawked "Le Deux? More like Le Don't!" thanks chode.) You waste hours of airtime discussing the antics of celebs with self-proclaimed experts. Warning messages from the randomest of randomers are doled out like Halloween candy (that Regan-daughter chick offered Lindsay some advice about rehab or whatever). Everyone is pissing their autortative pants over the loss of young and famous innocence yet all over the country, off the Sunset Strip are thousands of kids doing worse, falling worse, with a lot fewer people to care for them. What about them? Whose going to "save" them?

I realize writing about this shit just contradicts my plea that you and everyone please just shut-up about this shit. But really enough about these people and their problems. They fucked up, they'll fix it, move on.

I did however thoroughly enjoy Sarah Silverman's "painting the jail bars like penis's" joke on the Mtv Movie Awards last night. Even though a little part of me felt bad for Paris, being the butt of a joke on the eve of her sentence start.

Then again, the girl can afford a driver so I cannot comprehend why in the world she keeps driving drunk. I have asshole friends who have driven drunk but it's only because they are penny-less shlubs that can't afford cabs.

Oh how I wish I wanted to just live in a van alongside the Pacific,selling carved coconut bird feeders where the only paparazzi are tourists flashing their Nikon's at each other, but I just love douchey drama too much.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Readers,

I love you all so much that I am going on vacation so that when I return relaxed and rejuvenated, my posts will be even more magical than before! So hang tight and please check back here June 7.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Dr. Officer Baldwin, ( letter #8)

Well, our time has come to an end. Well almost. I mean there’s still tonight’s post-show recap extravaganza which is sure to include many questions, vague answers and of course admittance of “hearts on sleeves” and “putting of ones self out there.”

But the suspense is over. Americans are no longer at the edge of their seats aching to know who Dr. Officer Andrew Baldwin has made into an honest woman.

What’s that? Americans weren’t on the edge of their seats? Most of America didn’t even know this show was still on?

Oh.

Well fine I was on the edge of my seat. Not so much because I was anxiously awaiting whom would be the future Mrs. Dr. Officer Baldwin (no that surprise was destroyed while reading a Bachelor message board spoiler post). I was on the edge of my seat so I could easily run to the toilet should I have to puke as tearfully you said “I love you” to both Bevin and Tessa before sending Bev’s back to wallow in her “it never works out for me!” mantra.




It was as if you only told Bevin you loved her because you thought Tessa didn’t love you. Then later when Tessa said she loved you were like “Bevin what? Make you think you can fuck with me. Bevin who? Recognize girl, An to the dy”

Look Andy, lots of us have been there. We pick suitor #2 for fear we can’t get suitor #1. The only difference is normally this occurs in high school when choosing betwixt two dates for the big dance. You end up having to have to lie to suitor #2 saying that you “have to wash my hair” so you can really go to the dance with suitor #1. Then in an act of bravery, suitor #2 ends up at the dance alone catching you with suitor #1 which prompts him/her to recite a big speech about honesty and love. This all of course is then followed by a big dance sequence. Suitor #2’s impeccable dance moves cause you to fall head over heels for suitor #2 but unfortunately by this point suitor #2 has found true love with another student. They ride off into the sunset in suitor #2’s unexpected convertible blasting a “Huey Lewis and the News” tune of some sort.

But when you pull this shit on TV you look like a big ol’ piece of turd with sparkling white teeth.

Of course this was not the grossest thing to occur on last night’s season finale of The Bachelor. Oh no. The grossest thing was a Tessa and Andy montage. And not just any montage, but a montage set to the elevator muzak version of “Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong.”



Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Scott Strapp,

First you get it on in Kid Rock's sex tape now you are getting arrested for domestic abuse? Way to rock it Christian style huh? I guess instead of "arms wide open" you've got your "hands wide open" to back slap your lady. Oh and you got "groupies wide open" so you can do it with them on tape. Get it? Oh, oh, oh and now we've got a can of worms wide open, and those worms are me word playing your lame song titles.

Don't worry, I didn't understand that last sentence either.

In a nutshell Scotty, all your Jesus rock ain't gonna save you from going to hell. And all your songs sound alike. And just cause you like to wear "wife beaters" doesn't mean you actually have to go beat you wife/girlfriend/female companion. And you do a poor impression of Eddie Vedder.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear People who Clearly do NOT want to Save Dafur,

I was walking near South Station in Boston this week where a group of peaceful folks handed out postcards asking citizens to sign the petition to urge Fidelity and other investment institutions to stop investing in genocide. They were not pushy at all. They did not want to talk, they just wanted us to take a nice little postcard with the photo of a broken, sad child on it. They smiled and stayed unobtrusive.

Within inches of said peaceful folks were promo peeps wearing loud t-shirts forcing samples of Orbitz into the hands of passer-bys. They were aggressive and stupid.

I heard quite a few people rudely tell the nice Darfur activists "no thanks" or " I don't have time" as they eagerly accepted and made "time" for multiple packs of the new "Mint Mojito" chewing gum.

I know Orbitz claims its "For A Good Clean Feeling, No Matter What" but will gum really make one feel good and clean when they are a dumb ignorant asshole?

Well, I guess fresh breath is simply more important than humanity.

Love Always,
Giulia


ps. Visit www.savedarfur.org. I'll admit I didn't know much about this Darfur stuff until now but once you read about it, you'll care. I hope you'll care. You'd better care or I'll spit my free gum at you!

Dear Willard Scott,

I think it may be time to retire your role as the host of the 100th birthday centenarian salutes segment of the Today Show. I dunno, I just felt sorta uncomfortable this morning when you wished an 101 year old woman a Happy Birthday mentioning "she likes to stay active" followed by a birthday wish to a 103 year old man saying "he likes to bowl, maybe the two of them should get together and you know score!"


Then they cut back to Meredith Viera. She said "thanks Willard!" to which you replied "huh?"

Oh you wacky loveable inappropiate oaf, you...

Love Always.
Giulia

Dear Dr. Officer Baldwin, ( letter # 7)

Oh good Lord, will this show fucking end already? I know nobody is forcing me to watch but just like the Tyra Banks show, Entertainment Tonight and most if not all of the programming on VH1 I have to, HAVE TO be a witness to the doody that is pooped out of America's asses.

Now even though I have been watching the Bachelor since season one when the dolphin-like Alex Michal pretended to be into girls, I still will never, ever understand why anyone would ever partake in this over-produced pile of vomit. Yet year after year after year ABC manages to dig up dozens of desperate, wedding-hungry, “heart on their sleeve” wearing women who happen to own countless evening gowns (really where do these girls get all these dresses for every rose ceremony?) and guys with the whitest, shiniest teeth and the poorest, cheesiest acting skills to come on national television and force themselves into falling in love. And without fail, year after year after year, these women (most at least) “fall in love” with Mr. Crest White Strips. I mean love? LOVE? Like the way I love it when someone farts in the bathroom at work cause they think they are in there alone and then they come out and see me and try to make awkward conversation about the new scented rose soap. Cause that kind of love could logically be developed on a game show but no and somehow every season these bridal hopefuls pee-pee their panties with what they think is true, television developed love.

Oh sorry Andy, I forgot I was writing to you for a sec. Last night was a hard night for you. I mean really hard. It was so hard to spend three nights in Hawaii with three different ladies. It was so hard you had to take off your shirt and go swimming then you had to take off your shirt and go jogging then you had to just take off your shirt cause shirts cause confusion when deciding who to make your “wife.”

In the end it was Danielle whose heart you decided to break.
How could you Andy? Didn’t you hear her boyfriend died in college!? I mean for Christ’s sake she told you like 100 times that she has had a lot of loss in her life with her boyfriend dying in college! I mean her boyfriend died in college. What part of her repeating it over and over and over and over and over again in an attempt to play to wounded dove card did you not understand? I mean even after Danielle told you that she saw a psychic before coming on the show who specifically said that she would marry the third guy she seriously dated! First was the boyfriend that passed away, then another dude, then you. Yes Andy, Danielle considered getting CAST on a REALITY TV SHOW seriously dating. This was real serious. I mean its all on tape. And a psychic said so!

You got teary eyed as Danielle drove off but quickly cheered up when toasting with Bevin and Tessa. I’m not sure why you didn’t even suggest a threesome at this point. I mean both women clearly indicated they’d do anything for a rose. ANYTHING. But being the gentlemen, as in Office and a Gentlemen that you are you simply gave them each a squeeze and then probably retired to your room to jerk off while watching footage of all the contestants crying over you on their limo rides home.

The show ended with a dozen or so voice-overs of Chris Harrison saying variations on the line “watch next week as one woman’s dream of marrying an officer and gentleman comes true while one woman’s dream of marrying an officer and gentleman is crushed on ABC’s The Bachelor, Officer and a Gentleman.”

I miss Flavor of Love.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Dr. Officer Baldwin, ( letter #6)

I'll keep this brief cause I really am starting to not care. I mean I never reall cared but like I really don't care.

Tonight , in what was advertised as "the MOST EMOTIONAL hometown dates EVER" you visited the hometowns of Bevin, Danielle, Tessa, and Amber.

Oddly enough Amber's parents weren't into the whole "competing for a husband on national television and risking getting shamed and heartbroken in front of all of America." That's weird huh?

Then in what was advertised as "the MOST DRAMATIC rose ceremony EVER!" with kinda sorta tears in your eyes, you gave Amber the boot.

It's so hard being the Bachelor. So, very very hard.



At least her folks can not say "I told you so" before what is being advertised as "the MOST INTENSE rose ceremony EVER!"

Oh well, let's booze!



Love Always,
The MOST UNINTERESTED AND ANNOYED yet GROSSLY ADDICTED viewer EVER!
Giulia

Dear Giulia,

You are not a douche cause you made fun of someone's style on Gawker's Looking at the Look Book.
You are a talented little asshole who in the name of "good fun" may or may not make people cry sometimes.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear George Bush,

You were quoted in today's Metro as saying "This (pulling troops out of Iraq) is a perscription for chaos and confusion and we must not impose it on our troops."

Right, because the "chaos and confusion" of going home safely to their familes is waaaay more damaging to the troops compared to the "chaos and confusion" of killing and being killed.

Oh you!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Dr. Officer Baldwin, ( letter #5)

Ahoy Dr. Officer! Quite a nice date on your yacht last night huh? Yup your yacht. YOU decided to invite the ladies on YOUR yacht. The same yacht that last week you admitted to one of the girls was not really yours.



While on that yacht Bevin stole you away for some kayaking. You too canoodled while the others pouted. Later Bevin pouted when you talked to others.
What drama!

Bevin cried and told all of America "I'm 28! I'm too old to be dating someone who is dating other women, it's embarrassing!" You know what else is embarrassing? Being on the Bachelor and acting like the fact that the Bachelor is dating other women while on The Bachelor. She also something along the lines of "I really put myself out there"

Oh Bev!

You then had a one on one date with Stephanie who was speechless when you asked about her dreams and career aspirations. After the date Stephanie was upset because she wished she had "put herself out there" more.

Oh well!

Next you took the ladies to clean up and re-paint a schoolyard, which earned you big points.

Everyone cooed and aaahed saying such things as "it's so nice that Andy wants to give back to the community!"

Yes, the community that ABC scouted, booked and shot.

Also while at the playground Danielle "put herself out there" and told you how she counseled a special needs child. This gave you a boner so you hugged her.

Touchdown Danielle!

Then Amber put something out there. Can you guess what it was? If said a potato you are wrong. If you said "herself" you are right! You are a smart doctor indeed. Yes, Amber put herself out there and talks about her students playing on the fact that she is a teacher and they are at a school and there are kids and the Bachelor is saving the children of America.

Go Amber, go Amber go!

Last but not least, you take my gurl Tessa on a one on one date. She tells you, she tells us, she tells anyone who will listen about how she is trying to "put herself out there" but it's hard when you are dating so many other women. (again, had these women not seen the show before? Did they not read the contract? Did they think the "competition" part of the show was just a competition against themselves to see how much they could put out there? YES you are dating other women! There are other women! One dude, lots of women! It's the fucking Bachelor!)

Not to change the topic, but where is "there" that all these girls are going "out" to? God, can someone "put" you out "there" for a change?

Anyhoozers, roses were given away, Tina and Stephanie are sent packin'


Tina cries and says that you are "charming, but not my prince."
Stephanie laments over not doing more.
And I am left thinking, why are you the prize? Why is it assumed that the ladies will love you? That you are the ideal? What if all 20 women decided they did not like you? What would happen? I mean how is that every season, without fail, all the women want the Bachelor?

But don't you worry your pretty lil' dr. officer noggin about that Andy.

You just go on and keep asking those ladies to "hang in there." (I’m just waiting for you to start whipping out that kitten holding on to a tree branch inspirational poster) You don't need tell me why season after season after season women go on this ridiculous, cheesy, addictive television show and fall in love with whatever pretty faced man-slut Chris Harrison dangles in front of their marriage hungry hearts. No, you don't need to explain this to me I just um, well I just wanted to um. God this is hard for me. I just ahhhh, um I didn't want to do this but, well I had to ask cause I just wanted to really put myself out there.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Smooching Couple on the Subway,

Yeah that's right, I was blasting Brittney Spears "I'm a Slave for You" on my Ipod and I am not asshamed! Don't think I didn't notice you two whispher and knod toward me, giggling and judging. I may sound paranoid but a person just knows when they are being talked about. I saw how you both jumped out of your neck nuzzles as Brit belted "can I get, can I get, whoaaaa..." Then you both smirked and sneared. I saw! I SAW!

So I turned down my volume and tried to listen in on your asshole-ishness. You noticed and presumably heard me turn down my pop magic and immediately changed the topic saying something about politics. Or maybe you were saying "Oh look that dumb girl is listening to cheesy pop tunes she must be too stupid to care about politics!"

You people make me sick. Don't you have other things to worry about like how gay you look sharing eskimo kisses? I mean it's a good fucking song okay? And if I wanna mouth the words and do the head swoop move like in the video it's my bussiness. And if I want to watch myself in the window reflection as I mouth the words and do the head swoop move like in the video it's my bussiness. And if I want to pant like a dog in heat during the "haahaahaa" heavy breathing part of the song as I watch myself in the window reflection as I mouth the word and do the head swoop move like in the video, it's my bussiness you caddy, immature turds!

Then, like a big girl, I put on Eminem's "Way I Am" super duper loud.

Yeah, I showed you.

And on that note...




Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Giulia,

You are a liar.
You an indecisive liar with no will power.

So you got some comment and a bunch of emails from readers complimenting your writing on this here site and asking you not to stop you not to quit blogging and you gave in! You gave in as if your readers are going to kill themselves if your stupid blog dies. You wish you were so special. I mean no offense Giulia, I am sure another sexy, sassy, sweet blog would swoop in and eventually win your old readers hearts over after you dumpd their asses. But none the less, you have decided to keep lil' dear douchebag going. Even though you are so sick of the word douchenbag. Even though the word douchebag is grossly overused. Even though you are getting busier lately and may not be able to write daily, you still can't kill your blog. I mean what else does one do wth all that Tyra rage?

So here's the deal, let's just write letters when we wanna. It may not be everyday but it will be often enough to make your awesome readers smile and prevent you from drinking yourself to death while reading US Weekly.

Really, was this a lame attempt at a publicity stunt? A lame bloggosphere publicity stunt?

Welcome back asshole.

Love Always.
Giulia

Dear Douchebag,

The time has come. I am breaking up with this blog. We lasted just under a year and boy was it fun.

I have really enjoyed ranting and sometimes sharing some love but now I am moving on to other things like trying to write and create for magazines and sites that not only pay (sometimes, just a little, pennies really) but magazines and sites that people actually read! ( Not to poo poo on you all, my 60+ a day readers).

Oh how I wanted to at least last through this season of the Bachelor but I just couldn't do it.

I'm also really, really, really sick of the word douchebag. Once upon a time in June 2006 I was visiting my friend Danielle at her office and we began talking about people. I got really heated about somebody that made me mad ( probably Tyra Banks) and called that person a douchebag ( it was just the start of the douche craze). Then it hit me! I am going to do something radically different online! Start a new blog! (cause the world needs more blogs!) And on that blog I will write letters to people who annoy me and I shall call those letters Dear Douchebag. Nice ring to it, huh? Brilliant, I tell you.

Since then I have discovered a plethora of letter writing sites and douchebag entiltled sites. (Hey, I never claimed to be super original). And just like when everyone in highschool got a crush on boy X, I decided I hated boy X and this blog has become boy X. Well I don't wanna make out with my blog name and marry it. I mean. Well you know what I mean. Do you know what I mean? Do I even know what I mean?

(This all makes sound pretty douchey, huh? Oh well, write me a letter about it)

Plus, I am a terrible speller and my Safari browser on my Mac disables my blogger spellcheck. I mean really people, this is taking up too much energy.

So anyhoo I'm out. Please visit www.giuliarozzi.com for updates on where and when I'll be talkin' shit and writin' shit. I've got an article coming out in Playgirl next month and some other things in the works so please check my site for all that fun stuff. Also starting in May you can find me blogging for www.thehuffingtonpost.com in the lifestyles section.

And to all those peeps I've written to over the past 10 months that I may have insulted, this one's for you...



I will miss you, now please go fuck yourselves.

Love Always,
Giulia


PS. Today's Tyra is a special "So What!" episode about her "So What" positive body image campaign. In this episode Tyra said "I love Pinks hotdogs and usually I eat them without the bun but tonight I plan to get one with the bun! SO WHAT!" Then a girl came on and blew up her scale.Thankyou Tyra, what a lovely way to end my blog.


Thanks Tyra, what a lovely way to end my blog.

Dear Dr. Officer Baldwin, ( letter #4)

A-dawg, brother be getting all slick n' sit up in dis piece. Yup last night you busted out all your smoothest moves when you and the ladies went to Tahoe.

Rather than nauseate myself and my readers with a long play by play of your dates (okay fine I am sleepy today) I will just remind us of the best quotes that flew out of your mouth last night:

-As you kissed Bevin "do you feel that? do feel the electricity when we touch?"

-To the ladies at the casino "keep it real girls, keep it real"

-To Bevin in your hotel room as you kiss "I want to be cured"

-Later to Bevin as you kissed "Want to give me check up"

(Nice work on the double doctor references!)

-To Tessa " You are my sanctuary. Please stick with it"

-To Tina " You are just what the doctor ordered"

Later to Tina "That was the medicine I needed"

(Quadruple doctor references! Hot damn Andy, you are on pun fire! No really, I sorta wish you were on fire)

Yet these ladies love Dr. Cheese.

They love your gooey, stinky, bright white toothed cheesiness. They love it so much that when Nicole didn't get a rose she lost it. Yes, sweet, adorable, lispy Nicole.

I thought she was my favorite. I mean I didn't think you were a good match because she seems, well sane and all but then I was proven wrong. When you did not give Nicole a rose she cried. Fair enough. She cried and moaned " Where do I go from here? How the HELL does that happen!?!!!!!!"

Then Stephanie T. lost it too. Well I don't think she ever really had it. Yes, delusional, non-blinking, titty baring, Stephanie. I knew she was my least favorite. She closed the show declaring "I'm leaving cuase of stupid jealous girls. Story of my life"

And there we have it. Clearly I am too mentally drained from ingesting so much Bachelor horse shit to end on a witty remark.

Till next week Dr. Officer...

Love Always,
Giulia


ps. Andy, are you a robot?

Dear Girl with a New Cell,

Please do not test out all 30 of your ring tones in the middle Not Your Average Joes restaurant! I was just trying to enjoy a burger and some conversation when you insisted on spending 15 minutes choosing a new ring tone? Nobody is wowed with your Asian ditty or Fanfare melody. I'm sorry Mommy didn't call you pretty as a little girl but please, stop making us look at you.

I will say this, there is one type of person who is a bigger turd than you: those two chicks I saw at Target on Thursday who shopped for bikinis while blasting J-Lo's "Waiting for Tonight" on their Helio . When I see boyeez strutting about the city blasting hardcore rap from a boxboom I want to punch them in the dick, so you can only imagine the violent daydreams I had involving these two preppy tramps trolling the juniors section blarring bad pop music. Sorry sluts, Hortensia the dressing room attendant is not impressed and neither am I. Now please, use that Mossimo terry cloth tube dress as a noose to choke yourselves.

Can't we all turn down the volume a wee bit?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Alec,

Wow, and I thought I embarassed when my not-famous father called me "dummy" at Bugaboo Creek two weeks ago when I kept doing impressions of the talking moose head.

Oh Alec, I am huge fan of your work. Ugh, how I wish you didn't leave such a horrible voicemail to your 11-year-old daughter (because clearly this directly affects me).

I mean, I get it. Sometimes daddy's loose their temper. Sometimes daddy's say mean things. Daddy's are not perfect. My daddy has lost his temper and has said mean things, the only difference is that he is smart enough not say such mean things on my voicemail. Probably because he is too un-tech savvy to even know how to use a cell phone. But that is neither here not there, point is Alec you are an amazingly talented and handsome man who realy should use his airtime minutes on booty calls, not calls to poo-poo on a child's ego.

Look Alec, I know you're sorry. I just wanted to let you know I understand that we all loose our cool but please, verbally abusing your daughter is just gonna lead her to a life of either strippping or stand-up comedy- both involve baring in all on stage in hopes that someone will pay her a bit of that loving attention daddy never gave. Trust me, I know.

Perhaps somebody's soul could use a lil' saving? Hmmmmmm?

None the less, I still love you and your shweaty balls no matter what.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Mom at Naidres in Brooklyn,

Yes I am just another douchebag in here typing away on my laptop but really you and your 6 year old daughter are really going to LOUDLY play Monopoly in a coffee shop? Really?

You just screamed at your kid "No, no, NO! You owe me money for your income taxes!"

Income taxes? Age 6? It's not even Monopoly Jr. you asshole.

Really why don't you just yell " Everyone! Everyone please look at us! I am playing Monopoly with my 6 year old daughter. She's SOOOOOO smart, like a mini Donald Trump! Oh and I haven't been laid in 5 years since her father left me for someone with a soul!"

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Dr. Officer Andy Baldwin (letter # 3, sorta) and the rest of the world,

I promised that every Tuesday I'd write to you and I have failed. Last night I forgot to Tivo the Bachelor! Recaps displayeed images and stories of injured ankles, drill sergeants, and mud spas. It looked like comedy gold and I was furious to have missed the show. Then I heard about the Virginia Tech shootings and for some reason missing your addictive pile diareha TV show suddenly seemed like a pretty fucking pathetic thing to get upset about.

I don't think I can say anything new about this terrible, scary, sad, devestating, and heart-breaking event. I have been reading what I can find online including these chilling blogs and video from students who experiences the shootings first hand. I cannot even understand what the fuck happen, what I do know that whatever reasons the shooter, Cho Seung-Hui gives for commiting this disgusting crime are completely irrelevant. There is no logical reason for such behavior. If you're in a bad mood and really need to shoot someone to feel better, please just shoot yourself you sick asshole. I was in a bad mood last week and I wanted to drink to feel better. I didn't pour vodka down the throats of innocent victims.

As I type this I am watching the press briefing from Virgnina Tech authorities and the police on CBS. Tears begin to fill my eyes. I am so sadden by how gross this world at times.

Then the news brief ends and we are returned to the reguarly sceduled programming already in progress. It's Entertainment Tonight and they are at the TV Land awards talking to older female celebs about staying thin. They interview Maureen McCormick about her getting slim secrets. Then they cut to the next story revealing exclusive photos from Dannielynn's photo album.

And then I just got sadder by how gross this world is at times.

Love Always,
Giulia



ps. I promise I'll be funnier tomorrow assuming there aren't anymore school shooting between now and then.

Dear Giulia,

You had one of those weeks where you got on your own nerves. Normally when someone is being an asshole you can just walk away, but you can't walk away from yourself. So you decided to get drunk for a few days. Afterall you are a fun drunk and you don't walk away from a fun drunk.

Except for when you called a girl an asshole for stealing your cab on Friday night and then turned to her friends who were still behind and screamed "yeah I called your friend asshole!" holding your arms in the air like youse aboutz to brawl. The girl and friends didn't even say a word back to you so basically you were arguing with yourself. That was not fun drunk behavior.

As I recount the thoughts and things about my week past I can't help but hear this song over and over again in my head.



While I realize that KRS-One, Stetsasonic, Kool Moe Dee, MC Lyte, Just-Ice, Doug E. Fresh, Heavy D, Public Enemy, and Ms. Melodie were rapping about anti-violence awareness raising half a million dollars for the National Urban League and not about the violence inside an immature 20-something with daddy issues, I am still going to embrace their anti-self destructive mantra. Oh and I like to find ways to make everything about me.

But I think I what really helped snap out this funky mood was watching the newest inspirational and classy VH1 new series Charm School. It was beautiful to see that VH1 has decided to cut back on it's trashy TV and really try and make an impact in the lives of these scantly-clad, violent, fame hungry women.

VH1 describes the show as "thirteen of your favorite breakout stars from "Flavor of Love" seasons one and two are back for some heated competition. Living as a group, learning as a group and out for themselves, these former Flavorettes will be rigorously trained in proper etiquette and manners before competing in challenges to determine their poise and grace under pressure."

Last night, Rain/Thela's destructive temper caused her to be first to get the boot.

I don't want to be Rain/Thela. Perhaps she and I can both embrace the words of the Stop the Violence All-stars

"I'll drive to build And collect
ourselves with intellect,
come on To revolve to evolve to self respect
Cause we got to keep ourselves in check
Or else it's...

Self Destruction, ya headed for Self Destruction
Self Destruction, ya headed for Self Destruction"

Word.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Hellmanns,

I just saw your new "Get real, get Hellmanns" commercial featuring a ethnically diverse array of folks spreading ( pun inteneded) the message that Hellmann's is a health food.
I am especially uncomfortable with your rethink mayo campaign. There is no need to rethink mayo when most of us don't like to think mayo in the first place. My college roommate was so grossed out by you that if our other roommates jar of mayo was blocking her beer in the fridge, she'd ask one of us to move it out of her way. She couldn't even touch a jar mayo, let alone rethink it. Creamy, stinky, gag-inducing, sour if used in a tuna sandwhich and left in the sun, fatty, mayo.
Wait, let me give mayo some consideration....
Yeah no, I don't wanna rethink it. I don't wanna think about mayo this much ever again.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Tyra, ( letter number #6)

Yesterday's episode was called "Can You Handle Brutal Honesty?"

The first segment was one of your infamous Tyra Show "social experiments" aka "putting your guests in compromising positions so you can force a result". You created a "focus group of four childhood friends, Jen, Simone, Schari, and Angela, to discuss the level of honesty in their relationship."

Ty, a focus group/social experiment/study whatever requires more than one group to study. A focus group requires a control group, stats, research! Not four chicks on bean bag chairs asking one another questions your producers wrote.

Dr. Banks scientific results of this focus group? "all four realized that they hadn’t been completely honest with each other. They also realized that they were good enough friends to push past any mess and in honesty, laugh and love their way to a more solid friendship."

Nice, take credit for the years of work these four friends have done to create a solid bond. Also nice is when you took a dump on their beautiful friendship by inviting Body Language Specialist Lillian Glass and Polygraph Technician John Groger, to monitor this focus group. Lillian claimed that "the girls’ body language was masking their internally unspoken and hidden thoughts."

This expert analyzation was followed by everyone, especially Tyra telling Simone that regardless of what she said, based on her body language, giggling, and your forced dramatics that Simone was jealous of her friends. You told her how she felt. she told her what she thought. You made her cry. You made her cry and then comforted her much an like an abusive boyfriend who punches his girl in the face and tells her she’s pretty.

Oh Tyra, you is so silly.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Donna Hogan,

Using Anna's fame and death to self books and gain media exposure?Gross.
You make me sad.
I think "the story behind Anna Nicole" is about a shitty sibling crawling up her ass once she got money.

Get it "behind" and "ass"? Anyone? No? Get it? Okay.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Andy Baldwin, ( letter #2)

As promised, here is my weekly letter to The Bachelor.
Thank you Officer Dr. Andy Baldwin for curing my case of the Mondays. You like that navy/doctor remark don’t ya? I know you do cause this season’s Bachelor is full of them!

The show started off with your two group dates. Before your first date you informed viewers at home that "operation soul mate is about to begin." (navy/doctor remark #1)

For group date #1 you and half the ladies went to the Saddle Ranch Chop Houseon Sunset Blvd. You said

"When you think of Hollywood you think of the Sunset strip. This is where it all happens!"

If you mean where underage wanna-be starlets get drunk at puke on one another, then yes you are at the right place.

Conveniently the bar was nearly empty at 4 o’clock in the afternoon so there was no line to ride the mechanical bull. One by one your bachelorettes straddled the beast as it vibrated and shook forcing thier breasts to bounce every which way.



When Tessa was thrown from the steed she cried “ I need a doctor!” (navy/doctor remark #2) And who ran to her side? None other than the Office and Gentleman himself!

After all that rough riding them bitches needed to get wet but first, a cocktail party is in order! The women were sent to a room to choose a gown for the event and then met you on the roof top of a hotel.



You repeatedly expressed your delight in being “surrounded by so many beautiful women” and how you must be “the luckiest man alive!” as you slid your hands up and down whatever female backside you could reach. I almost could see the little officer in your pants rising to attention but alas the stark whiteness of your teeth blinded me so.

Now back to getting wet.

Like any good navy man you know how to give orders, so you commanded your little love soldiers to go on! Get! Put on your swimsuits cause it ain’t no date if their ain’t no hot tub!

HOT TUB!
HOT TUB!
HOT TUB!



You greeted the bikini babes in the warm water with more “I’m surrounded by so many beautiful women” and “I must be the luckiest man alive!”

There were some moments where you had some “real connections” except for your one on one time with Tiffany W. (she's a medical equipment representative-ding ding ding it's Doctor related!). You found Tiff to be a bore, but later you made out with Bevin underwater and found her to be a whore! (How you like them, rhymes Dr? As in Dr. Seuss or perhaps Dr. Dre? Oh my! So many doctors!)

Quick everyone in the pool for a 5-some!!!



Alas the night and you both came to a close. Well I assume you came. I mean... you had to beat your navy noodle to a pulp after being “surrounded by so many beautiful women!” Come on admit it! Cum on! (jizz/dick remark #1)

Next up, group date #2. The second half of ladies were put to the test competing in a mini triathlon in hopes to win some one on one time with Athletic Officer Dr. Andy Baldwin.



There was cycling in bikinis. Swimming in bikinis. Erin and Susan holding hands as they walked the swim laps in bikinis. Running in bikinis.

Amber wins so you two do a lil’ canoodling on the beach both telling viewers at home that is was the most romantic thing ever! That sitting on the beach with a camera crew is the most romantic thing ever!




Wait a darn second, is that Andy or M-M-M-Max Hedroom?




And then, the best line ever spoken on the Bachelor, Amber talks about her athletic abilities saying “yeah I am preparing to run the 2007 Marathon!”

THE 2007 MARATHON! Oh my! Where is it held? In the capitol of 2007? Will you run down 2007 Street? Past 2007 Park?

Last but not least, you have a private date with Stephanie T. (She works as an organ donor coordinator. Dang all these bitches be all up in the medical field! )



As the winner of the initial rose last week she gets to join you on your yacht for dinner. The twist: she either gets s rose that night or goes home “never living out her dream of marrying a doctor!” After some nauseating re-enactments of scenes from the Titanic and some champagne sipping you go where else but to the HOT TUB! ( you must be all pruney by now, huh?)

Then, the second best line ever spoken in Bachelor history occurs when you ask Steph
“Do the girls in the house feel animosity toward you for getting that first rose?”

To which Stephoney replies
"Yes, the other girls are giving me animosity"

You immediately give her the rose.

The rest of the show is the cocktail hour/ rose ceremony. Yada yada “ I want a chance to let Andy know the real me.” Yada yada uncomfortable to watch foot massages exchanged with Tessa. Yada yada “will you accept this rose” Yada yada you send the virgin, the boring girl, and blonde #2 home. Yada yada you all toast as you say “I must be the luckiest man alive!”

Oh how I enjoy you Officer Dr. Ken!


Sorry, I meant Officer Dr. Andy


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Judge Keith Dean,

Last week on 20/20 I saw a follow up report on the Tyrone Brown story. You recall Tyrone Brown don't you? He is the 34 year old man who spent the past 17 years of his life in jail for breaking his parole. After being arrested for stealing $2, you sentenced Tyrone to life in prison when he was caught with a joint. Does that all ring a bell?

Luckily ABC reported this disgustingly unjust situation thus helping Tyrone’s sentence to be overturned. I was in tears as I watched footage of Tyrone returning home as he expressed only gratitude and forgiveness without an ounce of bitterness or anger toward you. Not an ounce. How beautiful is that? That a man can forgive the gross monster who robbed him of his youth?


While I still think you are a heartless douchebag, I am going to try and learn by Tyrone’s example and forgive you and everyone else who is too stupid to be compassionate. (Note: this does not in any way indicate the death of deardouchebag.com. I mean a girl has gotta still speak her mind. I am just saying I forgive the douches of the world and am trying to become very peaceful in he fact that karma will work its magic on them someday).

Anyhoozers, good luck Tyrone! May you find happiness in your new world.

And I guess good luck to you Keith, may you find a way to live with the unimaginable guilt I hope you feel on a daily basis. Do us a favor and donate some money somewhere, do some volunteer whatnot, just do something to add some positivity back into this world. It’s the least you can do to make up for the joy you stripped from it.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Diane Degarmo,

I read in People Magazine that you dropped 3 dress sizes. Congrats! I also read that since you are now skinny you are excited to make music videos saying "Bring on the bikinis! Bring on the water hoses!"
Water hoses. Again, that's water hoses. As in, water hoses? Oh.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear NYC Landlord,

I know it's April. I know last week it was 60 degrees. I know I stupidly packed away most of my heavy winter gear with the insane assumption that it was actually spring. I know that this burst of unexpected winter means that somewhere, Rosie O'Donnell is hanging upside down. I know it should not be this cold out right now but please, PLEASE turn the heat back on. I cannot shiver myself to sleep again tonight. And if my words don't inspire you, perhaps this will.



Oh, and while you're at it, don't forget to go fuck yourself.

Love Always,
A frozen Giulia

Dear Andy Baldwin,

Oh yes! Yes! Yes! YES! The Bachelor is back providing me with a guaranteed plethora of weekly douchery to discuss.

For this run The Bachelor decided to change things up a bit. Nooooooo, they don't have a Black, Hispanic or Asian bachelor-what are you nuts?! Ha ha! A non-white bachelor! Ha! That's a good one. Ha ha! But seriously folks, the good peeps at ABC got political and patriotic with this "The Bachelor, Officer and a Gentleman" in honor of you, this season's rich, white-breed, slightly fem, lucky bachelor; U.S. Navy Lieutenant Andy Baldwin, M.D.



You are a toothy fellow. Awkward. Sweet. And as we learned last night you are impressed by:

1) back flips

(Stephanie W woo-ed Andy and quite frankly me as well, with her gymnastic skillz.)


2) bad bravado

(Just in case you were worried that the navy horse would not be beaten to death this season, Tina swept Andy off his tone-deaf feet by signing the Star Spangled Banner for him acapella. I thought we were done with American Bachelor Idol back when
Bob Guiney sang sour nothings in our bleeding ears. I really hope this season Tina goes onto serenade you with a rap version of “Proud To Be An American” and an electronica rendition of “You’re a Grand Ol’ Flag”)


3) buxom blondes

(I don't recall you speaking to Erin once throughout the entire show but with such purty natural blonde hair and such purty natural big breasts, why ruin such purty things with chatter?)


We learned you are NOT impressed with


1) girls who don't blink

(Linda, oh Linda. She was very intense. She kept mentioning how she likes to work out just like Andy and because of this she is basically his male counterpart. Note to Linda: straight dudes don't want girlfriendswho can bench press more than they can. Second note to Linda: straight dudes don't want girlfriends who aren’t...well...a girl. Right now with all your muscle talk and killer eyes I am just scared that at any minute you might do something like this

So sorry Linda to break it all to ya, I'm not being mean. It's just that you seem like a nice girl but let’s just bring it in a bit, shall we?)


2) Dramatic bitches with attitude desperate for camera time and attention

(Lindsay was the token black girl. Now, we all know that the black one never gets to the final 2 anyhoo but usually ABC does a pretty good job at keeping things diverse at least till the final 15. But Lindsay decided to immediately pick fights with the other ladies, talking shit and rocking the finger snap. When she did not get a rose she waltzed out before "taking a moment to say her final goodbyes" swearing, screaming and stomping her little 22 co-ed footsies. Fear not Linds, I'm sure there will be other casting opportunities where your behavior is welcomed and encouraged.

Well Andy, looks like you have an array of romantic hopefuls to toy with, bang, and reject on national television. I look forward to the endless navy themes (lots of saluting, flag waving and use of your uniform to get those girls on thier knees) and unlimited doctor references (like " Is there a doctor in the house? Cause I need mouth to mouth!" and "Give me a gyno exam, stat!")

Till next week Dr. Baldwin.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Hanson,

I was flipping channels last night and saw you three dudes on Deal or No Deal. An Indiana woman was trying to win $300,000 and before she chose her third to last brief case she convieniently said " Maybe a little tune from Hanson would help." Of course, you three obliged, busting out a sweet acapella MmmBop ditty to the audiences delight.

Since I missed the first half of the show I was not quite sure what you all were doing on Deal or No Deal. Assuming it was some sort of publicity appearance to revamp your career I was a wee unsettled as to how singing "MmmBop" revamped anything but perhaps the libido of a 23-year old former fan who had her first imaginary kiss with your Tiger Beat posters in 1997. I mean , when is this "MmmBop" thing going to finally be over? And when is someone going to come out and explain what the "HmmBop" even means? And could they also explain the definition of "Lala and Fergalicious too? I mean really, are we still MmmBopping? Were we ever MmmBopping?





Damn. It is a catchy tune. But I think the real problem is that when you boys came out you were infants, except Isaac. Poor Isaac was like what, 14? And Taylor and Zachary were like 4 and 6? Poor Isaac was going through puberty on MTV and had to babysit his little brothers. And now! Now you all of you are so grown up and hot! I mean you were always attractive but in a " I wanted to dress you in a furry bumble bee baby halloween costume and put you in a carriage and tote you around the playground" sorta cutsie wootsie; now you are actually fuckable.





OMG I just called Hanson fuckable? I did. Is that okay? Am I okay? Will their mom get mad?

So please, for the sake of your future, enough with the Hmm Bop. You can Mmm when you are trying to think as in "Mmm we are a hot set of bros" and you can still Bop as in "I took this hot chick back to my hotel and Bopped her." But please no more "Mmm Bop" together okay? You guys are old enough, good looking enough, and talented enough to move on.

But please, feel free to "Ba du bop, ba duba dop" as much as you lke.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Last 4 Digits of my Social Security Number,

I dunno you sort of lost it. I mean you were very special back in the day when only my bank needed you. Now, all my accounts and services have their paws all over your digits. I mean when customer service man X quits his job at Cingular Wireless, couldn't he take you, use you, and abuse you? I just don't see how you keep me safe from fraud when you are such a whore and all.

This is all thanks Chris Hansen. I used to just be scared of creepy ugly dudes in trucker hats who chase 12-year old cyber tale, now I fear asshole identity thieves too. Don't get me wrong, I am addicted and grateful for Chris's investigations but man oh man, it seems like everyone is out to get us huh? I am suspect of everybody now! Next thing you know Chris is going to try and tell me that it was "unsafe" for me to have purchased drugs from strangers in dance clubs back in 2001 or that all the boys who told me they thought I was really, really, really pretty right before I gave them a blow job didn't really mean it. Better yet, next he'll probably do a show about how blogging is dangerous and how I could write something offensive on my site and somebody could track my blog back to my personal info, find out where I live and kill me. Ha ha. Kill? Me? Ha ha ha. Ha?

On that note I'd like to take a moment and apologize to Mr. Spencer Pratt if I offended him at all. He not creepy. No, he is sweet. Yeah um...very sweet.

Please don't kill me.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Miss America,

I just heard the devastating news that you lost your contract with CMT. This is truly tragic, normally it’s your contestants who say things like " my dream is to make sure every American has food their plates and a roof over their heads" and now Miss America herself is homeless.
I remember way back when you were on network TV. Remember that? First the shaft from broadcast, now the shaft from cable. Do you feel shitty? Does this all make you feel like a piece of garbage? Do you feel worthless, alone, and ugly? Sucks don't it?
Welcome to how your stupid show has made women feel for years.

Now here's where I get confused, how can there be a Miss America and a Miss USA? Seems like that's a conflict of interest ( in case you didn't already know). I mean weren't you, Miss America the original and now you're just gonna let Miss USA run your spray tanned asses out of our hearts? That's not the Miss America I know. The Miss America I know is catty, bitchy, and will kill to win. Or are you afraid of Trump now that he is a wrestler and all? A wrestler betting that he will beat Vince McMan or shave his hair off? Yeah his "hair." I know, I thought it was a wig too but everything in WWE is real. They wouldn't make stuff up in WWE.

I got the displeasure of watching some of you Miss USA/America robots on Extra Inside Access Entertainment Edition Hollywood Tonight or whatever a few weeks back. It was a breaking entertainment story about eating disorders followed by a feature on how to get that post-baby weight off fast! In the piece some Miss America contestants talked about they "don't diet" They screamed how they "LOVE HAMBURGERS" and then giggled and coo-ed. One girl exclaimed " I love my curves" and then posed for the camera revealing her voluptuous rib cage. HOT!
There was alot of emphasis from these chicks about having "real" women’s bodies, and "real" parts, and being "real" women who are just so damn "real".
One size 0 girl with D cups exclaimed "I am REAL! There is nothing plastic on me!"
(Minus her 65 year-old boyfriends credit card)

My favorite line of the piece was from a high-pitched bubbly little doorknob ( and forgive me if I misquote, I am not super fluent in dolphin screeching) that said something like "Yeah it's competitive as far as bodies go, but we're not obsessed. I mean being Miss America isn't about your body"
Okay, that explains the SWIMSUIT COMPETITION!

Anyhoo. Don't worry Miss America, you'll find a new home someday. I hear some cable access channels out there actually a viewer or two.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Unknown Sports Announcer,

WARNING: THIS IS A LOVE LETTER


I am so sorry Yannich Bertrand nuts had to suffer, but this is by far one of the best videos ever. You're the one with the balls we care about you mystery announcer man. I love you. I love you so very much.





Love Always,
Giulia

Dear American Girl Place,

A friend of mine sent me this article about what assholes work at your NYC store. Your employee made fun of a little girl named Etta for bringing a "fake doll." to your doll hairstyling event. What does that even mean? Aren't all dolls fake? I mean dolls aren't ever "real" unless it's Chucky and Chucky kills little kids.

Your site describes your company as such:

"Come spend a day you’ll never forget—at American Girl Place New York. Situated in the heart of the Big Apple’s most prestigious shopping, cultural, and business neighborhood, American Girl Place New York is much more than a store. It’s a place for magical experiences and memories you’ll cherish forever."


I'd like to make a few edits:


"Come spend a day you’ll never forget because we will scaar you for life—at American Girl Place New York. Situated in the heart of the Big Apple’s most prestigious shopping, cultural, and business neighborhood, American Girl Place New York is much more than a store, it's a nightmare! It’s a place for magical experiences likehaving your self-esteem trampled and memories you’ll cherish forever, like having a heartless trollop tell you that your doll is ghetto and your life is meaningless.



You guys are gross and your dolls looks like sluts, but what would one expect from a subsidiary of Mattel, Inc. the makers of Barbie?

Rather than go on, I'll direct you to this letter from Etta's heartbroken mother.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Laryngitis,

Did you come into my life this weekend to prevent me from saying something stupid?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Internet,

You have been fussy lately. I have not been able to get on you. This therefore is ruining my letter writing.
Love always,
Giulia

Dear "J"

When I first saw the headline Starvation for Sanjaya I thought it was so nice that fans of American Idol have done something useful and started a charity to feed the poor in their favorite Idols honor. But no, according to your MySpace page ( in which you call yourself "J" like Jerkoff, Jackass, and Just a big toolbag) this is a protest against Sanjaya Malakar’s progression through the American Idol process.


Wow. This is what people in America are doing with their time huh? As if watching rock star hopefuls prance about to “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” for two hours, twice a week on Fox wasn’t mind-numbing enough now you are asking people to give up their dinner in protest? I can understand loosing your dinner after watching the nauseatingly cheesy flirting between Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell, but not eating cause you are anti an awkward little Indian kid with a 1970’s feathered style coif?


What I am wondering is you really that upset that William Hung. Woops my bad, I meant Sanjaya Malakar is winning the hearts of voters? Or are you just so desperate for attention you have devised this pathetic media charade so that stupid people can waste their time making fun of you and linking to your Youtube and Myspace page on their blogs? ( hey wait a minute). Or is this just a new fad diet, where folks fill themselves up on calorie-free pop culture bullshit thus dropping 4 dress sizes in two months? Either way, you’re a loser. I don’t think I need to expand on this fact much further since your video below demonstrates just how big of a loser you are way more than my witty zingers ever could.





Please do us all a favor and do something more useful with your time you asshole like helping poor people in the world who are actually starving.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Makers of Red Bull,

Your latest ad is horrifying. (Click here to see said ad)
Basically what you are saying is until a superhero downs a can of your liquid crack, innocent ladies will be raped and robbed in the street. Granted it's a fake cartoon street with a fake cartoon lady and fake cartoon rapist/thief. But none the less you are sending a terrbile message to fake cartoon superheros across the nation.
Tsk tsk Red Bull. Tsk Tsk.
Love Always,
Giulia


ps. See you next Saturday in my vodka. Bring yer glowsticks cause we be dancing.

Dear Puppies,

I really want one of you but my fiancé insists I am too busy, unavailable, unstable and irresponsible to take care of you. Just cause a gal spends most of her time job-hopping or avoiding work all together preferring instead to travel and shop for new clothes on an imaginary budget provided by Citicards and hang out late night at bars and comedy clubs drinking more than she can afford both physically and financially does not make her busy, unavailable, unstable and irresponsible. It may make her a selfish, over zealous, immature douchebag but certainly not a woman incapable of caring for a pup. Would I really clean up it's poo, vomit or any other such icky body thingys? Probably not, but I would get it some adorable sweaters and hats. Oh and a cute doggy carry bag, one that compliments my skin tone and big brown eyes. And when i say one that matches me I mean both the bag and the dog.

Yes, I dare to dream.

In the meantime I will just have to enjoy cutesy wootsey doggy woggy actors like the one in this adorable lil' flick


I still really want a dog.
Love Always,
Giulia

ps. Check out www.myspace.com/thekissingboothnyc for more on the two sexy masterminds behind this video.

Dear Dude at Starbucks who poured my coffee this morn,

I’m really tired today. Really, really, really tired. It’s not your fault I had a night of restless, anxious, tossing, turning, sighing, tense sleep. With each glance at the clock, I got even more anxious as the countdown to my alarms rude awakening drew closer and closer. I woke up really angry, really, really, really angry. It’s sunny out. It’s almost 60 degrees. It’s almost spring so we can all rest assured that Rosie O’Donnell’s depression is fading (poor thing, she gets sad during the winter. Life must be tough for her). None the less, when a person is without proper rest, it’s hard to really appreciate any beauty that surrounds them.

Except for the beauty of coffee. I love my Joe. (why is it called Joe?) So you can imagine my dismay when handed my grande drip to find that the barista had included a generous amount of “room” obnoxiously implying that he knows how much milk I want in my cup! I realize that there are a large number of folk who “drink coffee” but actually drink half a cup of cream and half a cup of actual coffee. Well I for one am not a big coffee dresser. I take my coffee without sugar, without flavor syrups, and with very little to no cream. My coffee don’t need no fancy bling, I like it hot, rich, and black (mmm hmmmm, that’s right girl!)

It may not seem like a big deal to you, but if I buy a grande I want a grande, not ¾ of a grande. I paid for a full grande, if I choose to dump half of it in the garbage or down your pants that’s my prerogative!
And furthermore, I am so gosh darn sleepy today that I honestly could have used that inch of coffee you denied me! I needed it. I NEED IT!

So what was I suppose to do? Go back to the counter and look like a cheap, needy chump and ask that you fill my cup completely? That’s like when folks drive back to the grocery store because the cashier short changed them 25 cents ( ahem, my mom). I used to specifically say when ordering coffee “Grande drip please, no room” but the counter person always managed to not hear my “no” and gave me even more room than if I had not mentioned the room.

So basically I am screwed. Screwed out of my good night sleep. Screwed out of my full $2 worth of coffee. And now screwed out of twenty minutes of my life spent writing to you Mr. Barista. Sounds like a forbidden dance. La Barissssstttttaaaaa!

Someone please slap me and wake me up or let me nap in your bosom. One or the other please. Please


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Spencer,

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Yes Spencer, like Heidi I am a victim to your scheming, but it’s not your charisma that fools me it’s your ventriloquist skillz.
Everytime I watch The Hills (which I admit is once. Perhaps twice a week) I am in awe of your ability to maintain your crisp white toothy smile as talk sweet nothings into Princess Heidi’s ear.


Unable to find post-able internet video footage to demonstrate my point I implore you (and any other readers) to pay close attention to how little your lips move the next time The Hills airs on MTV (which will most likely be right now since it airs every other half hour, no? Right before and after The Gauntlet? Right?). Like last night on the new years episode when you were telling Heidi that you wanted to take her home you did so without moving your lips once to break that socio-path-like-perma-smirk. It was so fascinating and creepy I could have sworn you also muttered “and I want to chop you into little pieces and store you in my freezer.” Ha ha. I don’t think you said that, but you could have and we would have never seen it.


Well, looks like you are all set if your career of nauseatingly pimping out Brody Jenner ever comes to an end, you always have a go-to job of entertaining the masses with a puppet (other than Heidi). Who knows, you could be the next Willie Tyler & Lester! My wouldn’t that be a switch from your evenings at Area Nightclub?

Oh and thanks for accepting my friendship request on Myspace, I’m excited to exchange cute “Thanx for the add” comments and such.
Love always,
Giulia

Dear Bride-to-be I met this weekend,

I just wanted to apologize for nearly vomiting all over your khakis when, after knowingme for 2 minutes, you said to me "OH MY GOD I am going to be sooooooooo depressed after my wedding. I love being a bride! I love it! What will I do when it's all over?!"
I also hope that once the “biggest day of your life!” comes to a end you are able to find a new hobby such as cutting yourself or setting your hair on fire.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Kate Winslet,

WARNING: THIS IS A LOVE LETTER

I love you. I hate them.
A wise woman once told me " you go girl" and I'd like to pass that wisdom onto you.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,

You are coming out with a new film?



Wow. I didn't realize just how badly Hollywood was hurting for movie ideas. I mean really hurting huh? Like painfully, desperately, jonesing for stories. I guess I was unaware of the current demand for crime fighting reptile flicks? Apparently your hatchshell high kicks and nunchuck stylin's in 1990 just wasn't enough for us.
I am just glad the preview emphasizes the "only in theatres" aspect because if you were anywhere else, let's say in my bedroom, I'd have to burn my face off with steaming hot pizza. Ya'll still dig pizza right?
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Jose de Jesus,

So you claim to be a modern day Messiah?Jesus Christ are you kidding me? No really, Jesus answer me. You're not looking so hot.
If you are the dude I have been talking to everytime when I pray then I am deepy underwhelmed. i suppose this is what people feel like when they engage in online dating and the person they spoke to does not look as good as they thought in person.
So you're saying God lives in Texas huh? Does this mean we are all going to die and go to Houston?
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Internet,

If it weren't for you, I'd have no idea how much better it seems everyone else is doing.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Tyra ( again, letter #5)

Okay. I just watched last Monday's Tyra Banks show ( yeah I dvr'd it). You talked about your People cover (again) and patted yourself on the back for sweeping the nation with your message of positive body image (again). You had your audience wear similar red swimsuits with thier weight written on them as a way to feel empowered. You introduced your SO WHAT campaign. in which you asked your audience to You are indeed shedding light on a subject that needs to be discussed and I want to be on your side. I really want to be on your side.
I was almost was on your side until you talked about modeling again. You congratulated yourself on the fact that you have two plus-sized models on this season on America's Next Top Model (the same show that had a photo shoot on the premire episode mocking eating disorders, and the same show that supports an image based industry)
Oh Tyra, you almost got it. Almost.
Maybe the SO WHAT is for SO WHAT are you going to do to stop being so contradictory?
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Turd at the photo repro lab,

Listen, I realize dealing with a bunch of actors all day must be a pain. Surrounding yourself with 8 x 10's of characters. Their eyes glaring at you as if to ask you to please get them a job. Sure they/ we smile in those portraits, but beneath that grin is the sadness of our temp jobs, useless BFA's, and inability to still convince casting directors we can indeed play 18-24. Yeah, working at a headshot reproduction studio does seems like the pits but that does not make it acceptable for you to act like a socially retarded fuckwad.
You stood at your station, wireless earpiece connected, hand gripping your keyboard so you can be quickly prepared for some major headshot emergency. When I approached the counter, you were so desperate to look important and busy that you began to feverously organize papers as if I had interrupted some major project. I assume those were suicide note drafts you so urgently had to categorize? I mean, you hate yourself, right? Why else would you have snapped at me when I told you I did not have an order confirmation number for my headshots? When I attempted to explain that I was never given any such number, you rolled your eyes and snarked " I find that highly unlikely." Well, I find it highly unlikely that you have ever been laid but this isn't about opinions douche, it's about you, doing your job, and finding my headshots.

You glided your fingers across the keyboard, typing fast but trying to looking cool like when I was 7 years old and used to play with a calculator and pretend I was a cashier. You know that keyboard stroke, where one does not look at the keys as if to be like "I am so freaking good at my jobby job that I know exactly where the CRTL and ALT OPITION buttons are located, bitch!"

After a solid 10 minutes of:


Me (charming, honest comedic snuggle butt): "I do not have an invoice number but I paid already"

You (angry, heartless, bastard): "Look, we could do this all day but I can't help you without that number"

Me ( adorable, hopeful performer): "I do not have an invoice number but I paid already"

You (self-loathing, loveless fartknocker )"Look, we could do this all day but I can't help you without that number"

Me: ( about to cry, Hollywood hopeful with heart full of love)"I do not have an invoice number but I paid already"

You: ( obvious failed actor with a teeny tiny wiener) "Look, we could do this all day but I can't help you without that number"

And scene!



For some reason, I held my tongue. I wanted to so badly to shove your stupid face in a vat of photo finisher but I calmed my nerves, swallowed my tears as not to let you win. Eventually after I dug through my purse looking for this magic digit, you call out "was the order of these?" as you held up a color print of my lovely little talented face (see photo to the left, am I right or am I right? Look in my eyes and tell me I don't deserve my freaking headshot order, tell me!) I said yes and continued to look for the number assuming you were just asking me if that was the test proof of my order. Apparently misunderstanding you is a sin cause you then yelled "Maybe I don't speak the same language as you but I said I have your order!"

Um no you didn't. You said you found my proof. I realize I have a gorgeous ethnic look, making me a fantastic choice for any future casting on the Sopranos or ghetto mid-day immigration lawyer commercials ( PLEASE CALL ME) but don't pull that foreigner shit with me. You are right I don't speak your language, I don't speak douche so sorry for the miscommunication.

You handed me my order as you muttered something about how busy your day was (fuck yourself). I was about to say something about how rude you were and I am never coming back and so on and so forth but I was scared you'd take my headshot, remove the touch-ups, add on a moustache and send it to casting peeps across town, and frankly I've spent way to much time and money removing my lip hair for you destroy my reputation.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Beavers,

I throughly enjoyed this retarded headline written about you on yahoo- 1st Beaver spotted in NYC in 200 years. Yes it made me laugh. And yes it is because I have the sense of humor of a 13 year old boy.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Powers that be,

For the love of Christ PLEASE just bury Anna Nicole Smith next to her son already! I cannot handle another breaking news update regarding her decomposing body! Yes, decom-freakin-posing! Hasn't this poor girl been through enough? And it would also be super cool if the news stopped referring to her past behavior instead of her name, ie: calling her the former topless dancer . Gross, gross and gross.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Naked Lady without high heels in the gym locker room,

Wow, it’s been a while since you trotted about the gym locker room naked wearing high heels. I almost missed you. Almost. Not really. But it was nice to see you again yesterday especially because it seems that perhaps you found this site and you took my advice by ditching the stilettos! Yeah! And you put on panties! Yeah! However you purposely wore your panties with the back pulled down so you could still show off you very orangey tanned, shapely 40 + year old butt! Boo!
Some could argue that your undies were down by accident, but I saw you on a few occasions adjust the pull down by tucking the top panty elastic under your tush to show off your backside as you blew dry your hair. I’m not sure what the point of your 20 minute mooning was, nor do I understand why one must squat repeatedly while blow drying ones hair causing ones exposed crack to smile and frown, smile and from, smile and frown at the audience of unsuspecting fellow locker mates.
I can’t believe I am going to say this but I almost miss it when you were just nude and in heels. I mean at least going for the naked thing 100% was less obvious, but the pulled down panty thing just bewildered me.
Once again, I beg of thee to keep the naked body flaunting to a bare ( pun intended) minimum. I don’t like to be around assholes, and yesterday you forced me to be surrounded by two.

Dear Lily Allen,

WARNING: THIS IS A LOVE LETTER

My love letter of the week goes to you Ms. Lily Allen. If I had a voice, tone, rhythm, song writing ability, and a freaking sweet British accent I would have wanted to be you. Sadly the closest thing I can come to pop/ska sensation is having cool intro music play when I come onstage to tell silly stories or dumb jokes. In case you were wondering, yes most comics are tone deaf rockstars at heart.
But enough about my musical- retardation, back to you and your overall awesomeness. I liked you from the moment we became good pals on
MySpace (okay fine, rather when I sent you a friend request and you accepted. You accepted me. ) Then I saw you perform at Webster Hall a few weeks ago and I was smitten. You wear sweet-ass dresses and kick-ass gold jewelry, you get drunk onstage but can still carry a phenomenal note and you sing adorable songs about revenge, gross creepy dudes and tiny wieners. At to top it all off, you included a puppet in your music video for Alfie.



A freaking puppet! It’s like you knew about my puppet obsession and thought “what could I do to make Giulia love me more? Hmmmm puppets! That’s it! I’m gonna kick it with a puppet.”
Really the only thing left to make me think you are any cooler is to hang out with me. Ha ha!
No really, please hang with me.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear People working on VH1's The Agency,

I am not at all surprised that VH1 has a new unscripted show called The Agency which follows the folks at Wilhelmina, one of the top modeling agencies in the world. I was not surprised that the agents dissected potential models calling some of them ( thin ones mind you) “ fat cow” and “Pillsbury dough boy.” I was not surprised that some of those mean agents weren’t that attractive themselves. I’m not surprised that the modeling industry is harsh, cut throat and sad. Nope none of the above is a surprise.

What did surprise me was that the during the shows end credits, they split the screen to show an eating disorder PSA featuring a girl looking in the mirror as stats on the alarming number of girls under 10 who are on diets rolled down the screen. Talk about trying to cover your ass. You just spent 25 minutes showing us why so many girls are dangerously dieting as you called skinny models fat and glamorized an industry that helps create poor body image and eating disorders in the first place, then you try to make up for it by showing a short eating disorder PSA at the end? On a tiny split screen no less? It's like the Ku Klux Klan burning a cross on your lawn and then sending you a pink flamingo and garden gnome to cover up the burn-damaged grass. It's like raping a girl then offering her a towel and counseling.It's like Hitler killing millions of Jews and then sending any of their surviving family members some nifty fruit baskets. Shall I go on? Cause I could go on all day. Basically you beat us up, and then offered us a fucking band aid.

If you want to promote a body obsessed culture, go for it but do not then act like you care when little girls are starving themselves to be accepted by that culture.

Ooooooh you guys make me almost as mad as Spencer from The Hills on MTV. Almost.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear folks at thecelebritycondition.com,

You have some posts expressing concern about eating disorders in Hollywood and the media's obsession with thinness and then you have a shitload of other posts dedicated to making fun of celebrity weight gain. Maybe I am crazy but I just don't get what your point is? Are you against the fat/thin obsession or just adding to it?

Will we ever start to worry more about taking care of our own bodies instead of of judging the bodies of others?

Ugh.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Everyone freakng out about Brittney's hair,

Deep breaths ya'll, deep breaths. So Britney shaved her hair off, big woop. You didn't see this kind of madness when Telly Savalas shaved his head.

Telly Savalas. You know Kojak. Huh? What's that? Oh he didn't shave his head? Oh.

Well none the less, I for one sorta find it refreshing to see a young hollywood star without platinum extentions. Remember how well-liked Sinead O'Connor was. Maybe she wanted to match her baby's hairdo. Maybe she took the mom haircut too far. You know that mom do that middle-aged women always seem to get. Or maybe she just felt like doing it and it's really none of our bussiness. For God's sake, it's her poragative or have we already forgetten Brits words?

What? Oh that was originally Bobby Brown's song? Dammit.
Point is, yeah Brittney may be having some issue and I doubt everyone attacking her, watching her and debating over her mental health is really going to help her feel better. Psychiatrist Dr. Carole Leiberman said in an interview about Brittney that- When women have had a big disappointment and are angry, they might end up taking it out on themselves. It's a form of self-mutilation, whether cutting their wrists, cutting themelves somehow, or burning themselves. Oh really Carol? Shaving your head is self-mutilation? I think a buzz cut is less painful to Brit than the media attack she's been getting for the past few years.
Maybe everyone should worry about thier own stupid fucking hair instead of obsessing over Brittney's, I mean you know how many bitches with feathered hair I see buying US Weekly? Yeah, I said feathered.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Julie,

I called you today at 800-USA-RAILS when my Amtrak train was delayed almost 3 hours. I called you again when that same train was stuck in CT due to engine issues. Both times you did everything you possibly could to make me avoid speaking to a real live person. You kept mistunderstanding background noises as replies to your silly queries and then had the nerve to ask if I said the wrong destination city! Oh I know where I am headed, do you? Huh? Do you know where you are headed Jules?
Do you even want to be there Julie? With that sweet, sweet voice I can't imagine you like telling folks that their travel plans are dead. Is Amtrak holding you hostage and making you talk all that shmack? Do you need our help Julie? When you say "Are you headed to Washington DC?" really the code phrase for "help"?
Once again, I am afraid that the robots are going to take over.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Thieves,

Having a creative idea stolen from you is one of the worse feelings in the world. Last year my fiancés pitched a show to a TV station. The network passed on his idea and a year later that network debuted an extraordinarily similar show with out giving the original creator credit. This happens all the time. Recently Bud ran an ad during the Superbowl that was suspiciously similar to a sketch originally done by the NYC based sketch group "The Whitest Kids You Know." A year ago the fantastically adorable Johnny Cupcakes refused to sell his shirt idea to Urban Outfitters, soon after Johnny's design was created and reproduced regardless. Think of any popular stage show, TV show, movie or book and there is sure to be one of you copycats feeding off the hard work of the original. It's gross, its sad and its scary. It makes me not want to share my ideas with others, post anything online or even get on stage and perform for fear that you will rip me off. While I realized we are influenced by one another and it's inevitable that people will have similar ideas, it heart wrenching to watch you blatantly take because you are too lazy, too talentless, too heartless to create your own original work.


That all said I was blown away by this video of Joe Rogan confronting Carlos Mencia about his suspected stealing of numerous jokes from various comedians. Stealing in stand-up is perhaps the most common form of creative robbery and the hardest to prove since most stand up is not copy written. While I have no idea if Carlos Mencia is one of you thieves I did used to work at Comedy Store years ago and I knew most of the guys in this video including Joe Rogan and have faith in their words. Regardless I am just glad that somebody is speaking out about the deceitful and tacky practices that go on in the comedy and creative world in general.





Luckily karma will eventually take back twice as much as you thieves originally took.

Love Always.
Giulia

Dear Everyone,

It's Valentines day so I thought I'd write you all a note to say I love you. Now go on and show someone you really care and buy them a plastic rose from the gas station.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear G train,

Thanks for slamming your emergency breaks, stalling for almost 30 minutes at the Flushing stop and giving me laryngitis last night! ( Okay fine you didn't give me laryngitis but I have it and I want to blame someone/thing for it).
An even bigger thanks goes to the creepy and sweaty yo-yo-yo G who was leering at me for those 30 minutes as I hyperventilated, thus making my chest go up and down, up and down, up and down. Both of you give the beautiful letter G a bad rap.
Love Always, the better G (iulia)

Dear Eddie Murphy,

Bravo on topping this weekends box office with "Norbit" proving that people love movies where black comedians dress up like fat black women.




Maybe you can collaborate with other black men who have wow-ed audiences with dressing up as fat black women and create new classics such as Norbit goes to Big Momma's House or Norbit reads the Diary of a Mad Black Woman

I think I need a little dose of James Brown to remind me why I love you.




Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Aries Spears,

WARNING: THIS IS A LOVE LETTER!

In an effort to maintain my promise to write one letter of loving praise a week ( yes there are in fact, awesome people out there doing awesome things) I just wanted to let you know that I think you are pretty neat.





Thank you to my adorable pal Harry for forwarding me this video and thank you to you Mr. Spears for blowing my mind with your talent.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Metro,

This morning you reported that Anna Nicole jumped on a trampoline drunk when pregnant? Is this really news worthy? I'm just curious if you feel even a twinge of guilt that Anna Nicole Smith died today, the same you said "Considering Anna Nicole Smith has the common sense of a liquored-up doorknob." Not to say you specifically killed her, but the media in general has done a nice job killing lots of people's souls.
Hmph. I am seriously considering moving back into my mothers womb. Please come get me when the world becomes a nicer place.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Button Pusher,

Yesterday at the gym I pushed the button to call the elevator. The button lit up, meaning the elevator is on it's way. Apparently you have some sort of magic touch as you felt the need to re-push the already lit button as if the elevator will come faster now that the button master has summoned its services. You pushed it repeatedly as if multiple pushes speeds things up.
You also like to compulsively push crosswalk buttons after someone else has clearly done so already, yet again you seem to believe your touch is superior.
You give new meaning to the saying "he/she really pushes my buttons." Not that they are my buttons per se, but I did push them first so lay off.
Now do you understand why I didn't acknowledge your comment about "Oooh it's chilly out huh?" when we finally entered the elevator? I don't make small talk with pushy douches. Actually I don't make elevator small talk in general, unless the elevator gets stuck ( God, don't let it get stuck) our relationship is guaranteed to only last a max of 30 seconds so there is no need to speak to me. I digress, that's another letter all together.
One day, you will push too far and then you'll see.
Love Always,
Giulia

PS. Just to clarify, I realize the stupidity in taking an elevator to the gym but it's the only way to get to my gym. Really I would take the stairs and get that extra minute of cardio if I could but the only steps available lead to an emergency exit that has an alarm. I am not lazy! Stop calling me lazy!

Dear Random rocker who "MySpaced" me,

I know that MySpace is a social networking site where you can meet new people and connect and blah blah blah but sorry, I do not create friendships with robots. Meaning I do not accept folks like you who send out lame form letters like the one pasted here that are so obviously generated by the masses and sent blindly to as many people in the area in which you are promoting yourself.

Hi Giulia !!

How are you doing ??

I´m a professional guitar player from Brazil, and I´m planning a New York tour to divulgate my album. I´m working with a NY´s Entertainment Company that is making my management.

I would like to invite you to take a look in my material, and if you like, I´ll be very glad with your presence in my shows !!!

Hugs !



I deleted your name as I do not believe in defamation but I wanted to share your letter just to pint out a few do's and don't's of MySpace musician /band solicitations.

1) Do not ask "how are you doing?" What would you do if everyone actually replied to your stupid letter telling you exactly how they are doing? Would you cancel your big New York City tour to respond to the flood of feelings shared? Do you really care how I am doing or do you care how I am doing while at your super cool guitar show?

2) Do not use words like "divulgate." Not sure if it was you or your Babblefish translator that picked such a non-rock n' roll word to use instead of the more common word "promote" but it made my skin crawl. I can only imagine what your song lyrics are like.

3) Do not try to woo me with mention of "NY's entertainment company that is making your management." I am not impressed. Go to Craiglist and you will find a zillion "NY entertainment companies" with a boner to "make management" for any shlump dumb enough to sign up for their "entertainment" seminar, management program, agency fee, scam, etc, etc. And not to harp on your terrible language skills, but come on. As the daughter of two immigrants I am totally understanding of peeps with poor English, but my parents aren't on MySpace annoying folks with their poor English, they just annoy waitresses and telemarketers with their poor English. I mean really did Borat write this letter? Are you pulling a wacky Borat impression on me? I hear Borat impressions are really original these days.

4) Do not say "if you like, I’ll be very glad with your presence in my shows!!!" I would not like, so does that mean you won't be glad? Because the way you phrased it you are saying it's up to me if you can be glad and frankly that's a hefty decision for a stranger to make. You are already asking me to be your fake cyber friend, come to your show and now you are asking me to decide the fate of your happiness? You move fast in relationships huh?

5) If you are a rockstar do not, I repeat DO NOT sign your messages "hugs." It's not very hardcore and it's a lie. When is this hug supposed to take place? After I "look at your material" or before I decide if I would like you to be happy? We are not hugging. Never.


Look I am all for uniting the world, making peace, and boosting our broken adolescent egos via the magical world of internet friendship networking sites, but I cannot accept tackles, friend hungry, self-promoting, wanna-be rockers with terrible grammar. Even in fake friendships I have my standards.
Now please, there is big Hollywood producer who is going to agent my career and you if you wish, check out my comedy videos and make nice with my funny or I cry. Neck kisses and butt squeezes!!!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Tyra, (yet again- letter #4)

I am officially smitten with you and how you have managed to manipulate a country into loving your talk show ( myself included).

It used to be that I’d see one of your many absurd actions by accident: you happen to be on the cross trainer at the gym, you happen to be on the TV at the mechanics waiting room, your show clips happen to be on and mocked mercilessly on every pop culture TV show/blog/site. But now it’s not chance that I see you Tyra, it’s an obsession. I have begun to Tivo you Tyra. Yes, Tyra is on my Tivo. Tivo Tyra, I am a Tyra Tivo-er. A “TT” if you will.


I have a Tyrallimia, a condition in which one binges on the Tyra show's occasional stupidity and then purges what they saw in the form of angered and amusing blog posts.

And you, you have a disorder Tyra, it's called Contradictorexia. You need to eat something to cure it, a slice of humble pie perhaps?

Let me back track a bit here and review the week past which will explain why I am now a Tyra-holic.

It all began with the flood of controversy surrounding your alleged weight gain. Tabloids exposed a fuller Tyra in a swimsuit with witty headlines like “America’s Next Top Waddle.” While I was saddened by how disgusting trashy tabloids can be I was not surprised (hence why they are called trashy tabloids). As long as readers ( i.e.: almost every woman I see in the gym, doctors waiting rooms, on the beach, etc etc) keep buying and reading this shit, publishers will keep producing it. It’s gross, it’s infuriating, and it’s partially our own fault.

But I digress.

So as anyone under cruel media attack and with their own TV show would do, you went on air in that same swimsuit and defended your curves as seen in this clip below




“Kiss my fat ass?” Okay. The ass that later in the same episode you introduced a plus size model named Mia and a very very thin model named Yael to discuss body image and the modeling industry. Whenever Mia spoke, you gave her time to complete her statement and receive gracious applause but whenever Yael spoke she was interrupted by you accusing her of being anorexic and having issues. Regardless of if Yael is anorexic or not, you would not let her speak just so you could prove what a crusader for women’s body image you are. How can we learn about these issues when you won’t give people a chance to discuss? Maybe the reason Yael is slowly starving herself to death is because no one ever listens to her!


This isn’t the first time you’ve cut your guests off with your own two cents. Yeah, I know it’s your show but it’s called a “talk” show. You’re like that friend who always has to one up everyone. It's as if a guest will say something and you always interject with something like “yeah I can relate, but you see my momma taught me to be strong and fierce and she’s here right now to give you a make-over! Give it up for my momma!!!!”
Then loud music plays, audience jumps up and down, cut to commercial for Hydroxycut.


Look Tyra, I’ve said it before and I will say it again I think you mean well but it sometimes comes out wrong. You cannot host and produce a talk show that takes a dump on the modeling industry and then you work in the modeling industry. You cannot host and produce a talk show that points a finger at how unreal images of women are portrayed on TV in magazines when you used to be one of those unreal images and you keep producing more unreal images on your other show America’s Next Top Model. You cannot host and produce a talk show that is suppose to empower women when your other show America’s Next Top Model strives on the insecurities, cat fights, and drama of women and where your panel of judges has dissected the bodies of countless contestants (do you remember telling Yoanna she needed to work on her stomach? Thin, lean Yoanna? Or what about the countless other women whose bodies you and your posse dissected on national television). You cannot host and produce a talk show that tries to be a warrior in the fight against eating disorders and then have a show like America’s Next Top Model that mocks eating disorders. In case you forgot this is the photo shoot and episode I am referring to:



Maybe you talk show is so overly anti-eating disorders becuase you felt guilty after receiving a letter from The National Association of Eating Disorders in response to that photo shoot (read it by clicking here)


Tyra, I want to be on your team I really really do but until you learn to practice what you preach I cannot be your BFF no matter how much I'd like to be so. If you could just admit that you’re sometimes contradictory and self-indulgent then I could get over it. Don't you care about us and our imaginary friendship?!

And real quick, off topic but I am not sure how I ever missed this magical Tyra moment:




Oh Ty, I'll see you tomorrow.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Readers,

I'm taking this week off from attacking, analyzing and sometimes admiring the douches and non-douches of the world. Believe it or not I have some off-line, real life things to attend to. I'll be back next week with a fist full of fury and funny, I promise. Check back February 5th.
Love always,
Giulia

Dear Las Vegas flyer hander-outers,

All I wanted to do was walk from the Bellagio to the Aladdin hotel to get an Ice Blended Mocha from The Coffee Bean yet in the short 4 minute jaunt across the street I was handed ( or at least you all attempted to hand me) flyer upon flyer advertising shows, buffets, and above all else sluts. You even hand the slut flyers to families. That's not fair to turn a once wholesome family trip to Las Vegas into an akward moment in which little Tommy is handed a slut flyer and has to ask "Mom, Dad what happens at Hot & Horny Tuesdays at Splash Lounge?"
While I find you to be so invasive and rude, for some reason whenever you try to hand me a flyer I always say "No thanks." Why am I being polite? Why am I saying " thanks"? I am not thankful. Nope, not even the slightest bit.
I I would love to stand in front of you douches and hand you flyers that say " Stop flyering!" What would happen? Would you hand me a flyer as I tried to hand you a flyer? Would you say "No thanks" to my flyer offer as I said "No thanks" to your flyer offer? Would we have a flyer showdown?
Scratch that, I would not love to stand in front of you douches and hand you flyers because then I couldn't get my Iced Mocha, or gamble my big $20 at blackjack, or stuff myself at the brunch buffett, or drink five watered down casino cocktails.
Now please leave me alone as I enjoy the Bellagio water fountain spectacular. Thank you. No, not thankyou. I did it again. I meant fuck off.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Lady wearing a plush birthday cake hat,

For a while my fight to Vegas last night was so damn rocky and rough that I thought for sure my high sodium, gas inducing airport Chinese food was going to fly out of stomach and onto you and your birthday cake hat in front of me. Yes, you a 40 year old+ woman wore one of those stupid plush birthday cake shaped top hats in public! You also wore mardi gras beads with dollar signs on them. I get it, you are going to Vegas for your birthday, hopefully when you blow out you candles you'll make a wish that you won't be such a social retard on your next b-day.
I'd like to think God was angry at how stupid you looked with that hat hence the near 30 minutes of nasty turbulance, I actually took out my journal and wrote a goodbye note to my family and friends letting them know how bad the turbulance was and that I loved them. I later realized that should the plane have crashed not only I would I be toast but so would my journal and goodbye note.
Oh turbulance, you make do the wackiest things.
When we landed the captain got on the loud speaker to welcome us to Vegas and also said "also just want to let you folks know we have a very special birthday girl on board this evening, be sure to wish her a happy birthday on your way out."
Oh do we? Oh do we have a birthday on board? I had no idea what, is it perhaps the grinning over-sized infant with the birthday cake hat? And girl? Birthday girl? No, it's a birthday woman, a grown woman.
Instead of birhday wishes, I wished someone actually lit the candles on her hat.
I know, I know, it's not fair for me to rain on your parade. Your dorky, birthday cake hat parade but I just don't get why some people are okay with looking really dumb and unattractive. You have potential lady, everyone does. Step one: lose the gosh darn cake cap.
Step two: There isn't one, just lose the fucking hat.

Love Always,
Giulia

ps. the image used here was found n a site for PRE-SCHOOL toys, yes for PRE-SCHOOLERS. Like children, not ladies.

Dear Giulia,

No offense, your letters were pretty lame this week. It's not your fault, your mnd has been elsewhere and you just didn't really encounter that many douchebags lately. (Probably because you didn't leave the house all that much.)
Sometimes I wish we knew more about politics and stuff, it seems politicians tend to do alot of douchey things which would be great to write letters about.
Maybe someday. Till then, let's hope somebody slams a door in your face or a celeb says something dumb or else this here site will become a collection of letters to yourself! Writing letters on the internet to yourself? Well, that's just crazy talk.
Love always,
Giulia

Dear Winter,

Yes, just a few days ago I was concerned that you hadn't yet appeared, but now that you are here I'd prefer you go back to where you came from!
My apologies for the premature invitation, I actually do not feel like hanging with you anymore. I'm just not that into you.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Yahoo,

Are you that desperate for website content ideas that you provided the following "how-to" piece today or are there actually people who are so dumb they don't know how to leave a phone message?
Oh boy.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Wide leg subway sitters,

Really, must you sit with your legs spread open when subway seats already breed uncomfortable stranger to stranger contact? Everyday, without fail one of you big turds takes their seat on the subway with their manly legs taking up as much space as possible. Cross your legs? You can't even fathom the though of such dainty behavior, after all you are a big, strong legged man, a big man who didn't give his seat up for a women carrying a kid.
Secretly I enjoy it when you sit beside me. Conflict thrills me and I feel it is my duty to nudge, poke, hit, your knees and calves every few minutes to remind you that you are in fact a douche. You bury your face deeper into your paper to avoid making eye contact with those with whom you've stolen thier personal space. I want to report your obnoxious space-taking legs to transit control, they are after all an unattended package. A large, sweaty package unattentive to other peoples needs.
Honestly, do your nuts really need 15 minutes of air time?
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Winter,

Where are you? Not that I don't love wearing skirts and tee's but I'm scared and confused.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Couple asking for change on the F train,

You are a very cute pair: one dude in a wheelchair rythmically shaking his cup full o' change while the other pushed the chair through the cars. I think you would have gotten more sympathy had the one pushing the chair not been listening to his Ipod. Call me crazy but I just don't feel right donating my limited funds to a douchey duo rocking expensive electronics.
I hope the change those two chumps across from me gave you are enough to buy you at least one song off I-Tunes.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Mr. Blackwell,

Why are your opinions so news worthy?
Frankly Mr Blackwell, I don't like your scarf so there.
Hmph how'd that feel?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear "Knotties",

I have been spending lots of time on a little ol' website called The Knot not because I am seeking wedding tips but because I am utterly facinated.
This site created for brides to be (because after all it’s the brides job to plan every detail of HER wedding) is full of info, ideas and a message board.
Now I totally understand posting queries of "anyone know of a good florist" or "I need advice on shoes." The women who use the message board for bridal planning advice are cool. But as I read further into this bridal bulletin board I was stunned and amazed by the insane cyber-world of "knotties" ( yes you call yourselves knotties, pardon while I remove the vomit from my chin).
There are boards dedicated to those of you "not engaged (yet)" in which a few bridal hopefuls posted their dreams and fantasies pertaining to their imaginary wedding. There were hundreds of posts from you brides who got married over 3 years ago still posting on a bridal website! Now I am not sure what is worst, a woman desperately planning her fake wedding or a women who already had her wedding still grasping onto her special day.
The saddest thing on the boards was the amount of pure bitchiness. Countless upon countless replies from a group of bully knotties who insult other women who either new to the boards or are not sap brides ( ie: women who are independent, strong, intelligent, honest). You bitchy knotties spend all day posting caddy comments to other women on the board, making fun of other women on the board, dazzling up your lame profiles with stupid glitter graphics and photos of you in your ugly gown. Perhaps you douchebags should spend less time on The Knot and more time fucking your husbands.
Believe it or not ladies, there is more to life than your wedding.
Love Always,
Giulia

PS. NOTE TO ANYONE WHO HAS NEVER BEEN ON THEKNOT.COM if you can stomach it, please take a peek at the boards. My letter does not do its insanity justice. You must see it for yourself.

Dear Couple at Naidres (letter #2)

(Please read yesterdays letter to understand today's letter)
Not sure if you were reading my dear douchebag letter over my shoulder. Maybe you are an avid dear douchebag reader. Maybe you saw me fold my arms and pout as my laptop gave up the battery power fight. Regardless, you asked me if I'd like to share one of your TWO tables. While my hope was that you two would have shared a table seeing as though you were probably going to be sharing some woopie making later on that night, I will take what I can get.
Way to go guys!
Lesson learned, don't judge a potential douche by thier cover. Well by thier covering of TWO tables.
There is hope afterall.
Love Always,
Giulia
PS. Sorry I threatened to pour hot coffee on you.

Dear couple taking up two tables at Naidre's,

There is a huge and justified sign hanging on the wall behind me that asks patrons of the lovely Naidres in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn to PLEASE share table space so that others can sit. Meanwhile you two fucktards are sitting at your own table each ( the only two tables near a power outlet might I add). You have all your shit sprawled out on TWO tables! You discuss education and writing your books across your TWO tables as my poor little laptop hangs on to whatever minimal battery power it can muster.
Maybe you can't read which leads me to beleive the book you are writing is not going to be that great. Unless it's a book about how to share love between two total and utter douchebags. It'll be called "Douche love, the story of making you and your d-bags relationship work in current times."
Eat me you losers.
In an effort to difuse my growing violent fantasies of you choking on your sandwhich at the same time, like lovers should, I decided to try and acknowledge the situation. Perhaps you have no idea that you are being assholes. Perhaps in addition to being illiterate you are also blind and cannot see the patrons wandering the cafe, clutching thier newpapers, manuscripts and paninis looking for a spot to claim. So with the assumption that you are simply disabled becuase no one wouild be so rude I ask if I may plug in well knowing my cord was too short to reach across your lame intellectual love fest. ( Passive aggressive perhaps, but what do you expect from a chick who, when angered writes website letters to people? Letters that they probably won't ever even see?)
When my cord did not reach I assumed you'd decide to share a table so I could have one of the TWO fucking tables near the power outlet. You did not offer. I asked "oh are you by any chance leaving soon? " To which you sneered "no!"
I will never find logic in blatent disregard for other peoples feelings.
Share a fucking table assholes or my hot coffee may just have the pleasure of attacking your faces. Your choice.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Wesley Autry,

(WARNING: THIS IS A LOVE LETTER! A CYBER HUG. THIS IS PART OF MY NEW EFFORT TO DEDICATE ONE LETTER A WEEK TO THOSE DISPLAYING GORGEOUS ACTS OF HUMAN KINDNESS. SO IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR SOME NASTY BOO-HA TODAY, YOU"VE COME TO THE WRONG PLACE.)

You are a rockstar! A phenomenal bundle of compassion and strength. You rescued a man, Cameron Hollopeter who had fallen on the tracks as he had a seizure. You jumped down to the tracks and covered him while a train ran above you. You took a risk to help a fellow human and survived.
You are magic.
May goodness, joy and love embrace you Mr. Autry. We should all strive to be everyday heroes like you.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear fascistwhispering@hamptonroadshost.net

Lately I have been getting a lot of spam from myself? Somehow you and your robot pals are able to take peoples email addresses and make them the "from" in mailboxes but when the message is opened it's from a creep long retarded email address (like the one above I copied and pasted from a recent junk box delight).
Here's the thing. Why are you emailing from me? Don't you think I'd know if I emailed myself? And why would I email myself? I mean, I am obsessed with the Internet but not desperate enough to send myself messages in an effort to avoid an empty inbox. And the titles of your emails are things I would never write like "XML sites for your interest" and "Elizabeth New Year."
For realzy spammers, I get that you have to do your douchebag bizzyness but have you gotten so lazy that you can't think of fake names an must steal the names of others? Really the forceful, invasive, cowardly telemarketing industry has become a bunch of shitty sloths with automated recorded telemarketers disturbing your dinner instead of poor slubs with no soul. What happen to the good ol' days when a gal (me) could tell you to "fuck yourself and get a real job"? Now it's a freaky machine screaming "Hi I'm Jim, I've been looking through some papers and looks like your up to refinance your mortgage!" Really? Is it really my time Jim? Do you really have papers Jim? I don't have a mortgage Jim. I don't have a house Jim. I don't even have a savings account Jim. If that's your real name.
To boot you assholes have made robots loose their cool. I used to dig Small Wonder and Short Circuit but cause of you now I hate all robots. You've ruined for robots!
Number five is alive, and emailing me about discounted gambling sites.
Shit.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear People who don't reply to emails,

I'd like to believe that my initial email to you got lost, never went through or tragically fell victim to your junk box. The truth is some peeps simple don't care to correspond with me which (clearly because I am crazy) just makes me want to email you people even more.
Sadly with all the communication technology out there we are blessed/burdened with endless excuses of why we do not respond: "my cell has been acting up" or "oh my computer sucks" or "I hate you."
The worst of al of these techno whatnots being MySpace mail, in which when a message is sent it allows the sender (me) to see that the recipient (you) has in fact read my message but has chosen not to grace me with a note back.This being perhaps the thing that pierces open my adolescent wounds most.
I just have a hard time believing somebody could dislike me. ( because not having time or remembering to reply to an email obvioulsy means I am disliked. Ahem, somebody needs to get over the fact that she had a horrific bully best friend in 9th grade who destroyed her self-esteem).
I know I must consider that perhaps you all have better things to do then be online all day. You are probably busy doing other things like stealing candy from babies and making left turns without using your signal. I know your type ( but that's the type I wanted to see. Get it like I know your type of person but I want to see your type as in typing me an email. Haha! Good one right? Ha. No?)
Well, tis neither here not there. I hope that in 2007 I realize the world does not in fact revolve around me and that you people aren't banning together to all mark me as spam. I mean it's not like you are even thinking about me as much as I think about you?
But if you are reading this, my site, I guess you do think about me. Hmmmm?
Regardless, I wish that this lovely new year bring you nothing but an inbox illed with Nigerian bank fraud attempts, penis enlargement advertisements and announcements that your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend who broke your heart recently got married to somebody much better looking.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Ripsi,

You were the one who got me hooked on The Bad Girls Club, which I am okay with admiting is my new trashy obsession. I watched the above explosion, clutching a pillow whisphering "daammnn girl, damn." The punching, the screaming, throwing, I feel that too, except I punch with words, kick with html coding, and throw, well as you can tell clearly I throw some sweet site posts. I assume if I were to drink an entire of bottle of Tequilla, I may however change my tune and hit some actual humans. As in hit 'em up for some pizza and nachos, know what I'm saying?
Anyhoo, now you are gone and we can only hope that the other girls learn from your anger management stylings.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Starbucks,

I love your Christmas Blend brew. I love your red cups. These two simple pleasures give me such joy each year. I am not kidding, I really do adore your holiday flavors and colors. So when I woke up this morning and came into your store I was so very excited to see that Christmas Blend was on the chalk board as "now brewing" and there was a stack of red cups beside the register. I got a twang of thrilling glee in my soul. (It really takes so little to make me happy). So you can imagine my dismay when the frowny face barista informed me that you were out of Christmas Blend and "would you like House Blend instead?"
Choice-less I said "sure" knowing that while the blend may not be ideal, the rich red cup would provide half of the happiness I came into your store to purchase.
So now you can imagine my horror when my House Blend was handed to me in a WHITE CUP! Somehow, for some reason unfathomable to me I was given the only white cup in the shop! Out of all the dozens upon dozens of red cups dancing about your meca of merriment, I get my fucking bland brew in a bland white cup!
Is this a joke? Is Ashton Kutcher about to pop out from behind the velour cozy chair and tell me I am Punk'd? Is December 27th like April Fool's Day in the Starbucian heritage? Is this little sour pussed barista really a Girl Behaving Badly? Seriously Buckers, what the friggity-foo is going on here!?
I took the white cup with the House Blend and drank it as I held back my tears. Oh how I wanted to throw it in someone, anyone's face. I wanted to jump up and down and kick my feet like I used to when Daddy forget to get me my Happy Meal with pickles and ketchup only (yes, once upon a time I was afraid of mustard. I wanted to holler " You dildos really should erase the words Christmas Blend from the chalkboard before you destroy peoples dreams or are you too busy grooving out to this fucking John Legend cd that's been on repeat in here for the last two freaking months!?" I wanted to take every gosh darn Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer from the clearance shelf and hump them ( okay that one has nothing to do with your lack of Christmas Blend or red cups. Ooops. Ha. Ha. Ha?)
But no. I bit my tounge and went on my way. I mean I am back into yoga (but not enough to give up caffeine) and my heart center would not approve of such angered antics. I mean afterall it is something Christmas-related that I am getting so heated over and that just seems wrong.
Look Bucks, I love you and clearly I love your seasonal products so perhaps you could figure out a way to serve these two delights year-round. Well, okay perhaps not the blend. I get the marketing behind having a special holiday flavor. But those cups! I mean frankly, white cups are sooooooo Dunkin' Doughnuts anyhoo. Red cups exude warmth, style, class. The switch from red cups back to white is so shocking and cold.
But no need to make these changes just for little ol' me but if you could at least till New Years, hide the white cups. They scare me.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Chodes in Church,

I forced myself to stay up on Christmas eve so I could attend midnight mass only to be surrounded by dozens of loud preppy, white hat wearing "yeah dudes." You dinks come to church just to save face but spend the entire service giggling like little pre-pubescent boys who just saw their first real live tit. A few of you reeked of Jack Daniels. You punch fists, give your boyeeez head knods across the pews,and loudly whisper to one another news of your "wicked sweet new caaarrrrr."
Look, I go to church 4 maybe 5 times a year and I'd appreciate those few and far between visits to be silent and sacred. Isn't there a Dave and Busters you all can go and have your fatty fratty reunion at?
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Bus Santa,

I use a lot of web space complaining and pointing fingers on this here site. People do dumb things but just as many people do really nice things and I want to spread some cyber hugs to the folks who are the anti-douches. So once a week ( maybe more) I will post letters of praise to the folks who make living a little nicer and I am going to start withyou, the woman who handed out $50 to random people on buses in Spokane, Washington. You inspire me little lady, not only to do more nice things but do them without the expectation of credit and praise for my actions.
Thanks for making the holidays a little merrier for strangers.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Diddy, (again)

Wad up dawg? Literally, well your dog collar. I don't mean dog collar like attached to a leash I mean like fur collar made from a dog. Well, canine racoons. Yes Diddy, you were busted for selling jackets with "faux fur" collars at Macys that were actually made with dog fur. YUCK! That's ruff Diddle-doo-di or whatever you are calling yourself these days.
Well it's a good thing that this is all out in the open so that next time one of your homies asks "where my dogs at?" you can reply honestly.
Love Always,
Giulia
PS. Don't worry, if you invite me I guess I will still go to your white party in the Hamptons.

Dear Donald,

Instead of spending your money to pay legal fees and lawyers to sue Rosie why not feed a hungry kid? Hell, if you have so much damn money feed a village, a country?
This is all getting so ugly which is ironic as it's all caused by something that is suppose to be beautiful, Miss America. But really tis no suprise as the Miss America pagent breeds anger, disrespect, hate, jealousy, mean-ness the only difference is in the pagent its masked behind glossy white smiles and sashes. I say you two settle this by duking it out in a good ol' fashion swimsuit competetion.
Love Always,
Giulia
ps.
Chin up big Don everyone is a douche sometimes, like the fact that I even spent 5 minutes thinking about all of you makes me a pretty big D-bager. Know what I be sayin'?

Dear Tara,

Rehab? You need to go to rehab because you drank underage? Pa-lease if i had to go to rehab everytime I drank underage, I'd be...um....gosh can't think of a good joke here, probably because there is nothing funnier than the fact that you are ordered to go to rehab for drinking under-age!
I suppose it makes sense since drinking under-age drinking and promescuity is a disgrace to the Miss USA crown, but letting your na-na's hang out and winning a barbie contest is honorable. I think it's called Miss America cause the pagent industry Miss-ed what respecting women is all about.
Well cheers Tity, sorry I mean Tara, Tara! I'll drink one for you tonight.
Love Always,
Giulia
ps. Everybody, enough with the "fired" "not fired" jokes already, we get it.

Dear Butterfinger Chocolate Holiday Bells,

Get out of my mouth! I cannot stop and you keep unwrapping your sweet self and slipping down my throat. You are so damn good, you are bad.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Holidays,

I love you. With all your spirits and cheer I am feeling much too social and merry to write about douchebags. For the most part everyone starts to act pretty damn cool this time of year. I mean I'm sure I'll get mad about something sooner or later but for now I am taking the rest of this week off to down some nog and duck beneath mistletoe. I suggest everyone do the same.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Public Nail-clipper,

It takes a real classy fella to clip their nails as they walk down the street in Brooklyn. It takes an even classier guy to not even acknowledge that as he is clipping them so harshly his nasty, dirty finger nails go flying towards passer-bys ( ahem, me).
Seriously dude, get a room.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Bret Michaels,

So it's come to this huh?
Do you recall the photo (attached here on the left) of me and all my Poison paraphernalia I sent to you back in 1990 along with a letter professing my affections for you? I was obsessed with you and your very pretty pretty face. My poor immigrant mother was horrified by what she thought were pictures of manly looking women on my walls, but I didn't care, I was in love and my mother's lesbian misconcepted fears weren't going to stop me. What did stop me was my sudden switch from headbanger to pop music/hip hopper in 1992. I started to appreciate the smooth R & B sounds of Jodeci and wanted to impress my then crush whom was of African-American decent. When he called I made sure to casually ask him to hold putting the phone beside my pink boom box blasting "let me lick you up and down, till you say stop, let me play with your body baby, make you real hot."
But this letter isn't me trying to rub it in your face that I moved on when you ignored my letter and modeling portfolio it's about how you are about to star in a reality show to find true love when true love was staring at you in the face in August of 2001 (please refer to the attached photo on the right) Do you remember me? After over 10 years of giving up on you and me I still finageled my way backstage at the Poison concert in Worcester MA five years ago. As soon asyou hit the stage all those feelings came rushing back as you hollowed about not needing anything but a good time and dammit, I am a fucking good time. After sweet talking your cousin into getting me and my pal Margot backstage I got to sit on your lap like Santa Claus and tell you how awesome you were. I used the word awesome an estimated 47 times in five sentences and you sat there and just let me go on, I assume mezmerized by my charm. When your body guard singled that my time was up and their were either little girls waiting to ask you for a pony you looked into my eyes and said in your deep, booming voice " You're beautiful." I walked away and began to cry. Dreams do come true, even if it is 11 years later.

Backstage ( aka a parking lots full of trailers) was crawling with lame little "fans." Older chicks who had baked you diabetic cookies ( how cute) and that wanted you to sign their concert booklets ( adorable). Once those civilians left, your cousin invited me and Margs to stick around for the real rock star soiree. I was expecting the party to involve strippers and cocaine, but I was fine with sitting on your tour bus with Margot, your cousin, his friend, you and two passed out drunk girls on your bed.
I spent those could be magical 30 minutes over-explaining why I used the word awesome moments earlier and that I was not in fact the dork I made myself out to be and that I think you are great and that I sent you photos and asked if you got them and then took my hair and wrapped it around my forehead to indicate I used to have a uni-brow you may not recognize me from those old pics when I was going through puberty and was not yet introduced to tweezers and then when someone mentioned something about pot I made joke that I am anti-pot even though I was baked out of my skull and then I laughed hysterically at my own joke and then in an effort to redeem any lasting ounce of coolness I decide to interview you ala Tiger Beat style and ask "what was the craziest thing a fan has ever done to meet you?"
Before I knew it we were off your bus. I think I hugged you goodbye a little too long. One of the drunk corpse's woke up and you closed your trailer door I assume to have wild, rockstar sex.
I thanked your cousin for his hospitality by making out with him awkwardly in the parking lot thinking at least I got sexy with a member of your family and that's something.
So what I am saying Bret is, I am a bit disappointed that you had two chances at true love but yet you are choosing to go on national TV and have women throw themselves at you. I mean I guess I am taking this as you saying "no" to any chance of me and you. Right? Just want to be sure cause I am getting married next year and just want to be sure this "TV show" isn't a ply to make me jealous and then you are going to come crawling back.
Best of luck to you Bret, I am sure you're gonna find yourself a really classy broad this way.
Love Always, Giulia

PS. A year after our 2001 rendevous, I was working on a guitar show that featured Poison ( it never aired) and my producer had your number in her cell. She even left you a message in front of my face. I almost, ALMOST took her phone to get the number but I resisted. Looks this lil' lady has grown up quite a bit.

Dear Crazy Cab-driver #2,

Last night after you sped through a yellow light, the black man crossing the street put his hands in the air and said (not screamed) "slow down." To which you hollared " Shut-up Monkey!"

This is not the first time I have witnessed racist cabbies which makes me super sad and disgusted.
I hope you get locked in a cage with a real monkey, a big, angry, hungry gorilla that throws poo at you.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear H&M,

I love everything about you. Your chic fashion. Your affordable style. I love it all, except ( yes in love there is always an exception) your attempt to resurrect womens overalls. I walked into your heavenly gates today only to find three, yes three types of overalls for females on your wall. Perhaps they were for extraordinarily tall tots and were misplaced in the ladies section but I am most certain these farming frocks were for women.
Please H&M, don't go there. Don't go back to 1995 when overalls were wiggidy wiggdy wack. Bring on the babydolls, the sweater dresses, the skinny jeans and even the off-the shoulder 80's style tops, but for the love of all that is flattering and feminine don't bring cover-alls back.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Fergie Ferg,

First off let me say I do like the tune of your song London Bridge. It is in fact on my IPOD and it makes me bounce on the subway and want to punch like dancing punch. You know like "oomph yeah!" right? It's a good dance tune. Congrats.
The lyrics are another story. Why I am even analyzing dance song lyrics is a mystery to me as well. Ever since Get outta my Dreams get into my Car by Billy Ocean I gave up on finding meaning to pop songs. However I am particularly tickled by your words. I want to blast the song in my car but cannot condone the promotion of such non-sensical word play.
Just so I am clear your "London Bridge" are your panties? If this is true then the singular paired with plural is my first area of concern.
Secondly last night on the "Big in 06" awards you were introduced by Lance Bass saying " this song has made the London Bridge the most visited tourist site in London" (or something to that degree, my apologies for not getting it down on paper verbatim). I hate to be the one to break it you Ferg but the actual London Bridge is in Lake Havasu,AZ. The bridge you are standing in front of in your promo materials for "London Bridge" is actually the Tower Bridge in London. Boy oh boy, what a blunder. No worries though. I ain't no history buff myself.
Sorry, I didn't mean to be an a-hole, nit picking on the geography facts of a hit song.
Geographically correct or not, at least "London Bridge" has some spunk and Fergie, I like me some spunk. I do not however like it when people take their names and make them into songs like "Fergalicious." It just makes me uncomfortable. It also sounds creepingly like MC Hammers "Hammer Time." I hear it and immediately the two songs blend:

Fergalicious (Fergalicious)
But I ain't promiscuous
And if you was suspicious
All that shit is fictitious
I blow kisses (mmmwwahhh)
It's Hammer go Hammer MC Hammer Yo Hammer and the rest can go and play
Can't touch this (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) Can't touch this (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
But honestly none of this is really of bother to you. I just wanted to let you know about that London Bridge thing as I hate it when I say something only to later find out it was wrong and none of my friends corrected me. Not to say we are friends. I mean I'll gladly be your friend. OMG are we now friends? Let me know cause I am sending out my holiday cards soon and need to know if I should save one for Ferg, Fergie, Fergy Ferg, Fergalicious, or Stacey Fergerson. (Damn you are becoming the P-diddy/Diddy/Puffy/Puff Daddy/Sean Combs of white girls)

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Jimmy,

book
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

In 7th grade I really liked you and you said you like me, we frenched, and then you dumped me right after. I was pretty sad but continued to be obsessed with you for almost two years to follow. Yes, I was one of "those girls" the one who made their dads drive a certain way home so that I could try to sneak a peek in to your window. That girl who would call you and hang up when you answered. That girl who wrote about you almost everyday in her diary. I used to be embaressed about being that girl, but now that my diary, all about you, me, us is published in the Mortified book ( in bookstres TODAY!!!) I am proud to have been such a dorky wacko as I now join dozens of other dorky wackos featured in one of the funniest books I have ever seen.
Jimmy, thank you so much for being so mean to me and giving me such ridculousness to write about. I hope you are still a slimy Greek cheeseball.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Giulia,

So you haven't written much in the past few days. Totally understandable, it was Thanksgiving weekend. This does not make you a douche.
You got completely trashed on Saturday night. Totally understandable, it was your highschool reuinon. This does not make you a douche.
However on your way to a post-reuinon party you peed on a residential street in your hometown. Um, that's not so understandable. Actually it's pretty tasteless you silly ol' D.
At least your hair looked good.
Love Always,

Giulia

Dear Tyra (letter #3),

Here we go again.

Let me start by thanking you for helping me loose weight. For some reason whenever I am at the gym your show is on and I end up watching it because it makes me work out harder, faster with gusto and speed, fueled by rage. So, right on Ms Banks at least some good is coming out your 60 minutes of fluff.

As far as content of your program goes, please stop doing shows about body image! I get what you are trying to do. Keyword: TRYING. You try to be a crusader but your battle cry reeks of contradiction.
Yesterdays stink was called Do I Look Fat? in which you had women on the show with body dysmorphic issues. Alright, cool. It was nice that you wanted to help these women love their bodies.Fine.
Then you had an "eye-opening experiment" in which you showed a group of women and a group of men images of womens bodies, large, small and everything in between. The women said things like "she looks disgusting" and "she shouldn't be wearing that" while the men said that confidence was sexy and they "liked more cushion for the pushing." The boys got a bravo from you while the ladies comments were considered rude.
Okay, hold up one second. I'm sorry but you showed images of obese women in thongs and frankly I think most people would agree that few people look really good in thongs, let alone a large woman being shoved into dental floss. How is it rude to suggest a woman wear something made fro her body shape? It's not rude, its actually helpful. As a short, curvy gal I have learned that crop tops and tight waisted jeans don't exactly flatter my figure. Does this mean I hate my body? Absolutely not, it means I love and respect my body because I am not turning my soft, smooth, gorgeous belly into a muffin top. Yes Tyra, fat hanging over the sides of a tight fabric looks disgusting. Female fat, male fat, animal fat, whatever fat. If it's squeezed, pushed, or packed in it looks gross. If this makes me "rude" then fine but at least I am dressed properly.
As for the men getting gold stars for liking the meatier chicks, how is this a positive thing? Why can't people just be attracted to whomever they want? What about skinny chicks? Do you this part of the "expose" makes them feel good?
My favorite part of the show was when a woman on stage said "there are so many images of perfect women on TV and in magazines and it makes regular women want to look like that and we can't" to which you replied with something along the lines of " yeah I know, I look at my airbrushed photos and I get jealous of myself"
WHAT?! You can't agree that airbrushing causes women to be image obsessed and then go ahead and get your photos airbrushed! And then to say you are jealous of yourself? WHAT? Sorry, what I meant to say was WHAT?! If you think it's so wrong then don't get your photos airbrushed. Don't give into an industry, feel guilty about it and then do a show about how wrong that industry is.
Tyra, PA-LEASE pick one, activist or airbrushee. You cannot be both no matter how many times you hug women and whisper "you are fierce" in their ears.
Oh Tyra, you almost got it. I'll try to be patient as you figure it out.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Michael Richards,

I am very sorry for calling you Kramer when I saw you at the Knitting Factory in Hollywood back in 2003. I had met you a few weeks prior at the Comedy Store after I followed your interesting rant about dogs and leashes. You introduced yourself as Michael Richards, shook my hand and we chatted very briefly. You probably don't recall the exchange. I do recall you were very polite. Then a few weeks later, as I walked into the women’s restroom of the Knitting Factory I saw you.

Me: "Heyyyyy!"
You: " Heyyyyy!" (smiling)
Me: "I met you a few weeks ago at the Comedy Store, good to see you!"
You: "Yeah! Alright"
Me: " Have a great night Kramer"
You: "Okay" (walking quickly into the restroom)
My boyfriend: "GIULIA! You just called him Kramer!"
Me: " No I didn't, I called him Michael. I met him a few weeks ago. Remember?"
My boyfriend: "Well, you just called him Kramer."
Me: "No. Really? Oh no. Did I?"
My boyfriend: "Yeah, you did"
Me:"Shit"

I share this story in light of your little burst of crazy the other night at the Laugh Factory in to prove a point. Now, we all (yourself included) already know that what you did was really really dumb. I mean, websites, blogs, news channels, TV shows, radio programs, newspapers, magazines, all know what you did was dumb. Like everyone is clearly aware that it was dumb. We get it, it was really really dumb. Like dumb. But this is not a letter reinforcing how douchey your behavior was, this is letter reinforcing that constantly calling an actor by their TV character name does in fact drive them loopy.

Every news piece that has talked about your incident has called you Kramer.
"Kramer gets crazy"
"Kramer goes koo koo"
"Is Kramer in the KKK?"

Guess what, Kramer didn't do anything. Kramer is a wacky neighbor on a sitcom, Michael Richards is a comic who lost his cool and crossed a line. It's like no matter what you do, good or bad, Kramer gets the credit.

Alright look, as a person who has dealt with my a few hecklers in my day I understand how being screamed at while trying to tell jokes can drive a performer to the edge. Everyone has insecurities and comics choose to put those insecurities on blast every night and to have someone yelling at you, well it's like pouring alcohol over those exposed wounds. And no, that doesn't give you the right to go and scream racial slurs at people ( often my aproach to hecklers is tearing up and saying " Please don't hurt my feelings" not sure that would work for you though.)
While I may understand the anger that hecklers ignite. I do not understand what it must be like to be referred to by your TV character name for the rest of your life. (But I will gladly experience that if anyone reading this wants to make me a TV character). And while you chose to be a performer, thus taking the chance of loosing your identity in the characters you portray I do think that before we write you off as a complete asshole we first and for most call you by your proper name.
Maybe this letter should be to the media and not to you. Or maybe this letter is silly since you may actually like being called Kramer and thus my point is not valid. Anyhoo, what I am trying to say is I am sorry I called you Kramer and I hope this is not my fault. This is also a way of me saying I think everything somehow relates to me and I hope that I had a part in something dramatic and pop-cultury.
Oh celebrity-hood, the things you do to us.


Love Always,
Giulia

ps. Wait a second, are you friends with this chick?

Dear Everyone obsessed with Tom and Katies wedding,

I get it - they are Scientologists and had a big wedding. Let's get over it now, shall we?

Honestly why aren't we talking about the more interesting Tom Cat? The one that is always chasing Jerry. Now that's an interesting love affair.For over 60 years they've been playing hard to get and they never look old, talk about a Hollywood power couple!

Perhaps you folks should spend a little more time making yourselves seem lovable on your E-Harmony profile instead of wetting yourselves over the Cruise/Holmes union.

Love Always,
Giulia


PS. For those of you who know my history with cats, you may be questioning the sincerity of my professed admiration for Tom of Tom & Jerry, understand that Tom is a harmless cartoon cat not a viciously creepy animal therefore in my book he is cool. You may even say a cool cat.

Dear OJ, Fox and Humankind (again)

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhh, I am still mad from yesterday. Thanks for hindering my abilty to write about other a-holes and blocking my creativity.

Damn you,
Giulia

Dear OJ or Fox or Humankind,

Just when I thought things were looking up for the country, I have found yet another reason to rock back n' forth crying as I read my morning paper. Now normally I limit my bitching to once a day but I am appalled, disgusted, shocked, embarrassed, horrified and scared over the fact that OJ Simpson is going to give an interview on FOX about how he would have committed the murders. No fucking lie, this is for real?
I am not sure who I am more terrified by, OJ for being an evil, wife-beating, pycho. Fox News for actually allowing such filth on air. Or the people that you know will watch this atrocity. While I am all for driving slow by car wrecks, I will not watch this shit and I implore others to do the same. Media is supply and demand and apparently America is hungry for a good "I killed two innocent people and got away with it" story.
We sit around and point fingers at the inhumane actions made by those in other countries yet we bathe ourselves in glorified shit as long as it comes out of the assholes of celebrities or pop icons. And while the constant barrade of tabloids and gossip smothers us daily, but allowing OJ to discuss how he "would have" killed and the fact that he has a $3.5 million book deal is beyond the final straw. OJ Simpson is profiting from murder and we are the ones who let it happen. Why the fuck are people still interested in this shmuck anyway? Are our lives so damn pathetic that the life of a murdering football has-been is a constant item of interest? OJ Simpson belongs in jail, not on our book shelves or TV.

Nauseated Always,
Giulia

Dear Roman Catholic Bishops,

I think it's great that you are making an attempt to reach out to gays. I realize it's going to take time to try to change years and years of strict thinking. However saying "it's not a sin to be attracted to someone of the same sex -- only to act on those feelings" sort of throws everything for a loop. I guess that's why I'm often attracted to the idea of going to church every Sunday-- but rarely act on those feelings.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Website,

While I have never claimed to be a pioneer in the use of the word douchebag I was surprised to see just how many blogs are dedicating themselves to douches of the world. From a very simple google search I discovered the popular www.bestweekever.tv and qwww.gawker.com each have their own "douche of the day" type of blog post as well as various other lesser known sites like www.bigdouchebag.com, www.douchebagoftheweek.blogspot.com and www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com.
I guess creating a site called " Dear Douchebag" means I up the cool and hip trends? (Unlike in 7th grade when I got what I thought was a "cool" new Contempo Casuals tie-dyed reversible bubble jacket) But screw trends, I wanted to create a place where I can bitch, point, laugh, stomp my feet and invite others to do the same and now I am feeling like a douche for over-using the word douche.
Besides, do I really want to associate my name with the word "douchebag"? Well, yes for now. I guess. Oh life is so hard.
This site was born during a solo debate over the idiocracy of the term douchebag. If you scroll down to my very first entry I admit my co-current distain for the word along with my secret attraction toward it's stupidity. I thought the preface of the "Dear" added a bit of charm, class, sensitivity. A way to say " baby I ain't mad at you" before I smacked that baby in the face.
Often when something becomes too popular I tend to shy away from it. Like as soon as I found out everyone else also loved Mike Seaver I took a liking to his best friend Boner. ( Note to frequent readers: Yes, I realize this is in fact the second reference to the Growing Pains character Boner in the past week. Lay off). But I am going to stick with Dear Douche. The name douche may be overdone but I make an effort to call people assholes, pricks, meanies, jerk-offs, and lame-os on this site as well. You know, spice things up. So until another double-consonant site name rings bells in my ears ( Dear Do-Do, Dear Donkey, Dear Dumbo, Dear Dickweed, Dear Diarrhea Face, Dear Dink...) Dear Douche you shall remain, but of course I am open to suggestions.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Yahoo,

All you gave me today were 12 spam messages and a newsletter. Are you keeping all those emails from my friends and admirers away from me? It feels like 1992 and I got on my black Z. Cavaricci pants and my B.U.M. sweatshirt, but no one is calling to invite me to the mall.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Vanessa Minnillo,

Enough with playing dress-up.

In yet another pathetic attempt to break social barriers, the highly respectable and conscious news program Entertainment Tonight once again shoved you into a fugly face and filmed you prancing about New York City in hopes of controversial reactions.

Entertainment Tonight explained revealing a mind-blowing fact “Research states that the world favors pretty people.Vanessa Minnillo puts the theory to the test by going undercover as "Beautiful Joy" and "Ugly Joy."

So they turned you, a gorgeous hard-hitting “journalist” into a puffy, acne-covered drag-queen aka “Ugly Joy”. When you first saw yourself in the mirror you began to weep claiming that you were already nervous at how mean people would be to you. The slow piano music accompanying your emotional outbreak indicated to us, the viewers that being ugly is in fact a truly difficult thing.

Now, the “test.” You strolled through the streets and rode the subway hoping to get reactions of distain to prove to America that ugly people are looked at funny (something that apparently we needed to be made aware of). And yes, people did stare. People stared and you and YOUR CAMERA CREW. Yup, shocker. People do in fact stare down folks in stupid costumes that are being followed by a video camera. Didn’t you already prove this when you wore that fat suit?

Just when I thought that I just lost three minutes of my life I will never get back only to watch this pointless yet humorous piece of horse caca you spoke to an expert who “analyzed” the footage to confirm that yes, indeed people stare at ugly people as a form of “looksism”. Vanessa, do me huge favor and pa-lease let me know you all need experts to “analyze” footage in the future, I like to call myself an expert in analyzing douchey behavior in watching last nights footage I can confirm that putting pretty girls in ugly suits is a form of douchism.

Oh and by the by, perhaps using a real live actual “ ugly” chick would prove more genuine results next time. Dressing up as an “ugly” chick doesn’t comfort the less attractive people of this world, it probably insults them. What’s next? Perhaps we shall soon see you in black-face in a social experiment to see if people are racist toward African Americans?

If I could, I would watch you again tomorrow but I already have plans to shove my face into a hot oven. Bummer, cause tonight should be a good one when they turn you into “Pretty Joy” a stunning blond in stilettos set out into those mean streets again to shock viewers and prove that people (especially men) like pretty girls. You know what would be more shocking? Putting something on TV that actually mattered.

Love Always,
Giulia

PS. If the above hyperlink for "you wore that fat suit" is being flaky please type http://giuliaiscuteandcheap.blogspot.com/2006/02/big-news.html into your browser

Dear Donald Rumsfeld,Ted Hagard and Kevin Federline,

Now that you all are leaving your jobs:

Donny,is leaving his position as secretary of offense. I mean defense


Teddy Haggard is leaving his position as a hateful lying reverend


Kevy is leaving his position as a money and fame hoarding social blemish

will you all continue to practice intense douchism in your spare time or was it just an occupational hazard?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Registered voters who aren't voting today,

66344_shirt_ladies
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Once upon a time a young political hopeful wanted to be elected to her Junior High’s student council. She and her unofficial campaign manager came up with catchy campaign slogans of “Giulia for student council, she’s going to rule-ya!” and “Vote for Giulia, she’s coolia to rule the schoolia.”


She and her friend spent hours taping little “vote for Giulia” stickers on sticks of gum which she later handed out to her fellow classmates in hopes they’d give her their vote. (Instead most kids just gave her a hard time demanding second and third pieces of gum).


And while this little girl lost the election two years in a row, finally getting the hint in eighth grade that she was not in fact “coolia.” But, even though she lost the elections, she did win the belief that voting is important, even if it makes the loser feel like horse poop.


I find it hard to believe there are actually any of you out there. I mean in this day in age, who what American citizen would not vote?
But just in case, I thought I'd write you a note to let you know your non-voting behavior is rather douchey. I realize ads such as the one of Mariah may actually be a turn-off to the voting process, I mean with the implication that one must stick out their boobies and un-button their pants before stepping into the ballot. But fear not, you can keep your knickers on at the polls. Or if going sans slacks will get you to vote, then go bottomless (although I'm not sure you'll be allowed in) In any case just go vote.


Even if you just go, get your ballot and entertain yourself by filling in the names of old sitcom characters in the "write-in candidate" section. ( Felipe Gomez for governor, Mrs. Rossini for lieutenant governor, Richard 'Boner' Stabone for treasurer) just go vote!
You have the power to decide who will “rule-ya!”

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear John Koort & Harmodio Cruz,

I realize this is old news but this needs to be addressed and publicized until situations as such stop. Perhaps I just missed the memo or this didn't get the press in deserved but it wasn't until I read an article pasted on the wall of the Bergen Street subway station this weekend that I learned about the
subway station rape that happen this summer. The rape that you both witnessed but did not try to stop.
My apologies, you each pushed panic buttons. That was real brave. Meanwhile there is a sicko pushing himself ontop of an innocent woman. How is it that when I, a 5'4 girl, even see some punk look at a lady the wrong way, I linger, mentally preparing myself to assist if needed but you two morons did nothing but push a damn button! I am saddened, disgusted, and scared to here of such inhumane behavior both from the rapist and the cowardly bystanders. You justified your actions claiming that it is against MTA policy to exit your booth/train to help but I would hope that the MTA would have understood that you left your cage to help stop a rape, not to go buy a doughnut. And if the MTA would not have pardoned your attempt to HELP ANOTHER PERSON then why work for such a fucked up company?
I wish the victim the best of luck in suing the MTA. May the unfortunate experience encourage the MTA and it's employees to practice more logical and compassionate behavior.
I wish you the best of luck in growing some balls.
Love Always,
Giulia


PS. Readers, please click www.rightrides.org for info on an amazing organization that offers free, safe rides home for women in NYC.
and click www.girlsfightback.com for safety tips, resources and class on how to kick some serious douchebag ass.

Dear Bill Maher,

Bill Maher as Steve Irwin
Originally uploaded by PetroleumJelliffe.

I think I will be you for Halloween next year, assuming I can find a heartless, tastless, unattractive douchebag costume somewhere.
Love Always,
Giulia

ps. Is apologize really spelled apologise in New Zealand?

Dear Douche on the MBTA #78 bus yesterday at 6:06 pm,

Last night while riding the bus I decided to call my mother. I spoke at a courteous tone as not to disturb my fellow passengers even though the bus was fairly loud to start with various conversations and other phone calls in occurrence.
As I finished up my phone call you, seated in front of me, stretch your arms back waving a piece of paper in my face with your hands touching my nose. I hung up with my mom and tapped you on the shoulder and kindly asked
“Excuse me, but your hands are in my face do you mind moving them."
To which you replied
“Well do you mind? You were talking in my ear”
Oh it’s on.
In case you have forgotten, we then went on the have the following exchange

Me: “Oh, well, you could have turned around and asked me to keep it down or moved seats, you don’t need to put your hands in my face, that’s rude”

Dickface: “ Well you are rude!”

Adorable me: “Hey, I can talk on my phone whenever I want, don’t tell me what to do!”

Fart muncher: “Actually there are signs that say no cell phones (turns to find signs) Okay, well there are usually sings on the bus, not this bus, but I have seen signs that say no cell phones”

Sweet innocent me: “ What’s the difference if I talk on my cell or to my neighbor? There are lots of people talking on the bus right now, perhaps you should walk around and tell them all to shut up”

Sexless prick: “Maybe you should shut-up”

Kind-hearted compassionate me: “Don’t you tell me to shut-up and don’t you ever put your fucking hands in my face. You are like what 50, 60 years old? You are an old man and you are going to start a fight with a young lady. I feel sorry for you.”

Adolescent minded shitbag: “Well I feel sorry for you”

“Good one, what are you 12 years old? Stop talking to me asshole”

Caca face: “You’re ignorant”

At this point I took out my cell and called my sister to tell her that I was sitting behind a fucking jerk who almost punched me. That’s when you got up in a huff to tattle to the bus driver on me. The bus driver could have cared less. Everyone was staring at you. Everyone could smell how pathetic you were. You got off at the next stop yelling “Goodnight Ignoramus!” to me as you exited.
That was a good one. Ignoramus. Maybe I will start a new site called “Dear Ignoramus.” It’ll be hip and cool. All the kiddies will love it. Ignoramus is a very cool and insulting word. Nice job fucko.
My only query to you is, are you always this immaturely passive aggressive? And if so, how do you handle other noisy situations? If somebody’s Ipod is too loud on the subway do you flick snot at them? If a baby is crying at a restaurant do you wiggle your butt in their face? If a car alarm is going off in your neighborhood do you take a dump on the hood? Really tell me, how do douchebags like you go on day to day with all these ignoramuses invading your quiet space?
Well, I’ll let you go as I’m sure there is an adorable puppy breathing a little too loudly somewhere that you need to go and kick.

Love always<
Giulia

Dear Dude in Mike Myers costume on Saturday,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

The best thing about Halloween is dressing in costume. That's costume, not full-blown character. One of the worst things about Halloween is meeting people for the first time in costume. You can't see their eyes and tell if they are a loon-bag like you.
Saturday my fiance and I stopped by a few Halloween parties, on being thrown by my fiance's co-worker. Everyone at the party was delightful none the less but you. You creeped me out from the start. Anyone who won't break character creeps me out, especially when wearing a creepy mask.
For some reason I was the target of most of your insanity. You approached me in the kitchen and kept high-fiving me, missing my hand and smacking my wrists. When I told you to please stop because if you did not I may punch you, you replied “Go ahead hit me" to which I said "No thanks." Then you went there.
You started taunting me saying "Go on fag, what are you a pussy? Hit me!" as if I were a drunken chump at a bar who was hitting on your girlfriend. I tried my best to make my somewhat inebriated mind go to happy place but you did a very good job at yanking me down to your pathetic and violent level.
I lightly tapped your face to let you know I wasn't joking causing you to scream "Pussy and fag" at me even louder. I again asked you to quit it but your persisted.
I should have walked away but my inner frat boy began to fume. I hit you again, a little harder this time. You called me a pussy yet again.
(Did somebody slip me acid or a horror flick villain really challenging me to a duel?)You recoiled with “Is that all you got?"
Now let me stop and tell you that no, that was not all I got but I was not about to get blood all over my slutty St. Paulie girl outfit. This is not a statement to prove how big my balls are, it's me telling you that I have had enough training ( beyond just my Tai Boe dvds) that if I wanted to I could have clocked you in face, kicked you in your tiny nuts clawed that mask right off your wormy little hidden face. Anger is a powerful muscle. And if I failed I am pretty positive I could find some hefty boys to finish the job.
But I am not a violent person.
Except
I hit you one last time. I almost hit you full force but realized what I was doing mid-punch a held back enough to hopefully bruise you but not really really hurt you. As I hit you I got a glimpse of your cheeks below the eye holes of your mask. Your face was bright red with craziness. I am not going to sock a psycho.
At this point, Borat or my fiance'realzied what was going on and we decided to leave as you called after for me to return and hit you some more. Perhaps you are a sadomasochist. Perhaps you are really Mike Myers. Perhaps you are a turd who likes to fight with funny, sweet, insanely adorable girls. Whatever you are, you are clearly a douchebag whom I hope somebody, somewhere, with less of conscious than me punched you really hard that night.


Love Always,
Giulia
ps. It was brought to my attention by a lovely friend that in reading the above letter some may think I was taking about Mike Myers the comedian. Please be assured that it was not Austin Powers, Wayne or the Sprockets guy who asked me to punch him, it was the horror movie character. However, a man in a velour suit and big teeth telling me "Punch me! Yeah baby Groovy Baby!" would have been great. Maybe next year. Maybe.

Dear Giulia,

stpaulie
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Way to go with giving into the whole mass-produced slutty Halloween costume craze. Usually you are quite the creative gal, making costumes of out nothing year after year and celebrating one of your favorite holidays with thought and originality. But this year you lost your magic touch and bought a slutty St Paulie girl outfit that looks just like the slutty French maid outfit, the slutty Goldylocks outfit, and the slutty Queen of Hearts costumes. Same brand, same outfit, different colors.
Although I am very disappointed in your lack of effort, I must admit you look sort of cute in that get-up. Remember, you don't have to wait for Halloween to dress like a skank, you have the power to look like a whore anytime you want.
I say next year you go as a slutty hotdog. Hot!
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear George Bush,

Wow, thanks so much for your concern. You know who else is concerned? People who are dying in Iraq.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear K-fed (again),

kfuck
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I didn't think anything could be cheesier than WWE Raw then I saw YOU on WWE Raw last night.
The boos and hisses from the crowd were not part of wrestling dramatics, those people ( like most) really don't lke you. I was so uncomfortable with this situation that I almost started to cry. I just feel strange when I see you, and I don't mean that in a teenage crush way, I mean it in like the same way I felt when the foreign kids in high school would wear really high pants and thrift store sweaters before vintage was "in". Shouldn't you be home with your wife and kids?
Please stop acting like a bigstronzo , unless you plan to change your name to K-stronnz. I hear dat shit if off da hook.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear MTA window employee at the Smith & Bergen stop in Brooklyn,

When somebody taps on your window w to ask you about the confusing re-routing of the F train (aka the F-ed up train) your job is to respond. Instead you ignored a nice and polite British woman as she tapped on your cage and kindly said "excuse me" three times. You then exited your glass box to go into one of those secret subway doors which I assume leads to a restroom where you were going to go and remove the large pole from out of your ass.
The Brit then turned to you and said excuse me one last time. You finally turned. The woman then asked " Um, I'm a bit confused, is the F train not coming to this station?" To which you, with all the attitude you could muster in your stupid self replied " Can't you read the sign?"
This is where I stepped in.
"Jesus, it's your job to answer questions you rude bitch!" Granted you had already walked through the mystical door as the words "rude bitch" exited my mouth but should you decide to google " uneducated, miserable, pig-faced, subway employee at Smith and Bergen" you will know how I dislike thee.
Oh and don't worry, I ended up explaining the configuration of the New York city transit system to the nice English gal hopefully while you were being humped mercilessly by a giant subway rat.
Learn to do your job douchewhore.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Tom,

LogoDotcom
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I love you and hate your magical place that is MySpace.

Not long ago I got over high school. Well, I got over it as much as I am able. Then you came along, dangling popularity before my eyes. To a girl who desperately wanted to be a beautiful, popular cheerleader( mind you after three years of try-outs, one of which included me having to try-out with the cheer captain since no one wanted to be my partner, and then collapsing upon her during a jump nearly destroying her pom pom career) MySpace is like crystal meth. Even though it's slowly killing me inside I need a little everyday to get by, just a little.

Add to that the use of the words "accept" and "deny" in reference to friendships and you have dragged me right back to junior high dances. Couldn't you change it to:

wants to be your friend, would you like say sure or you’re cute, but I'm just not interested

Then there is the "read mail" factor. If you give me the opportunity to spy on my mail recipients to see if they have in fact read my mail, I will not only take you up on your offer but obsessively check to see if my message has been read then obsess even more over the fact that it has been read but not replied to. Then I wonder if maybe there was glitch in MySpace where although the message is in my mail sent folder perhaps it really wasn't sent. Please, Tom don't allow me to know if my mail has been read. It's feels like when I used to like a boy and he didn't talk to me so I told someone to tell that boy I liked him and he still didn't talk to me and then I wonder well did that person I told to tell him tell him or did they forget to tell him so should someone else go and tell him again or did they tell him and he doesn't like me back or maybe he doesn't know who I am so should I go talk to him myself or maybe I should just drive by his house, oh wait I'm not 16 yet and don't have a car and I am not walking because I only like to eat and watch TV so maybe my dad can drive me by his house but then I will be driving by a boys house with my dad and is he sees me he will think I am lame for hanging with my dad and my dad won't even drive me cause he'll be like "why do you need to drive by a boys house, if he doesn't like he doesn't like you" and then I will spend years hating myself and my dad for saying this even though he is right and I should just leave the boy alone but I can't because I don't know if he likes me or not.

As for connecting me with long lost buddies, you rock. As for helping me connect to other artists, writers, creators, opportunities, networks, etc etc, you are damn good. As for having my friend request box backed up with turd-nuggets whom I have never met but are hopeful I will "accept" so that they may promote their new album/show/cookie delivery business by leaving large and obnoxious "thanks for the add" banners on my comment box, followed by links to their lame videos/songs/resumes, I am displeased.

I know it's not your fault. By joining MySpace one opens themselves up to meeting creeps, annoying messages, and exposure they may or may not really want. I can recall a few times when a real live human, not a face + wacky headline + about me paragraph, but a real live person has said to me something in reference to my page that I was startled as to why they knew so much about me. Sorry, that was hard to follow, perhaps this role play will better demonstrate:

Person whom I only know through MySpace : "Hey! I'm a big fan of the show Mr. Belvedere too?"
Me: “How the fuck did you know that?" forgetting that in my favorite TV shows section of my space I pay homage to everyone’s favorite British housekeeper.
The real live human then has to endure that "shot-down" sort of feeling like " oh damn this girl forgot I was her friend."

Even as write this letter I can already imagine the following will happen:
Stranger: "Hey! That's funny you tried out for cheerleading for 3 years?"

Me: "How the fuck did you know that"
Then I will run to a corner to slowly rock myself, rhythmically back and forth as I sobbed over the reminder of this painful adolescent failure.
Oh the internet is so weird.

But back to you Tom. All in all bravo for creating the fun-est and freakiest site ever which has spawned douches like me to be a fourteen year old girl forever.


Thank you for being a friend Tom.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear people who are STILL making Broke Back Mountain gay jokes and/or parodies,

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Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

The joke was old when it started, enough already.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Gov. Mitt Romney,

romney_blue
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I am truly ashamed to be from a city that is governed by an ignorant douchebag. You spoke to a group of upstanding religious folk about how wrong gay marriage proclaiming that it should be banned across the country. You said "when religious liberty is compromised, all liberty is compromised" but isn't liberty compromised when the government tries to decide who the people can and cannot love? You say that every child deserves a mother and father and while in an ideal world I would agree, but what if that mother or father is a verbally abusive drunk or a physically abusive monster or a crack whore? If that better than a mom or dad who likes rainbows?
Later, you cautioned against discrimination: "I believe God loves all of his children." A contradictory politician, how surprising.
Honestly Rom-dawg, this photo sorta indicates that you, yourself have a little gayness in you. It's okay dude, lots of guys take dumps on the gays to protect their manhood and mask their possible gay-ness. The loungey arm on the railing, the sassy hip bend, you may as well have gone to Glamour Shots and worn a boa for this pic.
But seriously Mitty, why are you so bent outta shape over two homosexuals tying the knot? Why is anyone so bent out of shape over two homosexuals tying the knot? Maybe you should focus on your own martial relationship rather than judging the marriages of others.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Tyra (again),

I realize I am a little late in commenting on the season seven premiere of America's Next Top Model, but unfortunately the night it aired I was out doing something with my life other than watching you and your ANTM posse be a bunch of complete douchebags.
First off, stop it with the comedy. Or attempt there of. Your "characters" are almost as irritating as the never failing way you make everything about you, your struggles, your drama, your life, your career. Why do you even have contestants? Why not just have 60 minutes of Tyra talking about Tyra? Oh wait, you do. It's called The Tyra Banks show.
But nonsense and annoyance I can deal with, socially unacceptable portrayals of women I cannot like in the photo shoot parody on model stereotypes where you assigned each contestant a "wacky" model type to play in the photo. Such types were doled out like, diva model, the crazed model, the model turned actress. Alright dumb, but fine. Then you assign THE ANOREXIC MODEL and THE BULIMIC MODEL?!?!?!?!
(warning this clip below is long and dumb, fast forward to the photo shoot to feel completely and utterly empty inside)


Are you fucking kidding me? Eating disorders are not kitchy and couture or whatever dumb style lingo you all use. I can't even begin to express how and why this is all so very wrong. Do I even really need to explain? You should be the one explaining. Explain how you can justify a photo shoot that belittles and makes fun of eating disorders and then have an array of Tyra show episodes about how dangerous eating disorders are in the modeling industry? You boo freaking hoo about how hard modeling is for young girls and then have crap like this on ANTM that makes it even harder to just be a girl, let alone a model. I don’t get how people like you, people who are such obvious contradictory robots make it so far in life.
Oooh I am too mad to type. All this gobbledygook has made me hungry. I plan to eat a sandwich and then take photos of myself yacking it up on my co-workers, then post them to my MySpace page where I shall start a MySpace group called “ cool girls who hate themselves and vomit in photos” you like that Tyra? Or maybe I will take photos of myself staring longingly at the sandwich, as I try and squeeze my fat ass into a pair of jeans 4 sizes too small. When the jeans don’t fit I take the same knife I used to spread mustard on the delicious sandwich I am not eating and I start cutting myself as punishment for being a stupid, average sized non- model. I will then send those with my holiday cards with that annual “update on my life letter.” Won’t that be fierce?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Giulia,

Can it you sicko! Seriously get your head out of the gutter. GET IT OUT! On the subway this morning there was a nice, unsuspecting woman who had the shakes. She shook, not violently but obviously. She was expressing her excitement to her friend regarding the upcoming vegetarian festival, so what? She was holding the pole. So what? Her shaking caused her hand to glide up and down the poll. So what? But out of the corner of your eye, you thought it looked like she was jerking off the pole. This made you laugh silently to yourself for the entire ride. Nice to know you still have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy. The lady has tremors and you have terrible taste.
. What you should have done was read your book, looked away, moved seats, something, anything to avoid staring at her hand as it slide up and down, up and down, up and down the long, smooth, long, hard, long pole. Enough douchlia. Really, that's quite enough out of you. Honestly I sometimes don't know why we even hang out together.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Hispanic cat caller on Boylston Street,

I am assuming you are an orphan since you keep crying out "mami! mami!" but I am not and never will your mother.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Kim Jong II,

Just like I always tell my feisty little 5'4 dad, settle down there little feller, settle down.
We get it Jong, your dink is large, real large. So large it can blow up the planet. But let's keep this massive machine in your pants, shall we? Like Mary J. said " no more drama, noooo nonono nooooo, no more drama no more drama do more drama, noooooo nooo nooo nonono no."

Look, Kimmy I sometimes think about wrecking shit up too but the difference between you and I is you have nuclear bombs and all I have is a sloppy right hook I have yet to actually use beyond cardio kickboxing. Oh and I am taller than you. And I am bit more stylish, although you do give a decent effort. This whole hair, sunglasses look is very 2001 Yoko Ono. If Yoko is your style muse perhaps you should take a lesson from her about peace and all that stuff unless of course you are really Yoko Ono. Does she have an alte egothat likes to hurt and destroy? Doubtful, but curious, very curious (insert chin rubbing as though one was thinking deeply here)



Come on Kim-dongy-donga let's just put the bombs down. PUT THE BOMBS DOWN! For reals don't be a doucher. If you cut the shenanigans out now I will even take you shopping for more platform shoes. Would you like that Kim J? Does the little chipmunk want to be playing with footwear or warfare?
Love Always,
Giulia

ps. About how the Bush Administration is saying we will not be threatened by this whole nuclear war testing thing just to clarify Bush and the gang are speaking for themselves I guess because personally I am pooping my pants about this one.

Dear E! True Hollywood Story,

Thanks for that touching special you aired last night called "E! Investigates: Starving for Perfection" which focused on eating disorders and how the media plays a big part in the problem. Next time, I suggest airing such a special right before your other touching specials " E!: Celebrity Slimdowns" or " E!:101 Sexiest Hollywood Bodies" just so you can make it crystal clear that you are feeding us(pun intended) contradicting bullshit.

Love Always,
Giulia
ps. The bulimic guy on your special last night, the one who stole so much money from his mom to buy food that she lost her car? Um yeah.

Dear Casting peeps, producers,and hire-ups at the Office,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

You are not douchebags what-so-ever. I just wanted to write you and unfortunately I do not have a site called Dear Delightful Dudes (yet). After a week of distrurbing incidents that led me to write heavy and heartbroken letters on this here site I needed to add some sunshine to start this weekend off right so I am making an acception to write one letter addressed at super awesome people. I also thought perhaps when you are not busy creating the most hilarious piece of television ever you may spend as much time as me Googling yourself leading you to stumble upon this site. Upon seeing the search results in which you discover that your show is associated with a site that is dedicated to calling out douchiness you'd click the link curious as to why anyone would ever call you such a term. To your delight (and mine) you'd find that this is in fact a letter of praise, and its placement here is merely a matter of convenience and strategy.
Now that I have your attention, let's get down to business.
I just want to say I love your show and I am ready to be hired as a writer, cast member, or both. I am sure you have been waiting for me to make such an announcement, well here it is, my offer rather my plea. I think those six solid years of job hopping in over two dozen offices for what I like to call “actor research" deserves to be recognized and rewarded. I get office banter, I know office behavior. Take a peek at observations one , two, and three and you shall see just how humorous and entertaining my view on office life is.
You like silly faces? I'll give you silly faces! You like sarcasm? Oh I have sarcasm up the hoo ha for ya! You like balloon animals? I can learn!
Granted a better approach would be writing a spec script and taking more acting classes to then get me a literary and legit TV/Film agent to then submit me to you where I shall wow you with my witty episode draft and charming audition. That would probably be a better approach, I realize such. However just as in 2002 during a killer set I was rocking at the Comedy Store in LA, I took a chance and asked the audience if anyone could introduce me to Eminem ( why I was obsessed with him for eight months, I know not) thus granting me the honor being somebody's plus one for the Eight Mile premiere and just as in 2001 I took a chance and asked a roadie at the Poison concert to introduce me to Bret Michaels and that roadie happen to be Bret's cousin and I got to spend twenty glorious minutes with the star of my earliest teenage sexual fantasies, I decided to just toss this whole "hire me on the office" letter out there. Do with it what you will.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Rev Fred Phelps,

I don't who is the bigger douchebag, you for wanting to protest the Amish funerals today because the Amish don't quite believe in your God-ly ways or FOX radio for actually agreeing to give you air time.
Considering you are a despicable, shameful, hateful old man I am going to give you big douchbag title of the day ( perhaps even the year).
You make me want to cry. Vomit, then cry, then repeat.
I'd tell you to go to hell but I am most certain you are already on your way there since God actually hates haters, not fags.

Go fuck yourself,
Giulia

Dear Crazy racist cab driver,

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Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I was quite surprised and somewhat delighted to be picked up last Friday night by a hippy looking female cab driver with a puppy in the front seat. I thought to myself " what a treat, it's not often you see female cab drivers in NYC no less one with dread-lock style hair and a pup." I envisioned a joyful drive to Brooklyn in which we'd discuss men and marijuana. We'd share a laugh over girly things like PMS and chocolate. You'd crank up some Phish tunes and just for kicks we'd stop on the Brooklyn bridge, take off our shoes and dance in the cool crisp city air, just feeling the groove man, just feeling the groove.
My fantasy was quickly denied when I commented on the cuteness of your pooch you immediately slammed the window that separates the driver from the passenger and turned up your classic rock music.
Fair, enough. I too often prefer to ride in silence.
But when you stopped at a red light on Avenue of the Americas in Tribeca beside a car with a black couple inside, you began to scream "Fuck you! You stupid ugly nig**rs!" over and over and over again.
this broke our ride code of silence you had previously indicated.
Not surprisingly, the couple was horrified and shocked. They said "excuse me?" a few times to confirm what had been said. The woman took out her cell, I assume to call the cab company to let them know a rabid douche was driving one of their cars.
I sat frozen in the backseat. The cabbie had dread-locks for Christ sake, was that just a mask or a mockery? The bigoted venom had no been spu-ing for at least 30 seconds when I rolled down my window and said "Um sorry?" to the couple followed by a confused " Um should I get out of this cab?" To which the couple screamed " hell yeah you should!" I quickly snatched my purse and jumped out of the car into on coming traffic. You didn't even notice that I had exited as you were now pounding your fists on the wheel as you continued your hateful mantra towards these innocent folks.
In what felt like slow motion I made my way to another taxi. I was in utter disbelief at the purely evil hatred I had just witnessed. I had made mental note of the cabbies car number but that information unfortunately disappeared from my thoughts somewhere between Houston and 1rst Avenue as I was so overcome with disappointment in people.
Between the pee pee piddling d-bag (see yesterdays post) on the bus from earlier that evening and the crazed slasher douche to be gun downed the next morning (see Monday’s post) to you, you heartless ugly racist doucher cab driver I had clearly seen the worst of the worst within 14 hours. 14 hours!? Who sees the three craziest douchebags in 14 tiny little hours? Six of which I was sleeping but I am certain that I had pulled an all nighter I would have encountered at least two or three more d-baggies since apparently it was a "Giulia and the douches marathon weekend."
It's shit like this makes me want to live in a cave. It's shit like this that makes me not want to have kids, to not bring more eyes into the world to witness such hate and madness. It's this kind of shit that keeps this site going yet I'd gladly surrender my lil' ol' humor page for a drastic decrease in douchism.
I just wonder, what is it that make some of us go nuts and others suck it up? Like the recent
guy from the Amish school shooting who was “angry at God” and was seeking out vengeance for his past suffering. We all have “issues” yet some of us deal with it constructively while others like you deal with it destructively?
But I digress. This letter is to the cabbie specifically. If I allow myself to dissect all the douches of the world I will be writing forever.
I hope your mangy mutt attacks your ugly face while you are driving through a predominately black neighborhood and not one of those, what did you call them again? Oh right nig**rs. Not one of "those" comes to your aide.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear dude who was touchng his private on the bus to NYC,

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Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

After recent roll-overs, fires, etc etc on Boston/NYC buses I was prepared for some accidental group disturbance on my ride to NYC this past weekend. I was however not prepared, nor will I ever be prepared to sit next to a man diddling his dinker.

I clearly wanted to sit alone. Did my Ipod on, sunglasses lowered, feet up on seat demeanor not send such signals? I would later come to understand that you weren't looking for a reasonable place to sit, you were look for an arousing place to sit. While your choosing me as the luck y lady to cause your boner was perhaps somewhat of a sick and twisted compliment, I was not flattered.
I moved my belongings, moved to the inside seat, and let you and you awkwardly shaped self sit. I could vibe instantly that you were a weirdo. Or maybe you were "slow" or had a serious metal issue. Regardless I could care less about your boo-hoo dysfunction, you are a creep and simply reinforced how strong female intuiton really is. I put down my shades so I could pretend to sleep while keeping an eye on you. You then took my nap time as an opportunity to stroke your wiener underneath the jacket you so sleekingly placed upon your lap. I jerked up (pun intended), you immediately followed. To be sure you were doing what I suspected I pretended to sleep again, this time as I silently wept in my head. Ten minutes later your hand creeped to your wonk wonk prompting me to jump and scream “Get the fuck out of my way” as I yanked my belongings (pun number two for those counting) and moved seats. I would have yelled " Go fuck yourself but you already were doing a great job at that. (yeah, I am the punmaster)
I didn’t know what to do so I waited until we reached the rest stop where I planned to tattle tale to the driver. We all got off the bus, you more so than the rest of us. After a 15 minute break you were no where to be found. Everyone had returned to the bus but you and your slimy shlong loving paws. The driver waited knowing one person was still inside the rest stop. Without hesitation I yelled across the bus to the driver “The guy you are waiting for is crazy, creepy and was touching himself I say we leave with out him!” Someone else cheered “Yeah!” and so we took off leaving you and your masturbatory self behind somewhere in Connecticut.
I should have spit in your face, kicked you in the balls, and shoved your douchebag face in the bus commode making you eat the weeks worth of shit that never seems to get cleaned from the never ending toilet tunnel. But like most dirty, delinquent, feeble, ugly douchebags I am most certain you are going to hell. A hell where you are on a never ending China town bus ride where your hands are tied behind your back and you have a 24 hour boner.
I think I will end this letter here as I can feel the bile building my throat.

Love never,
Giulia

Dear People who casually walked by the Brooklyn shooting on Saturday,

I awoke Saturday morning in Brooklyn to screams of "Oh God no!" and "drop the knife". I looked out the window to find a man in front the Met grocery store holding a woman hostage at knife point and two plain clothes police officers pointing guns at him. It was perhaps the most bizarre and disturbing scene I have ever witnessed. Scratch that. The most bizarre and disturbing scene I ever witnessed were the handful of folks, out getting their morning coffee or walking the dog that strolled by the scene unphased. These douches saw the guns, they saw the cop cars blocking traffic, they saw the chaos but insisted on strolling by in the midst of possible gun fire. Now, I get it, New Yorkers are rough and tough but walk by a scene as such as if this was simply common place? Seriously douches, that's not brave or cool, it's dumb. Maybe the emo music blasting from your Ipod has made you not only deaf, but also dumb and blind. Perhaps your tight hipster jeans have cut off the circulation to your brain. Regardless, it ain't hip to risk your life to get a morning cup o' brew.
And I do realize what I am about to say is not your fault but do you by any chance know who's responsibility it was to pick up the slain knife man's bloody hat? Apparently ( click the link above) the bloody hat remained in front of the supermarket two hours after the incident took place. Classy peeps, real freaking classy.
I think I need a hug
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear People who recently put up thier Christmas decorations,

Christmas0107
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I have seen two of you already this week. The week of September 24th. I hope you magically get trapped in that enormous inflatable snowglobe sitting on your lawn, your hands pressed fearfully against the plastic frame, fake snow rising up into your frail lungs. That is a holiday display I could enjoy year-round.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Jeeves,

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Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Where the F did you go? I stopped by www.askjeeves.com today only to find that it has now been switched to a boring site called ask.com with no sign of the Jeeve man to be found. What's up with that? Was Jeeve becoming a peeve?
It felt really uncomfortable for me to ask anyone but you Jeeves, what's going on but desperate times call for desperate measures, so I typed where the fuck is Jeeves intp the faceless ask.com site to find out you've retired? Unacceptable. After the devastating cancellation of Mr. Belverdere"I never expected I'd have to endure the loss of another fake butler friend in my life, and now this.

Well good riddens Jeeves ( yes I am being mean as a form of emotional armor) I never liked you anyways ( liar Giulia, LIAR!) Just tell me one thing Jeeves, why ditch the internet in such a cowardly douchebag way? By having your "people" answer the concerned queries of your were abouts? Huh? Why'd go on and be that way Jeeves? Do you have it in your heart to answer just one last question? I didn't think so.

Love always,
Giulia


ps. In case you are curious my original question for you today Jeeves was about a Hollah Back Girls. Last night at a bar there was some debate as to the definition of this term. I responded with my knowledge of the issue confidently but decided I should fact check my info and ask you what is a holla back girl ? Oddly enough the response had an eerie similarity to the direction our relationship may be heading:

"A hollah back girl is a girl (me) that will allow guys (Jeeves) to do whatever they want with her (like leave her) and will just wait for them to 'holla back' at them.”

Sadly I don’t think there will be any “hollah-ring” coming from you anytime soon.

Dear Entertainment Tonight,

et_header_logo
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I am not sure how you found your way onto my television set two nights in a row but I most certain you will not be joining me for another night of “mindless TV watching while mindlessly eating dinner” again (unless of course I am the subject of your program, which in that case I assume I wouldn’t even be eating dinner because I’d want to look super skinny on your show, but I am jumping ahead).
Last night in response to the controversy over Madrid’s opposition to use ultra thin gals on the catwalk and Italy’s refusal to follow trend, so you took a hard look at overly-skinny models (because overly skinny models is a very new and hot topic). You interviewed Gisele who muttered in her thick accent something about “ I don’t find it sexy at all to be a stick” will clearly puts the general public at ease now that a stunning Vicky’s secret model told us it’s cool to be heffers. You then went on to interview some other one-time thin model who at 5’9, 160 pounds is now flourishing as a plus sized model. Ahem, a PLUS SIZED MODEL at 5”9 and 160 pounds. (I realize it’s not your fault ET, that a size 8 model is called a plus size model, so if you could please give me the persons name and address who did make this decision I’d loooooooooove to stop by their house, take off all my clothes and force them to eat pizza with me and my size 8 naked body). The former thin model whined about her battle with anorexia during her former thin model years but now grateful to be working as a model again, a plus sized model. The douchebag bashed the modeling industry for creating an unhealthy body image standard yet she still works in the modeling industry. What a fucking inspiration to us all, really. Nice work ET. Every freaking week you do at least one story about fat vs. thin which humors me beyond explanation.
Remember when you put Vanessa Minnillo in that stupid fat suit to show America how wrong people treat larger citizens and then plaster your show and site with video of Janet Jackson working out with no mention of Janet’s unhealthy yo-yo dieting and stomach stapling.
You feature a “touching” piece on your sister show The Insider about the anorexic who eats paper and blames America’s Next Top Model for making her obsessed with her weight showing how after a guest spot on Tyra’s talk show (like I said T-bag you are not Oprah) the manuscript muncher is “cured” and now watches America’s Next Top Model with utter glee. Is she going to be your new poor Melissa DeHart? The anorexic girl you followed for years while co-currently doing endless pieces about Celebrity Diet Secrets?.
Your show drips with contradiction, ignorance, and above all pure douchiness. It’s like you force feed me doughnuts while I am climbing the Stairmaster. Luckily both you and doughnuts make me ill, and I hear bulimia is a pretty neato way to drop pounds and I am certain my proposed weight-loss method will help me get on your show either as a “do” or “don’t” or probably both.

Dear ET Insider,

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Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I know, I know you like to spit out meaningless entertainmnet bullshit at viewers but reporting the rumors of the suicide attempt of David Hasellhoff's daughter just felt wrong. Whether or not the poor girl already made an attempt suicide, I am pretty sure watching this story may want to make her kill herself. Way to go a-holes.
Love Always,
Giulia
ps. Did Pat O'Brien ever get a call back?

Dear Mean mom at the mall,

Remember when your sweet daughter that you made nicely said "Mom, I need to go to the bathroom." And you replied "Oooooh NO! Nu-uh, you are not ruining my shopping. I gotta take you to the bathroom? You should have gone before. You better not start this! I do not need this from you today."
Need what you douchey bitter bitch? She is your daughter, as in you freaking made her therefore you should take care of her, meaning if she has to pee, you put down those black capris that you will never even fit over your extraordinarily wide ass and take your baby to the goddam potty! You may need to get your new sequin logo Fubu sweat shirt but your daughter does not need to get a urinary tract infection.
It's just like in grade school when, I would ask "can I go the bathroom?" the teacher would belittle me and say "I don't know CAN you?" After I corrected yourself like a chump and said " Sorry, MAY I use the bathroom" the teacher would note that it I just got back from recess 30 minutes ago " you should have gone at lunch." Tell me, how the hell was I suppose to pre-plan my bladder activities when at age six I hadn't even learned how to read a clock? Since when did needing to pee become a bratty luxury?
I wanted so badly to pee and pooo all over your shopping bags.
I hope that when you get older you develop severe bladder control issues that force you to have to change your diaper every twenties minutes and when you are peeing all over yourself and you call your daughter to desperately ask her to bring some more Depends her reply is "Oooooh NO! Nu-uh, you are not ruining my shopping. I gotta take you to the bathroom? You should have bought them before. You better not start this! I do not need this from you today."

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Kampf,

kampf
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I totally meant to write to you yesterday but I was so caught up in Flavor of Love that I forgot. Please forgive me.
Anyhoo so you kidnapped your daughter to get an abortionBig woop. I mean so many girls would kill ( literally) to have an abortion and your little girl Katelyn is being like so ungrateful, huh? It's sort of like when my parents made me get braces, we all knew it was for the best but I still huffed and puffed and stomped my feet. Granted my feet (and hands) weren't tied together like Katelyn's were but still I can totally relate.
If forcing your child to get a fetus removed from their uterus doesn't say " I love you" I am not sure what does. It's no different than forcing a kid to eat all their peas and carrots, right? Granted the enforcer of pea and carrot eating wasn't angry that their daughter was carrying a black man's baby but whatev's. Even Sheriff Dion of Cumberland said ``It is difficult for her (Katelyn) to appreciate that her parents did what they did" Now they picked a real classy guy to run the police dept of Rhode Island, huh? Sounds like Katelyn owes somebody really sweet Mother's and Father's day cards.

"To my very special Mom
on Mother's Day,
You've given me love, you’ve made me smile.
You’re there for me every day
When I became preggers, it was you who forced me to abort the kid
So I'd just like to say thanks Mom, for all these loving things you did.

My only advice would be next time you kidnap your daughter to get an abortion, DON'T STOP AT KMART! I know, I know Lola you just couldn't resist picking up some swanky new pink sweat pants to wear for your daughters big day but seriously folks you should have just driven straight to that magical clinic where they apparently don't ask for the pregnant woman's consent nor do they acknowledge screams of "no!" by the mother-to be. Where is this magical clinic anyhoo? Oh, wait I think I know the place? It's in your fucked up minds, right? Is that near Friendlys? I suggest getting your little girl a milkshake after the procedure. My parents used to always get me icecream after my abortions, ooops I mean dentist appointments. But hey, you're the parents, big, fat, ugly, douchebag parents, don't let me tell you what to do.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Flav,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

You are not the douchebag here, it's me but I just need someone to blame for why I keep watching your show. Maybe if you weren't so damn intriguing I wouldn't keep myself awake on Sunday nights when I am desperately in need of catching up on missed sleep from earlier in the weekend. But week after week I am capitavated by Bootz, Crazy, even Delicious and that thing on her right eye. Why Flav, why? I wake up every Monday morning wanting to say things like " Oh you know what time it is!" to my co--workers when I walk into work and "That's MY man!" to the bus driver. This ain't right Flav. Please don't have a season 3. Please.
It hurts my soul to watch, but it hurts more to shut it off.
Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Wet Gym Members,

The gym provides free clean towels, so please tell me what fucking excuse do you have not to use a free clean towel to wipe your sweat off the leg press?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Diddy,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I am so sorry to hear that in London you can no longer be referred to as Diddy. I can't even imagine what you are going through right now, I mean your name has changed so much over the past few years how do you even know who you are anymore? Sean 'Puffy' Combs, Puffy Combs, Sean Combs, Combs,Puff Daddy,P. Diddy,P Diddy. Have you ever accidentally been called Doody instead of Diddy or Brushes instead of Combs?
I know it can be rough having a hard name, I am often called various things too like Goolia, Goolz, Giuella, Ginellia, and Douchebag. Have you ever been called a Douchebag? It's such a stupid word but it has a nice ring to it. You actually have the power to make it cool just like you made threatening peoples lives if they didn't vote cool ( "Vote or Die" Gosh, that slogan killed me. Almost literally) It could be like how other demographics have reclaimed derogitory names as a form of empowerment, like how some women call eachother "my bitches" or some black people call each other " my niggas", you could start calling people "my douches" and make it all okay. How cool would that be? Would you do that Diddy? I mean Puffy. I mean, wait why not start this revolution by telling the Brits to just call you Douchey? P. Douchey. How freaking dope is that?

Love Always,
Giulia aka G-douche

Dear Iggnorant Couple on the 2:30pm Greyhound from Boston to New York on September 8th,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I decided to ride the Greyhound Bus after hearing that a Fung Wah bus overturned in Auburn, MA. Clearly I realize that a bus is a bus and buses and bus stations attract some of the lowest forms of human beings (myself excluded of course). But for some reason I was hopeful that the fancier Greyhound would prove me wrong, but then I met you douches.
After you two and your family (a sister, the sister’s infant, and a grandma) got on the bus late bewildered as to why the entire clan could not get seats next to one another and complaining loudly about this fact for fifteen solid minutes you proceeded to carry on discussions in whatever language you speak ( it sounded like Arabic or Armenian with a ghetto twist. I assumed it was Douchebagian) with one another even though you were all scattered about the bus.
Luckily you the lovebirds (you the husband who was loudly eating a smelly Italian sub and you the very fat wife) got to sit next to eachother and right next to me! You guys weren’t getting along so well, at least that’s what I gathered from the 4.5 hours of constant shouts back and forth of “leave me the fuck alone!” and “don’t you tell me what to do!”
We ( and I am speaking for everyone on the bus) really appreciated it when you ( chunky mama, I am talking to you here) spilled your entire coke on the floor and made not one even tiny bit of effort to clean it up or pick it up as it was continuing to spill. You didn’t even pretend to care. You looked at it spilled and went back to being a fat, nasty, classless douchebag. No worries, there is nothing people on a bus like more than having sticky sugary shoes. I am surprised you didn’t attempt to lick the soles of my sandals with your slobbering fat mouth so you could have your sugar fix.
Everytime the bus even slowed down or stopped at a stop sign you both complained “ I could have like smoked like 10 cigarettes in all this time we have been waiting.” You also complained that we made a pit stop even though the ticket said this was a non-stop bus. I realize you never completed junior High but non-stop means, well, the bus does not stop. No, not even so a douchebag can smoke.
By far, the most stellar example of just how classy you two crazy cats are was when we pulled into Port Authority and the bus driver had to pause before parking so that another Greyhound employee could move a cone out of his parking spot and your reaction was wife: “what the fuck is it taking so long to park!?” husband: “I dunno, the bus driver probably needs to eat some watermelon and fried chicken before he can let us off the bus.” Now, as if being a bigot wasn’t shameful enough, um the bus driver was white. You assumed he was black, made a racial comment and the driver was a white man.
Did I mention the thing about the racial comment and the bus driver being a white man? Yeah? Cause I am still not over it.
Let me remind you one more time, you two uneducated dickwads spilled soda, argued, smelled like salami, and then you made a racial comment that didn’t even make sense.
I hope you both finally got to have your 10 cigarettes and that when you are in the hospital getting your chemo that your doctor is asian and accidentally leaves you in radiation for too long because he is too busy eating rice and beans and doing the Macerena, or your Irish doctor accidentally leave you in chemo for too long because he/she is too busy eating meatballs and shaving his back, or it’s your black doctor who leaves you in chemo for too long because he/she is too busy eating bagels and lox and being cheap. In other word, if you’re going to stereotype at least get it right you dumb douches.

Love Always,
Giulia

PS. To the very very fat wife, I just loved your baby t-shirt and muffin top inducing jeans paired with big gold hool earrings with the words "Baby" in gold across the centers. Very stylish!

Dear Naked Lady in high heels in the gym locker room,

Lockers
Originally uploaded by fensterbme.

Let me begin by saying I am completely comfortable with women being naked in the women’s locker room. I mean where else besides a strip club can you walk around in public, free as a bird, boobies bouncing, muff in the breeze? I just think being naked is fun. I am one of those people who really does dance around the house naked and often has incidents where in mid booty shake to Justin Timberlake’s “I’m Bringing Sexy Back” I noticed my shades were wide open.
Anyhoo, this letter is not about me and my cooters extrovertedness it’s about you and how you simply took things too far at the gym today.
Now I realize the towels they provide are not large enough to fully wrap around even the thinnest of bodies. I often consider ditching the towel myself as I stroll from shower to locker, still I make that polite and amusing attempt to cover my bits and pieces with the wash cloth as I walk through the locker room. I just don’t want to turn the corner and be buck naked if I accidentally bump into a fully clothed person and I don’t want to be a fully clothed and accidentally bump into a naked person. I’m not quite sure which is worse if either. I also feel bad shocking people with my nudity. There are still some ladies there who are completely and utterly uncomfortable by the site of another woman’s naked body, so inconsideration for those poor souls I like to ease into my nakedness and keep my towel on until I am at my locker changing where it is expected that I am nude beneath my towel. Having the towel as I walk from shower to locker is like a warning sign announcing “Get ready girls, I’m about to expose my thingy!”
But you, oh so stupid naked douchebag. You not only walked from shower to locker in the buff, but you did so wearing high heels! In case you were unaware this is not Cheetahs. Actually you can’t even walk around like that in a strip club since most have a “topless only” policy if the club serves booze, I guess strippers don’t want to risk getting beer in their vaginas. But the only way I’d be able to take off all my clothes while stripping would be if I were drunk. Even when I am not at a strip club I have a bad habit of getting tipsy and offering to show my knockers to friends.
But I digress yet again.
So there you are, walking around the locker room with your naked body and high heels. Your fit, firm, perfectly toned naked body. Yeah we saw you okay? We saw how fit and thin you are, we get it, we see it. You dried your hair naked. You put on your make-up naked. (For those of you wondering, yes she was somewhat of a but-her-face). You even dropped your hair brush four times and squatted down to pick it up NAKED.
I would share what happen next but I was too busy trying to prevent my lunch from escaping up my throat.
Go buy flip flops and robe you big ol’ D-bag.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Everyone who couldn't stop talking about Suri Cruise,

06poster
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Are you all satisfied now? If so, can we please move onto to discuss more important matters in the news, like how the fuck does a baby get such a rich mane of lucious thick styled hair?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Giulia,

Did you like watching the Jessica Simpson Public Affair special on MTV last night? Do you remember how even though you were so exhausted and woke up this morning complaining about how sleepy you feel, you still stayed up and watched a Jessica Simpson special because clearly you are "not" interested in her and are "sick" of seeing her everywhere? Did you forget that "intimate performances" are almost as awkward to watch as bad spoken word poetry slams. Do you recall that the sight of fans crying as Jess cried made you utterly uncomfortable,yet you still forced yourself to watch? Do you recall that moment during her emotional performance when your eyes got a little watery and when your boyfriend noticed you got super defensive and said "What? huh? Nothing!" Last but not least, do you recall when Jess said "it's really hard when the tabloids accuse Ashley and I of not being supportive of one another" and you, in the most d-baggiest moment of the night, you actually, seriously, for realzy, clutched your hand to your heart, took a deep breath and quietly said aloud "I know, I know" as you thought of your own sister and how hard it would be if your own relationship scrutinized by the public.
Sorry to have interupted your website writing, I just wanted to remind you about all of this.Carry on.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear douche who didn't hold the elevator for me this morning,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

In case you were wondering who screamed "JERK!" as you let the elevator door slam in my face this morning, it was me. I should have screamed "DOUCHEBAG!" then you would have known I was speaking to you.

I too, hate sharing MY elevator with others. I too, relish in the peace and quiet I get from riding the elevator all alone with no one to spark forced meaningless conversation about the weather and how good my coffee smells. I too, hate finding new places to stare in an effort to avoid eye contact with fellow passengers. I too, use those few seconds I have alone, in a box, all by myself to put on extra deodorant or finally scratch my "inappropiate to scratch in public" areas. BUT no matter how much I like my privacy, I always hold the elevator is someone is literally one arm in and one arm out.
Anyhoo, have a super Labor Weekend! Perhaps you can use your Monday off from work to think about the douchey work you have done.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear People who wear huge headphones on the subway,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Whoa I get it, you dig music.

I also get that you look quite silly with enormous headphones plugged into your tiny Ipod Nano.
I used to wear similar headphones when I used to go the library as a kid and listen to records or slide projector movies in the media room. Do you remember that episode of the Brady Bunch when Marcia visited Davy Jones at the recording studio? He was wearing big headphones and was singing
"Girl, look what you've done to me,
Me, and my whole world,
Girl, you brought the sun to me,
With your smile, you did it girl,
I'm telling you girl, something unknown to me,
Makes you what you are,
and what you are is all I could ask for me,
and its good to feel that way girl.
Thank you girl, for making the morning brighter
girl for making the night time nicer
girl for making a better world for me."

When I'd put the library headphones on I used to feel like Davy Jones, minus the British accent and wiener, of course. Do you ever feel like Davy Jones?
Unless you are on your way work, and your job is that of flying airplanes, I could understand the need for the giant headpiece. I am going to assume by your youth and skateboard you are not a pilot, so how's about we loose the electric earmuffs?


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Kate Jackson,

angels
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I don’t want to point fingers (specifically at your unmovable “about to crack” super tight smile) but I would have been moved by your Aaron Spelling memorial speech on last nights Emmy Awards had I not been so distracted by the fact that you could hardly move your lips. I am not judging the fact that you have had plastic surgery or botox or rubber cement smeared across your chin, cheeks, lips, and forehead, that’s your prerogative, I just want to know how it feels to have to forever speak like a ventriloquist, carefully moving your lips ever so slightly.
Like, okay, sometimes I wear a mid mask and everyone looks so silly with a mud mask, ya know? So like I put it one and then my boyfriend will laugh at me because I can’t move my face to talk or the mask will crack, which ultimately makes me laugh, but it’s like a stiff “herherher” laugh because my face is being pulled my stiff mud. Is that what you feel like all the time?
Maybe you didn’t have surgery or botox. Maybe you just aged, um, well? I guess you aged well. I‘m not sure what “older” women are suppose to look like anymore or if women over 40 even exist in Hollywood anymore. I’m not suggesting you all should look like English Bulldogs. I mean we all want to look young and pretty but scary is not young nor pretty it’s just, well scary.
Perhaps next year they will give out an Emmy for best botox.
It’s notall your fault Kate, you are actually one of the better lift jobs I have seen. I just need someone to be mad at for all the pressure put on women to “redefine our age” and spend all of our money on products to improve our appearance, when many of us already appear to look just fine. Luckily I have the fortune of being raised by a confident mother whom at 63 wears minimal if any makeup and still looks as gorgeous as she did at 53, 43, and 33. And while I don’t exactly approve of her uniform that is tapered high-waist jeans paired with a wide assortment of my old tops (one being my old Levis “Button Your Fly” t-shirt) I do admire the comfort she exudes being herself and looking like herself. That’s the kind of star I’d like to grow up to be.
So Kate, please pass this little nugget of knowledge onto your 50+ year old friends- the more you inject and tuck to resist the sag, the more you are a big douchebag.

Love Always,
Giulia

ps. No offense, but I would have preferred a 90210 reunion to the Charlie’s Angels last night. Not even from the main cast of 90210 but the obscure characters like Scott Scanlin ( David’s BFF who shot himself) and Ray Pruitt( Donna’s abusive “How do you talk to Angel?” boyfriend). I mean America (me) is quite oversaturated with the old angels, the new angels, and most annoyingly, the way that trio’s of regular girls always pose for pictures in that angle pose as if they are being cute and coy.

Dear Yahoo News,

Your headline news today was an ABC news story that said SLACKING OFF, A BIG PART OF THE AMERICAN WORKDAY. The tagline was "American workers spend a big chunk of their work day chatting, web surfing, or zoning out"

Wow! Really? I always thought that people wrote their blogs, requested MySpace friends,sent ecards, balanced their online checkbooks, googled their co-workers, created Amazon wish lists, cyber-stalked ex boyfriends/girlfriends, joined dating networks, sent "I'm so bored" emails,shopped on Ebay,comparison shopped for airfares, and watched youtube.com videos during their own time from home? No? People don't spend their teeny tiny amount of weekend and evening hours doing all that cyber nonsense? You mean people aren't doing work for eight straight hours in front of their computer?
Well golly Yahoo news, thanks for that shocking and disturbing bit of information. Perhaps the above mentioned "fact" wouldn't be so if American workers didn't spend a big chunk of their work day reading obvious news such as the above mentioned.


Love Always,
Giulia
PS. Yahoo, you gots to know I still gots love for ya cause you brings me so many dope emails each day. So nah hard feelings, a-ight?
PSS. I am not exactly sure what just happened in the first PS

Dear DMV,

dmvdinks
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Your website sucks. Your automated call system sucks even harder. I just have a teeny tiny question and have kept me on hold for over thirty minutes. Please don't patronize me by saying " You're call is very important to us" because we both know it clearly is not. If I were so important to you, then you would call me. If I were important to you, then you would be open on Saturdays for us folks who work during the week. If I were so important to you, then you would at least play enjoyable tunes for hold muzak instead of just making me wait with awkward silence that caused me to repeatedly think w had disconnected and say “hello? hello?" only to be scared by the recorded bass voice teasing me with the "please hold/you're important to us" recorded lies.
Tell me, does the D in DMV stand for douchebag? Please let me know because I was unable to find the answer in your FAQ's


Love Always,
Giulia
PS. While I realize the DMV is in no way associate with the department of tax and finance, I decided to torture myself today and also call the NY department of revenue to follow up on my 2005 return I have yet to receive. I was placed on hold for 25 minutes only to be told I am actually not getting one because I failed to pay the "residency tax" ( the tax New Yorkers pay to live in the tiny, windowless apartments). Sadly the amount of money I thought I was owed by the state wouldn't have even been enough to pay the cost of my cell minutes I used waiting on hold. Isn't it ironic, don't ya think? A little too ironic, causing me to assume that all these bureaus are the epicenters of douchedom. That our tax dollars pay for lessons on how to be a complete and total douche. Write about that Alanis.

Dear prioritysupport@laptopreportcard.com,

dicks
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

I have admitted many times that I feel utter despair when my email inbox is empty. When I open my yahoo account to find a "0" in front of "new messages" I wince. The internet is my high school and that "0" tells me that no one will in fact take me to my junior prom.
Yet, no matter how I long for cyber popularity validation I NEVER get excited when I receive an email from you people at www.laptopreportcard.com ( I won't even hyperlink your name, I hate you that much). No matter how lonely I feel while shopping for MySpace friends only to go home empty handed ( "Yeah, I just didn't see anything I really liked') I NEVER get excited when I receive an email from you people at www.laptopreportcard.com. Even when I am drinking wine and crying as I stay up at night to google other writer/performer/creative types to see if they are more successful than me ( as their bios always seem to indicate) I will NEVER get excited when I receive an email from you people at www.laptopreportcard.com.
You have sent me a dozen spam messages everyday for two months and I still have not taken advantage of your offer for a free laptop. Don't you get the hint?Now I didn't write a book, go on Oprah, and get my own talk show but If a person doesn't return your messages they're "just not that into you."
So yesterday, after my fifth time entering my email address in to the "unsubscribe" box on your lame site, I emailed you folks at douchebags@laptopreportcard.com I mean prioritysupport@laptopreport.com letting you know that I want out of this twisted one-sided love affair you have with me and my box. My inbox. Twenty minutes later you sent me four more spam emails.
Now, it's on.
For every email you send me I will send 100 to your prioritysupport@laptopreportcard.com address. I will sign up for every newsletter, mailing list, and porn site using your email address. I will post your email address on this site and encourage my readers to send you emails whenever they are in the mood to make contact with a douchebag.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear K-fed,

Um I saw your "musical" debut on the Teen Choice Awards and wow! I mean wow! That line about "I rock the nuggets, one earring cost more than your budget" that was really um, well ah, um I just.. gosh. I feel at a lost for words here. Oh well one word does come to mind, if you can't guess what it is I suggest you replay your performance video above. I have watched it 12 times just because, well I'm the type of gal who can't resist staring at a horrific car accident. Still can't figure out the word? It begins with a d and ends with bag.
I realize you are cooler than me since you have 64894 friends on MySpace but I am fed up with you, k-fed up. I hope when your albums drops so do you, perhaps down a flight of steps.( not a big flight but a few steps so you skid your knee and get a little blood on your white pants).
.
Love Always,
Giulia
ps. Please ask your wife to spit out that damn piece of gum.

Dear beggars outside of Bank of America ATMs and all your friends,

images
Originally uploaded by Giulia1.

Don't you dare get mad at me! I don’t recall ever agreeing that I would pay a douchebag to hold the bank door open for me. Clearly I cannot “spare a quarter” when the smallest bill ATM’s don’t give out change. Did you honestly expect me to ask if you could break a twenty? This is a prime example why “beggars can’t be choosers” perhaps, next time you should say “spare any money?” rather than a specific coin.
Oh and here are a few more pan-handling tips for ya:
*When reject your donation request, don’t mutter “stupid ass bitch” under your breath. It doesn’t get me to change to mind.
*Don’t make your cardboard sign more than two sentences long. Nobody wants to get that close to read the find print about your lost job, home, mind, cat, stamp collection. Keep it short, sweet, and honest like “Please give me some of your hard earned money so I can finish my beer in a bag”
* When begging for change, don’t make announcements on the subway like “ Excuse me ladies and gentlemen I am not a crack addict” It just confirms that you are in fact a crack addict.
*Remember to leave Ugg boots at home when begging for change. I have actually seen a few of you sporting fancier shoes than me while shaking that damn change cup in my face. If you are really that hungry, go eat your boot.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Ashley (again),

with Ashley and Ryan Seacrest
Originally uploaded by MommyDee.

Ugh, please don't make me change this site to "DearAshley.com"?
I caught a quick clip of you "dancing", I think that was what you were trying to do, yeah "dancing" on stage with a stripper pole. You didn't do much. You sort of looked at the pole, grabbed it, shook your hips and then limped/sashayed across the stage. I was scared and intrigued. by your moves Ash, more importantly I was scared/intrigued when you, Jess,and Ryan Seacrest all stood together. You all looked so pretty, so very freakishly, "about to crack my mask" pretty.
Someday, America may forgive you for getting a face job immediately after telling Marie Claire "Everyone is made differently, and that’s what makes us beautiful and unique. I want girls to look in the mirror and feel confident.” but it will be hard, oh so very hard to ever forgive your dance moves. Those are the images that haunt us.

Ryan asked you post "sezuire like groove out" what you'd like to do next and you replied "do more acting." As long as you don't play Jeniifer Beals character in the revial of Flashdance I wish you all the best with the return to acting. Please return to acting.
Please stop singing and dancing and return to acting.
Please stop singing and dancing and retur