Dear Readers,

So now I'm for real putting Deardouchebag to bed. Instead of writing on this site, I'm now going to be writing weekly for my new Dear Doucebag spin-off column called Pop Culture Penpal over at Shoestring Magazine. This week's letter is to Vampires, click here to read it. And be sure to bookmark this link http://www.shoestringmag.com/pop-culture-penpal to read more letters, lists, and long-winded rants just like you did over here at DearDouchebag.com just on a prettier website with a less douchy name.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Matthew McNelly and Joey Miller,

Wow criminals are getting dumber and dumber. Last month a guy got caught robbing a home after he logged into his Facebook account at the house he broke into. Now you two dudes in Iowa were arrested in a burglary attempt after you were found with fake beards and masks drawn on your faces with a permanent marker.

A cop stopped your car because it fit the description of a vehicle used by two burglars. The cops found you both with black facial hair scribbled on your aces. Police chief Jeff Cayler told Radio Iowa “It’s a little weird. I’ve been here long enough that I’ve seen a lot of things, but this one’s a little different compared to most … I mean, just the face thing is what sets it apart.”

Many are describing this as “the worst disguise ever”. And you can include me in that many. I mean really guys? Really? Not so sharp and not so good with a Sharpie either.

Apparently you both seemed drunk when arrested which may explain the whole face writing thing. I mean in college my idiot guy friends had been known to draw a penis or two on one another’s faces while intoxicated.

Although you were both released on bail, you will never be free from being viewed as the world’s laziest, most idiotic, unartistic criminals. I wonder if the masks washed off when you cried yourselves to sleep at night?

Although I must admit, the chubby ones cat mask is almost half decent. Almost. Me-ow!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Readers,

I'm writing for a few other sites, hence why I may not post everyday. One of those other sites is Shoestring Magazine where I have a column called Pop Culture Penpal, a lil' twist on the Dear Douchebag idea. I have a few pieces up there now including this weeks letter to Halloween. And starting next week I'll be writing for them weekly, so bookmark this page http://www.shoestringmag.com/arts-entertainment/pop-culture-penpal and check out my letters and essays there as well.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Driver,

I just got back from my wonderful west coast trip. I have a slight tan, a bag of Coffee Bean coffee, and distant memories of being in homes with more than one room. Upon returning to NYC I was almost hit by your car on the corner of 5th Avenue and 8th Street when you drove through MY walk signal. Little white walker man means I go, you stop. If the signal meant I was suppose to scream in fear of my life and then punch your car, then the little white man would be in said position. (Yea, I punched your car. I'll fight your car. You wanna go car? You wanna go?)

Not only did you almost hit me but you yelled at me. ME! As if I were there one at fault here. I screamed "shut the fuck up you fucking piece of shit" and waved my fists rapidly in the air. (Did I mention I was walking to get dinner after yoga. Yup yoga. You f-ed up my zen. You f-ed up my fucking zen). Then you drove away leaving me to look like the crazy one at the scene of the crime. And so it goes, car is jerk. Car has speed and can leave awkward street fight. Pedestrian is left to receive glares and judgement from bystanders. It's okay, I'm sure your lady friend in the passenger seat will lecture you this evening about what a monster you were to a poor, adorable, girl trying to make her way home. Or she'll bang your relentlessly cause your manly aggression at even innocent city dwellers turns her on. Ewwww, you're both gross.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Readers,

While I'd love to spend days upon days writing about how annoying it is that we have granted the Heenes wish of being famous by giving them insane amounts of media attention. ( I especially love how all the tabloid TV programs are calling the family "media whore" um, don't these shows thrive on media whores?)I'm taking the week off while I travel along the west coast with my show Stripped Stories. If you feel so inclined, please spread the word. We're in Seattle October 20, San Francisco October 21, and Los Angeles October 23.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Richard Heene,

Eeesh all this media attention is making poor Falcon ill.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I'm not calling you a douche. You seem nice. Unless of course it is proven that all this "boy in the balloon" hullabaloo was a scam. But I can't imagine anyone would go to such lengths for publicity. Or would they?

As my pal Selena noted, you have a spiffy-Color Me Badd lead singer Bryan Abrams-inspired hair do. Not that this means you are lying, it's just merely an observation. And on that note, let's jam!




Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Sickness,

Thanks for keeping me in bed and off line for most of this week. No really, thankyou. Sometimes I don't take a true break until my body literally shuts down. That being said, I'm going back to bed to watch talk shows galore today. I'll deal with the douches of the world again on Monday.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Christopher Columbus,

You were responsible for slaughtering, enslaving and exploiting Native inhabitants when you arrived to America. Let's have a parade!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Thursday & Friday,

Sorry this blog ignored you.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Rainbow Pinwheel On My Laptop Screen,

I hate you.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Skinny Thing With Lots Of Legs That Ran Along My Wall,

Where the fuck did you go?! By the time I got the Raid and broom you disappeared behind something. I fear my hand will find you in a book on my shelf or my bare foot will find you in a shoe in my closet. Gross! Gross! Gross! Ew! Ew! Ew!

Why do you and all your friends think you have the right to just waltz into anyones home and violate their space? I know some people think I shouldn't kill you. That we are technically on "your turf" but last time I checked Mr Critter, your name wasn't on the lease.

At the very least, please don't creep up on me while I sleep. My biggest fear is waking up with you or someone like you resting on my face.

I must go shower and cry now.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Bag Of Groceries I Left On The Subway,

I am so sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you. Trust me, this hurt me way more than it hurt you.

I blame the idiot teenager obnoxiously singing along to their loud MP3 player. When I first heard the groaning vocals, I assumed it was a crazy old man but once the car cleared it was revealed that this horrid noise was that of a 14 year-old punk in such desperate need of attention that he was wailing nonsensical R&B lyrics. Although his friends warned "Yo, chill. Everyone is looking at you." This just caused the noise polluting culprit to grin and sing louder.

I was so distracted by the rudeness of this heathen that I got off the train only picking up one of my two bags of groceries.

Oh how I miss you bag of fresh produce and healthy snacks! To think, some lucky person out there is having their way with my Lactaid Cottage Cheese.

I wonder if once your all your contents are consumed and you're empty, you too will dance. Dance my bag, dance!


I feel cold.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Montblanc,

You're celebrating Gandhi's birthday by selling a commemorative pen that cost $24,763. Gandhi advocated a simple lifestyle, so simple in fact he wore a loin cloth non-stop! So attaching his name to a pen that costs the same as one years tuition at a private college makes total sense. And hanging billboards advertising your insanely expensive pen over the slums of Mumbai is a real nice touch. I'm sure when little Anjali and Nikhil are looking out at sky thru their roofless shack of a home they'll see your billboard and rather than use the few rupees they have to purchase a cup of rice, they'll instead save up those rupees to buy your precious pen. Considering 450 million Indians struggle on less than $1.25 a day, they should have enough money to buy the pen in about 52 years or so.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Chase Bank,

Thanks for making it seemingly impossible for me to ever be in the positive financially. My charming move of calling you hysterically crying and begging you to reverse my overdraft fees as a "customer courtesy" worked l last week, but I guess this week you caught onto the fact that I am clearly terrible at: balancing my checkbook, saving money, making money, being responsible with money, and now I'm apparently also terrible at being charming. It's okay, I need to learn my lesson, my very embarrassing, expensive lesson. Oddly enough when you were called "WAMU" I didn't make this many mistakes. Maybe the name "WAMU" made me WAnt to MUve my ass to make some money. Know what I mean? It was like:


Now I'm all like "Chasing" my tail. Ya heard?

Okay, gotta go! I'm off to re-read the chapter about money in The Secret again.
Fun fact! I used my debit card to buy The Secret and thus got an overdraft fee. Oh irony, you so crazy!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Chinese Food,

I can't stop thinking about the wonderful time we spent together on Sunday night. You're a great HBO watching companion. And you looked so cute in your little box. Oh that little box! It's a symbol of "good times ahead!" One of my favorite things is when I see people on TV holding you in those little boxes. it gets me all nostalgic.

My only complaint is that even though we spent a few hours together, after you were gone, I longed for more of you. I also felt kinda dirty. So we'll totally hang out again, just not a for a few months, okay? Can't wait!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Lactose Digesting Enzyme,

I wish my body produced you so I could fearlessly enjoy dairy. Instead cheese flirts with my stomach in some sick game of nutrient processing Russian roulette.

Oh you hurt so good, so good.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Giulia,

Don't get so easily irritated if someone doesn't reply to your email within a few days. Your neediness is making me uncomfortable. Not everyone is like you and feels the need to reply almost immediately to messages because they just can't bare the burden of an unanswered email sitting there, taking up all that infinite space in their inbox. Remember that time you kept emailing that person and got really mad when they didn't respond so you kept emailing only to find out they had a death in the family? Ummmm yeah, you see, not everything is about you! Chill. Please. The whole world is not trying to avoid you. At least, I don't think it is.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Person Not Using Headphones On The Subway,

Why? Just tell me why? Why are you not wearing headphones, thus forcing everyone on this subway car to listen to your shitty music? First of all the sound quality sucks coming out of your tiny cell phone speaker. Secondly, I hate this song. I don't know what song it is, but if you like it, I hate it. And third of all, you're an asshole.

WOW! Wowee wow wow! You have the technology to play MP3's from your mobile device. OOOOOOOOOH I'm so impressed. You, and everyone else in America. I think even my friends cat Nigel has a cell that plays music. So if you're trying to show off, it's not working. If you're trying to make me feel a violent pang in my heart stronger than most violent pangs I've felt before, then job well done.

If you're so desperate to be noticed, can you do something that's a quieter plea for attention, like tattoo your face?

I think instead of handing out sandwiches to the homeless, I want to start a nonprofit organization where we hand out headphones to you mindless, barbaric, ignorant, no-respect-for-anyones-space savages.

What I don't get, is how only one of you ends up on every subway car and rarely do you see two of you playing your MP3's sans headphones at the same time. It must be a conspiracy. So I plan to be that competitor. Yes, me. A short white gal in a dress is going to sit right next you, take out my IPhone and blast music too. Perhaps I'll blast this song:


Maybe you'll hear the words. Shut off your music. Put down your cellie. Look over at me with tears in your eyes and mouth the words "thank you."

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Geeky Couple Practicing Drumming at the Coffee Shop,

I don't think a coffee shop is the best place to teach someone how to play drums. And I'm not talking about a little kid with spoons, I'm talking full-fledge adults banging drum sticks on a table.

There is a sign on the wall that reads "please refrain from talking on cell phones in cafe" but none that read "please refrain from drumming so loudly on your table that you shake the floor." So I guess you're free to continue being a totally obnoxious pair of assholes.

And now you're speaking the drum sounds too?! Lord help me if I hear one more "Chak Boom Ba Dom" come out of your mouths...

I'm looking around and no one else in here seems to care that you are so annoying. I can't be the only one. Or am I? Does everyone else here really think this is okay? Am I totally off here? Am I being all "square" cause I'm angry about public displays of drumming and cause not wearing a winter hat on an 83 degree day like most people in this hip NYU area coffee shop?

What was that? Did you just say "Ba Ba Dip Boom Ba Cha Cha?" of course you did. Of course.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Adam Richman,

(WARNING THIS IS A LOVE LETTER!)

You have the best job. The best. traveling and eating? Not jsut eating, but eating massive amounts of delicious food? Oh your show is like porn for me.


Let's be friends please. Thanks.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Man Picking Things Off Of Your Dreadlocks,

Can you please wait till you get home to do that mon? I assume I am not the only one on the subway that does not want whatever you are finding and then flicking to land on them.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear People Who Advertise Their Business In The Blog Comments,

Knock it off. I reject your comments anyhoo, so why even bother? You and those people who advertise their events on other peoples MySpace and Facebook walls should all go and write on eachothers assholes.

I know even know what that last line means, but I like it.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Readers,

My column at ShoestringMag.com now has a name: "Pop Culture Pen Pal!" Every month I'll be writing a new deardouchebag.com style letter for them that's focused on fashion, culture, and/or budget-living. September is about tiny living spaces, read it by clicking here. Enjoy!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Super Creepy Sex Doll,

Okay, I'd like to think I'm pretty open-minded about sex, fetishes, sex toys, etc. But I just read about you on BUST.com and you scare me! A German company called First Androids created you, a sex doll, that is very close to a real lady. So close in fact that you breath, have a pulse, can perform oral sex acts and you a g-spot that responds to orgasm! What?!

Half the women I know complain they can't find a good guy, but you, a fake woman, can?! And you can cum!? Why are you stealing orgasms from the women of the world in need of an actual, real, fuck?

Then again, I'm not sure a real woman would want to fuck a guy who would fuck a doll, So I take the above statement back, keep those guys. Sadly I think your existence just perpetuates the idea that some men don't want a girlfriend or a wife, but just a vagina. A brainless, lifeless, "won't-talk-back" vagina.

I just vomited up my coffee.

Truth is I think most men do want more than a vagina. So then what kind of guy buys you? I sorta feel bad. I mean, are the men who buy that hopelessly loney? Or is this some sort of sick twisted control thing? A man gets to buy a (fake) womanand do whatever he wants with her. Is this type of thing healthy? (Although, who's to say what's healthy or not when it comes to sex? I mean, I've heard of weirder things than having sex with a doll).

I'm just scared, I mean if people are creating a humanoid to have sex with, what other humanoid creatures can be created and for what reasons.

I never ever want to meet you. Ever.

You do have pretty hair though. That's nice.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Kanye (again),

Okay after seeing you on Leno, I kinda feel bad for you.

A great Sesame Street songwriter once said: "Everyone makes mistakes oh yes they do. Your sister and your brother and your mom and dad too. Big people. Small people. Matter of fact, all people. Everyone makes mistakes so why can't you?"

I guess "why can't you" is because you are on television making a big mistake in front of the entire world. But I'm sure most of us after drinking a bottle of Hennessy would have done the same. I hope this humbles you a bit. And I also hope you stop wearing those strange window shade style sunglasses. What are those things? How do you see thru them?


Anyhoo, best of luck to you man. May we all have a swift recovery from this drama. (Get it? Swift? Like as in Taylor Swift? Haha good one Giulia! Not really.)

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Pancreatic Cancer,

You're an asshole.


Dirty Dancing - The funniest videos are a click away

We'll miss you Patrick!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Kayne,

I think I know what happen. You must have gotten some sort of brain injury when your barber was shaving that ridiculous swizzle wizzle fo' shizzle paisley haircut onto your head.



You're going for that whole "I have a field maze on my head" look right?


Fun!

So in the middle of getting that cornfield coiffure, the razor cut too close to your skull slicing off the part of your brain that contains self control and class. I mean, we all have favorites. We all have people we'd like to win things over other people. But you verbally poo pooed all over Taylor Swifts bright star. In the words of Stepahnie Tanner "how rude!" Take it away Steph...


You said on your blog "I feel like Ben Stiller in "Meet the Parents" when he messed up everything and Robert De Niro asked him to leave... That was Taylor's moment and I had no right in any way to take it from her. I am truly sorry."

Alright fine. Perhaps what's more annoying, is that in addition to putting attention on yourself during Taylor Swifts speech, we are continuing to put attention on you for days (probably weeks, months, oh God years) to follow because now everyone is talking about you! Your name is all over Facebook and Twitter ( Katy Perry Tweeted "Fuck you Kayne, it's like you stepped on a kitten.”) I heard 4 different conversations about you on the NYC subways today. Even Obama called you a 'jackass.' Wow, you even got the president talking shit!

Wait a minute, that's not a corn field maze on your head! It's an alien created crop circle!


Oh God, did aliens steal the part of your brain that contains self control? Hmm, but ET and ALF were nice dudes. I can't imagine they'd do a mean thing like that.

E.T. just wanted Reeses.

And ALF just wanted cats.


Okay so maybe it wasn't aliens.

Alright I'm sick of talking about this already, hopefull soon everyone else will be too.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Umbrellas,

Why do I even bother with you? Regardless of if I paid $2 or $20 for you, you always break. I hate how I felt today walking thru sideways rain, praying that you will do as promised and protect me, only for you give up. You throw your hands in the air in defeat and fall apart.

Yet I can't let go of you. I see your collegues abandoned in trash cans and street corners all over the city. I should leave you with them to die and go to rain gear heaven (or hell). But no, I keep you, you failure! I keep you in my purse with a bizarre sense of optimism that the next time I open you up you will magically have found the strength to shield me from the harsh introduction to fall weather. Please, don't disappoint me again.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Asshole on 7th Ave & 35th St.

I'm wearing a red dress, that is correct. No need to keep hollering "girl you wearing a red dress!" at me. I'm glad you know the hues in the color spectrum, way to go! But your slobbering, spit-filled screaming is not impressive. Guess what? I am now seeing red too.

Ooooh, oh okay you're going to follow me for 2 blocks yelping "GIRL I SAID YOU WEARING A RED DRESS! I LIKE ME SOME RED!" Oh, well in that case let's go back to your mama's basement and make ugly little children together. Is that what you'd like me to do?

Wait, what's that you said? You said "I like them boots. You wanna step on me with those boots?" Step on you? I wouldn't even want the dirty soles of my sweet leather shoes to get within 5 feet of your infested, pathetic excuse for a human, self.

And yet again, I feel like I did something wrong by wearing a hot lil' outift in public. I guess cute dresses paired with beautiful booties beg for harassment. Shame on me for liking style.

I wish I took your photo and posted it on one of my favorite websites hollabacknyc.com, but I was to scared to reach into my bag for my phone, fearful that my leaning over would cause a hint more of cleavage to show and then I'd really be begging for your harassment. Right?

I think you dropped your beeper.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Recession,

Sorry I haven't written in a few days, it was labor day weekend and I needed to take a vacation from not really having a fulltime job.

Seriously enough already. As previously mentioned in my last letter, I just read The Secret and have been following the whole law of attraction/creative visualization stuff as far as money goes, and I'm still broke. Me and the rest of the world. Or so it seemed, until I watched this:

One of my heros Joan Rivers has a new show "How'd You Get So Rich" in which she asks rich people the title question. Apparently some folks are recession proof. (Dammit, why couldn't I have though of the million dollar idea My Breast Friend?!)

But I refuse to loose it. Sure, I just cried when I realized my credit card bill is due today and I can't pay it. I may have stomped my feet and yelled "No fair! No fair!" when I went to the ATM and saw that yet again, I have overdrafted my account. Perhaps it's taken me a couple extra hours (not minutes, hours) to get out of bed lately because lyingin bed is free, and everything outside of the safety of my room seems to suck my wallet dry. BUT, I will not loose it. I am awake, I am showered, I am ready to take on the day (shit! it's almost 2pm?!) I will not be beated by you evil economy. I will not.

Dammit, I shoulda kept all those buy one free McDonalds coupons my mom always tries to give me.

No, no I shouldn't. I may feel a little defeated, but not processed, fatty, fake beef defeated.


Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Prosciutto,

(This is a love letter!)
I love you. I love you so much that I was distracted by you and forgot to post yesterday! I was in a fabulous mood. It was one of those days where New York City felt new again! I sat in the park and finished reading "The Secret" (such a good book) while eating a delectable panini made of you and an interesting combo of your friends; goat cheese, spinach, roasted pepper and olive spread with a lovely hazelnut coffee. Why would I bother logging onto the Internet to write a complaint letter when I was having such a blast with you, my salty sinful friend? Sure I could have written a note to the man sitting on the bench to my left yelling at squirrels. Or I could have written a letter to the guy wearing sunglasses at the Black Crowes concert last night who stepped on my foot and didn't say sorry. (Perhaps he would have seen my foot had he not been wearing sunglasses at night. Sorry dude, you ain't no Corey Hart.) Or I could have written to the tiny little man who sucked his teeth and called me "mami" for at least 3 blocks as I walked home last night.

But instead on focused on what was beautiful- sitting in the sun with a fantastic book and my handsome ham, my porky playboy, my cured-meat machoman, my cutie pie cold cut. Oh embrace me with your sinful saltiness! My precious Prosciutto, will you marry me?

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Dude Requesting Me on Facebook,

I'm sure you are great. Really, Kenny or Denny or Benny (which all seem to be the names of strangers who send me such requests) you seem wonderful, truly. I mean, kudos to you for wanting to make my cyber-acquaintance. I'm always flattered when someone wants to be my friend whether it's based on genuine real-life interactions or simply cause my photo looks fun on a networking site. I mean that. I am a sucker for attention. And since I do put myself out there in the public eye and mostly use Facebook as a tool to shamelessly and shamefully promote my shows, writing, etc etc, I often accept friendship requests from strangers. I encourage people who like my work to connect with me online.

However today, I clicked "ignore" to you. I left you lingering in my requests lists for weeks because frankly, I hate saying no. I mean it's not just "no" it's "no" right to your face, literally, your little face is just pasted there next to your sweet plea of "confirm! confirm!" Don't get me wrong, you, with all those tattoos and that sultry spiked (are those frosted tips?) hair, I'm sure you are a super A+ sorta guy. Oh sketchy looking stranger, maybe if you were wearing a shirt in your profile pic I would have confirmed your friendship request. That, and maybe if you weren't also holding your daughter ( I assume it's your daughter) in such a sexy-ish? shot.

Again, I'm sure you meant no harm in wanting me to be your 7th friend but I just can't do it. The last time I confirmed friendship with a similar looking shirtless character who lived in Lebanon, I soon after got an email from the fellow saying "you look very senzual, can I take you out on a date?" Now I assume he meant "sensual." That, or he was referring to this random musical duo:

Whatever the case may be, I had to delete Mr. Middle East because I just don't want that sort of Internet interaction in my life. And since you and he both seem to hate clothing, which clearly means you are both totally like twins, I also don't want to interact with you. Unless of course you perhaps toss on a tank top, then maybe you can have the pleasure of knowing vital info about me like "Giulia took the Which Horse Are You Quiz? Result is Appaloosa."

Love Always,
Giulia

ps. This rule does not go for women with topless profile pics. You gals can request me all you'd like. Yea! Bring it! Dat's what I'm talkin' about!
pss. That last ps. was a joke. I just want to see what it felt like to be really creepy. And what I learned is it feels gross to be really creepy.

Dear Chris Brown,

I just read that you said you cannot remember hitting your ex-girlfriend Rihanna and that you still love her. Okay so, you pleaded guilty to beating her but don't remember hitting her? You publicly apologized for beating her but don't remember hitting her? Perhaps I need some sense knocked into me (pun intended!) but how does one plead guilty and apologize for something they don't recall doing?

I'm sure find out the answer to this and more (including why you are wearing a bow tie) when you appear on Larry King this Wednesday.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Producers of More To Love,

(Much of this entry was originally published on the blog I work for Takepart.com. I am reposting because this blog entry belongs on Dear Douchebag, and because I'm on vacation this weekend and it's easier to cut and paste while lying on the beach.)

Yes! As if husband hunting shows aren't already pathetic, just add the twist of highlighting how heavy the contestants are! The show lists each woman’s weight on the screen! If you are going to put such emphasis on how large everyone on the show is, I wish you would also put emphasis on how to help these people get healthy. Shows like “The Biggest Loser” helps, crap like “More to Love” that exploits plus-sized people hurts.

And why are overweight people segregated to their own show? If you want to promote the show as a “real” dating show for “real women” then why not mix people of all shapes and sizes? Isn’t that what the “real” dating world is like?

And I hate the term it when overweight women are called “real women.” Does that mean that someone who is a size 4,6,8,10 not a “real woman”? Please, can we stop pitting women against one another? All women are real… unless of course they are a computer-generated image or a robot.

Then again, I won’t be surprised if a freaky, “Weird Science” style dating show comes out next season where one man builds 20 custom designed mechanical mates and then picks one android to be his dream wife.

Even though I had decided I hated the show after only watching 10 minutes of the premiere, I still keep tuning every week just to see how nasty the train would wreck. I cannot express how uncomfortable I felt while watching this show. As if the “Bachelor” didn’t already make women feel like they needed a husband to feel good, now “More To Love” makes women feel like they need a husband to also feel comfortable with their bodies. The ladies are ALWAYS CRYING about weight-related depression and rejection saying that “guys never give me a chance” because of my weight. And here comes Luke, which the show has portrayed as the one and ONLY guy who can love a larger woman. While my heart goes out to these ladies who have suffered insecurities due to their weight, isn’t this show just feeding into the whole fat-girl-can’t-get-a-guy stereotype? I know plenty of bigger gals who are in great relationships, yet “More to Love” seems to indicate that only a made-for-tv plump prince can come in and make these girls feel like a plus-sized princess. Isn’t finding “true love” hard for lots of folks, of all shapes and sizes?

By the middle of episode two, some women were already saying they could fall in love with Luke, that they have never been treated so special the way Luke treats them cause Luke takes them in private jets and on yatchs. Um, guess what? Luke didn’t take you on a jet or a yatch, Fox did! Luke didn’t plan that romantic date, Fox did! Luke is just some cheesy dude who takes advantage of any moment of self-loathing you ladies have and then swoops in with variations of a “let’s kiss” line.

And as if on-air desperate dating wasn’t humiliating enough, you guys loooooooves to show everyone eating. Really? Do you really have to always show these girls with food in their hands getting all giddy about the fact that “it’s so nice to date someone that I can eat in front of!” We get it, there is more to love. But no, please, highlight a shot of contestant Bonnie sucking down a kebab and exclaiming “I love me a stick of meat!” Drive that fat point home. And be sure to get sound bites of Luke constantly saying “I love to eat! I love to eat!” because it wasn’t clear to us that he likes to eat.

Now imagine if Luke kept saying “I love to drink morning, noon, and night till I piss myself in my sleep” or “I love shooting heroin.” Would that be endearing and fun? You see, overeating is an addition yet for some reason it’s an acceptable addiction to make light of in our society. But obesity can kill people. An article in the Washington City Paper makes this great point: “If the source of the contestants’ hardships were something more openly maligned–anorexia, meth, furries–FOX wouldn’t have touched the concept. But being heavyset resides in a strange cultural limbo. Public health advocates call obesity a “killer,” but unlike tobacco, we’re not supposed to comment on or disapprove of fatness.”

“More to Love” is quite simply making spectacle of these people. The constant discussion of weight on this show portrays these people as though their size is their only defining characteristic. And the show further “otherizes” plus size people. It segregates love, as if a plus sized person and a thinner person could never be happily together. It perpetuates the notion that obesity is not a health epidemic, when the truth is obesity is a disease. It makes a mockery of body image, just calling the show “More” to Love puts all the focus on the gimmick of size, as if the only quality needed for a “fat girl” to fall in love is to find a “fat guy” who will accept her.

My favorite episode thus far has been the prom one where Luke gave these women the "prom of theirs dreams." Um, sharing your prom date with 15 other women? Sounds more like a nightmare (or I suppose if you're a kinky it could be a fantasy).

A few weeks ago I watch the show with my mom and when one of the girls was sucking face with Luke and telling the camera that she knows “he is the one” or whatever, my mom said to me “please Giulia, I don’t want to watch anymore of these stupid people, I want to watch smart people.” So we changed the channel to watch “America’s Got Talent.” Good call Mommy, good call.

More to Love? More like, More to Hate! Ha! Get it? Play on words! More to Hate! Badump-bump! So cleaver, right? Wrong. See what you're making me do, you're making me make dumb jokes. It's all your fault.

Ugh, I need a snack.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Antonio Sabato Jr.,

Why?




"One hunk struggling to find a sweetie" well, you should have dated me back in 1990 when I loved you, I was single, and I was twelve years old.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Readers,

(Warning! This is a love letter)

I really like you and hope you like my newest video at Funnyordie.com:

"We" - watch more funny videos

If you like it, be sure to go to the site and click "funny." Your acceptance is very important to me.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Lady Exposing the Bottom 3/4 of Your Butt,

We are at Six Flags, there are already enough assholes running around without you having your hanging out the back of your "skirt." Us that even considered a skirt or is it just a three inch long belt? The only time such an outfit is even remotely aceptable us if your legs are wrapped around a pole and Mottley Crue is blasting in the background. But honestly I think even strippers would find your get up too trampy. The least you could do is put on underwear, unless of course catching rare diseases from having your bare junk touch fithly roller coaster seats is the kind of "great adventure" you were looking for.

Love Always,
Giulia

ps. For a moment I was sad not to have snapped a photo of you on my phone but then again, why should you more exposure? There's really not much else to expose.

Dear Hipsters in Really Big Glasses,

I'm confused. When you wear big bifocals you get called stylish, but when my sister wore big bifocals in junior high all she got was insecure, stared at, and not asked to the semi-formal dance.

The following photo is of my family at Disney World in 1988. My sister (bless her heart) is the one in the big glasses on the far left. Was it just that she was so far ahead of the curve that she was in style 20+ years too soon? I am the one in the sweet sailor outfit. And those two fabulous looking folks are my parents, the ones who tortured my sister with buying her those horrid glasses and kept her hair boyishly short for much of her childhood.


Now most things you all do, I get it. I even like lots of it. Heck even my more conservative friends have called me a "hipster" when i sported the sundress/cowboy boot look. But please, I am no hipster. Hipsters are a very dedicated breed, dedicated to being so similarly different. When I lived on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg Brooklyn and there was a woman who wore a tutu while riding a unicycle with a parrot on her shoulder. Now she, she is a hipster. Me? Ha! I am merely a girl who likes cute looks. That being said, I will repeat, I dig many of your species stylings. Like big sunglasses, I get that, you're incognito MaryKate and Ashley Olsen style. You wear them when you don't want anyone to see you buying Starbucks because you are "anti-big corporations-loyal-to-your-local-coffee-house" even though you're sipping a Venti Mocha Frappachino. I get it. But big glasses, glasses? I mean, we can see your face through the lenses and the lenses just make your eyes and face look warped. Oh wait, you probably want us to see your face so we can see your very very very cool "I'm so unaffected" expression.

And these glasses are pricey! I thought hipsters were all broke artists living in shared lofts writing songs about how "the man" just doesn't understand. But apparently it's more important to spend $55 on a pair of dumb glasses vs. laundry

Sorry, my bad again you of course do laundry, you just spend tons of money to look like you don't wash your clothes. Again, apologies.

I mean, don't get me wrong there are plenty of folks who rocked these glasses well such as this sassy pants:


and this little rascal



and let's not forget this pompous jerk who steals candy from kids



But you dear hipster, you just look silly in such eyewear.

I think I a most annoyed by this because you hipsters in big glasses are tricky, especially of also wearing an ironic 80's sweater such as exhibit A:

Tricky in the sense that I see you, I see your big dorky glasses, I see your big dorky sweater and I assume "foreign exchange student." I begin to sympathy, saying to myself "oh the poor thing, they don't know about fashion. Probably a struggling American newbie that can't afford more than the ugly wool sweater her great aunt knitted back on the farm in Randomcountryslovania." You get my sympathy. You get it tricky hipster. But then I hear you say, in your perfect American accent something about your "latest art installation is all about emptiness, so I decided to create a piece in which there is nothing but air in a box to represent life's undeniable solitude."
Wait, what? You're not a struggling immigrant? You mean you choose to dress this way? Ahhh hipster, fool me once shame on you...shame on you.

Look, I'm all about expressing ones self thru fashion so please my sweet hipster in big glasses, tell me what your glasses are trying to say? Maybe I will understand (doubtful).

I just hope that someday those big glasses will help you all see. I mean really see. See what a terrible trend this was. Oh and maybe you'll also see what a terrible trend the male skinny jean was too. Men in spandex denim? Yikes!

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Subway Acrobats,

While I may be sincerely impressed with your one handed back flips, please don't do them on the subway. It's already very crowded on this car and frankly, there is little to no room for you and 14 of your pals to breakdance.

Am I wrong for hoping one your heads slams hits the floor knockin' while you be body rockin? I don't want you to be seriously injured, I swear I am not that mean. I just want the universe to give you a little warning that the subway is not the place for putting on such an elaborate show. Why should we, the passengers, have to move from where we are standing so that you can force us to watch you do cartwheels to Kool Mo Dee mixes. I like cartwheels and I like Kool Mo Dee, just not on my train ride please. I mean really, look how cramped it is:


And while we're at it, I'm not going to buy a candy bar to support your highschool basketball team. You look like you're 35 which means your clearly lying and not in highschool or if at 35, you are in highschool I think selling candy is the least of your problems.

Please boyz, dance, flip, skip, bump, jump, whatever you wanna do, just please do it where there is room to move. Heck, do it and do it well above ground and I'll even put a dollar or two in your hat. But please, leave the subway space free for people to stand, I'd prefer not to be squashed between the subway doors and an extremely soaking-wet, saturated, stinky, sweaty sweaty, sweat, "I-hope-that's-his-cell-phone-poking-against-my-thing" sweaty man.

Love Always,
Giulia

Dear Iphone,

I love you. I love you so much I hate you. I hate you because you do so much causing me to so little. I mean, email, Ipod, texting and Internet? How am I suppose to keep my paws off you?

And note, I called them paws. Paws I said! Apparently, my hands are fat baseball mitts because I can't seem to master the art of touch screen typing. Seriously, I can't tell you how many times I wanted to text "what's going on tonight?" but what came out with my Frankenstien fingers was "qgsyd 746748 yibohfr?" Thanks for making me feel like a beast Iphone!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell! Please, please don't freeze up on me. It's not your fault I can't spell.

One question though, how is it you can do just about everything under the sun except for texting photos? Do you not want me to send pics of my boobs to my boyfriend? why are you keeping my boyfriend and my boobs apart? What did we ever do to you?

None the less, I like you lots. I mean I'm using you to write this blog post instead of paying attention to the person talking to me, that's pretty neato. (Thanks Iphone for making me a rude asshole).

Love always,
Giulia

Dear Readers, (yet again)

I'm BACK! After a two year, yes 2 YEAR hiatus from this lovely blog I decided to start it up again. Why? Well, because even after 2 years of ending this blog I still have people asking me "when are you going to post something new on Dear Douchebag? I miss it." Seriously, someone telling me they miss my writing makes me bust at the seams with goofy glee. Thankyou, thankyou! Not only that, but I just opened up the deardbag@gmail.com account and found that people were still commenting and submitting letters even after I closed shop. Apparently, people like this thing. And not to mention that, well I like this thing. But paid gigs (nope this blog does not pay my bills, can you believe it?), other projects (like this, this, this, and this), distractions (I'm sorta obsessed with watching reality shows about little people) and life in general got in the way of me working on some projects that I really enjoyed (like this blog and my other creative baby themessage-board.com which is also being resurrected later this month).

Don't blame it on sunshine, don't blame it on moonlight, don't blame it on good times, perhaps blame it on the boogie, suddenly I am feeling inspired to start back up on this lil' blog that put a smile on my face and from what it sounds like, it put a smile on your face too.

And for those whom this blog has caused a frowny face, because you've told me I'm an "asshole" in the comments. I'm back for your enjoyment too. (Insert smiley face icon here). Really, feel free to keep tell me I'm an asshole if in fact I am being an asshole. My opinion is just one opinion and I am always open to be proven wrong. (As I was so nicely put in my place for saying that big headphones look silly. I still think it's hilarious that the big headphones post has gotten the most complaints of all. Damn, people really love their sound gear).

Wow, two years and so many dbags I didn't get to write about. I wish I had the umph to put together a montage video like the memorial video they do at the Oscars, except instead of remembering actors and actresses that we lost, remember dbags that we gained over the past two years like Nadya Suleman, Cyclone Nargis,Soulja Boy, all those damn suicide bombers, Bernie Madoff, everyone who voted yes on Prop 8, Michael Vick, Swine Flu, and many many many more (please feel free to name your favorite dbags that I missed writing about in the comments below). But, editing videos takes time, patience, and hard work, and jeez I just got back on this blogging bandwagon, and now you want me to edit a video?! Gimmie a break would ya?

(Sorry for the outburst, it's not you, it's me)

So please, bookmark this blog, send in your submissions to this blog, and enjoy (with a sense of humor) this blog where I will celebrate the worst and best life has to offer. And on that note, this song seems totally appropriate for this occasion. Let's jam!


I missed you so much!
Love,
Giulia

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 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 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 so very much.

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 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 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