An Open Letter To Hugh Laurie.
January 31st, 2008 by trancejen
Hugh.
At first it was almost sort of endearing, but you have got to stop stalking me.
I understand that you found me because both Pointless Banter and TranceJen are fast becoming household names due to our reputation for producing modern, cerebral literature at its best.
I’m well aware that celebrities, as such, need to unwind with a little serious art at the end of the day. It was not fate that brought us together, Hugh, as you have so irritatingly screamed into my voicemail at least ten thousand times. It was the internet.
You saw my picture and were overwhelmed. Maybe it was my whitish locks curling softly against my substantial forehead. Perhaps it was my paper-pale skin glowing softly from the light of the camera flash. I’m not sure, Hugh, but we have a definite problem. I am not your “moonlit goddess of the urban streets”. I am an albino with a bleach addiction.
I know that you like the big girls, the thick ladies, the ba-donk-a-donk butts. I’m dieting. Soon I will be a mere fragment of this double-chinned lady that you love so well, and then what say you? Go and feed a starlet some roast beef, that is my advice, and stop obsessing over my “softly curved hips, like Botticelli’s muse”. Buddy, I have the ass of a Mack truck.
Stop, I implore you, begging me to leave Bullshit and begin a new life with you in Merry Olde England. I love him, and besides, I couldn’t be an ex-pat because my mother would follow me to the ends of the earth, kicking and screaming and pulling me back to the South Side by the hair.
So enough with the letters, Hugh, the flowers, the iPhones, the poetry, the 300-dollar hipster T-shirts covered in your tears, and the other assorted expensive gifts.
I go to Target and there you are, hiding behind the Mizrahi racks. I go to the grocery store and there you are, beseeching me with a Hot Pocket sandwich. I go to pick the J-Man up from the Y and there you are, bribing him with a PSP, saying, “Wouldn’t you like House to be your daddy?” It’s simply gotten to be completely out of control.
It has to stop here.
I don’t watch medical dramas, obviously; because that would be silly, considering the fact that I have enough medical drama of my own to start my own damned show. I mean, how ridiculous would it be for me to watch you and your pseudo-medical compatriots solve pseudo-medical mysteries on television, which is, as we all know, the root of all evil to begin with?
It would be nonsense.
Therefore I’m not a fan to begin with, Hugh, so please back off and leave me be, and we shall each go on about our own lives, me here in Chicago, and you wherever you’re taping.
You’ll find love, Hugh. I just know it. The agony of our separation won’t last forever.
Sincerely,
Jen Trance
Laura wrote on 01/31/08 at 12:27 pm :
HAHA!
Jas wrote on 01/31/08 at 1:36 pm :
I’d say send him my way, but I’m married. Poor Hugh will never find true love!
Poppy wrote on 01/31/08 at 5:59 pm :
I too was going to implore you to send Hugh my way, but damn that husband of mine might not appreciate having to share.
Melanie wrote on 01/31/08 at 9:32 pm :
Don’t worry — once the writers’ strike is over he’ll have to go back to Hollywood and you can return to your local Walgreen’s without worrying about a tall, lanky Englishman popping out of the feminine products aisle with a bouquet of roses. It will be slow and painful, and I’m not sure what he’ll do about the small, tasteful shrine to you, but I have faith that he’ll summon the strength to dry his manly tears, respect your wishes and relegate you to the sacred status of “the one who got away.”
And Hugh? Be strong, mate. You’ll find someone, I know it.
golfwidow wrote on 02/1/08 at 4:02 am :
My mother will be so relieved you’re not stealing him from her.
Mare wrote on 02/1/08 at 10:07 am :
This? Was funny! It was read aloud to the girls in the office, which was a good way to start the day. Mwah!
Stephanie wrote on 02/1/08 at 10:58 am :
I’d like House to be MY daddy (as in “who’s your daddy?”)!
Hostrauser wrote on 02/4/08 at 3:13 pm :
Ironically, Hugh was on the Super Bowl pregame show (since the game was on Fox) doing a promo for House and they asked him to predict the winner. He chose the Giants. The man’s a psychic, to boot!
Allyson wrote on 02/5/08 at 4:41 pm :
Wha? Huh? I’ll take him! Send him here. The BF can learn to deal with it!
Oh, this was satire? Hugh isn’t really stalking you? Well, if you do meet him, you know… send him to me. I’ve loved him since he showed up on an episode of friends.
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