Amanda's Musings: Dear Janice Dickinson

Janice Dickinson - Pirates 3 Premier - Disneyland, originally uploaded by ~nico~.

For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off you. And it isn’t because you are the self-proclaimed super model. And it isn’t because of your emaciated, corpse-esque physique.

It is because you are certifiably ca-razy.

Your body is an enigma, though, my dead friend. With the majority of your weight derived from silicone implants and other plastic bodily adjustments, I can’t understand how your collection of cosmetic procedures could make you look a solid 35 years older than you are.

As a testament to the trashy television shows that so enrapture me, I have been watching your latest venture “I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.” I have also watched “The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency” and even got my work out on while watching the train wreck that was a “behind the headlines” account of your rise to fame.

From those viewing experiences, I gleaned a few things about you:

1. You are undoubtedly one of the reasons why young women puke up their dinners and work out until they pass out.
2. You are not anywhere near as attractive as you once were (or remotely as hot as you believe you are at this point in your waning career).
3. You are a loud-mouthed, aggressive woman who was inevitably kicked in the teeth and discouraged as a youth. I can only imagine that’s why you treat other human beings like they were put on this earth to give you an impromptu pedicure should such a procedure be so desired.

But girlfriend, I won’t lie: That overzealous, I-could-give-two-craps attitude is the reason why I kept watching. There is a small sliver of my heart that emotes a great love for people like you … people who exude so much confidence that they can’t possible understand how someone could possible be offended.

That sliver went into cardiac arrest last night, though, Janice. As sad as I was to see you get voted out of the jungle in your quest to fight it out with other B-list (or C or D-list) “celebrities,” I think it might be the best thing for you.

As the other “stars” go on to compete in asinine stunts to win food and immunity – and ultimately a sizable donation to the cause of their choice – you will be back in the States, criticizing fatties at your modeling agency (you know, those heifers who can’t fit into a size 2 mini) and berating any number of poor schleps over any number of small gaffs.

I just hope that part of your homecoming plans include a trip to a certified therapist to deal with some issues I’m not even sure you are aware of, one of which must be a deep neurosis.

I’m not a psychologist, but I do have some expertise in the matter. I am crazy myself. The only difference, darlin’, is I’m medicated.

So from one looney toon to another: In the name of all that is holy, please invest what you will spend on your next Botox injection for some mood stabilizing drugs.

Warmest Regards,

Amanda “Thank you, Effexor!” Gillooly

My first 'Monster' million

An open letter by Amanda Gillooly

Dear Producers of the “Monster” CD collections,

I’ve been a faithful viewer of your program-length infomercials for years, although the collections you’ve peddled so far aren’t really my style. “Monster Ballads” was just a little too mature for me. I was too young to consider any of the musicians in Extreme hotties, and I couldn’t name one love song Mr. Big ever crooned.

As for “Monsters of Rock?” I’ll admit, I dig Living Colour a bit and there are some Alice Cooper songs that are pretty bitchin'. But I never thought the likes of Winger, Warrant and Ratt were “rock” as much.

So I thought about it, and I consulted my pal Sam Adams, and I think I have an idea that will help you sell records. My goal is much more humble: I’m just trying to make my first million.

Picture it: “Monster Cowbell.” I’ve long been a fan of the instrument, but I won’t deny that Will Farrell’s portrayal of the cowbell player in the infamous Saturday Night Live skit that reminisced about the making of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” lended it national appreciation.

The befro’d comedian, wearing a too-tight V-neck sweater rocked out with the thing, gyrating maniacally as the other members of Blue Oyster Cult tried in earnest to cut the track.

The skit, while it made me collapse a lung laughing like a fool, also made me think of the beauty that is inherent to the under-utilized instrument – and how it has brought so much unbridled joy to the world through the plethora of songs that feature it.

So I hereby present to you, dear producers, with a sampling of proposed track list.

Here goes:
“Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” BTO
“Breaking the Law” Judas Preist
“Life’s Been Good” Joe Walsh
“Honky Tonk Woman" The Rolling Stones

Is that too old school? Gotcha. Here are some newer hits:
“Welcome to the Jungle” Guns ‘n Roses
“Pets” Porno for Pyros
“The Distance” Cake
“My Sharona” The Knack

Need something to grove to? I got you for that, too. How about something like:
“Groove is in the Heart” Dee Lite
“Funky Cold Medina” Ton Loc
“Play that Funky Music” Wild Cherry
“Baby’s Got Back” Sir Mix a Lot

Personally, I believe that “Monster Cowbell” will have us both blowing our noses with C-notes we’ll be so filthy rich. Let me know what you think, and if a corporate jet might come with any record deal.

Thank you for your time.

Warmest Regards,

Amanda “I’d like an oversized check, please” Gillooly