Divine InnerBitchin’

Anyone else watching the new Pam Anderson show? Anyone care to explain why she makes men so freaking crazy?

Frankly, I just don’t get it.

I mean, it’s not like she has beautiful hair, or big eyes, or the protoype body for a Barbie doll. And, sure, she pole dances for exercise, but can she do jumping jacks? NO! No, she cannot. At least, not without fear of suffering permanent injury.

And, yeah, she has wild, uninhibited sex with rock stars, but does she ever just stop to cuddle? Huh? HUH?

Oh, and that whole idiot thing…I’ve seen her do interviews…and it’s all an act! She’s just so fake. I mean, pretending to be a stupid blonde. Does she really call that acting?!

It must really suck to be her. And now, seeing her on t.v. again, I realize why she had to go back to work. She can’t even afford clothes that fit her! How sad, she has to buy clothes that are too small to even cover her. She must be so humiliated.

It’s times like these that really make me stop and think about how lucky I am. I can’t even imagine how quickly she’d trade places with me. Not to brag or anything, but…hey! c’mon!

I live in this slamming little 2/1 cottage with original sixty year old cabinets. I have a regular 9-9 job. I can afford all of the turtleneck sweaters my heart desires. And, when you weigh what I do, you can eat anything you want. Screw dieting and exercising! And me….trust me…there are none of those noisy rock stars hanging around my pad.

Yeah.

It’s sad really.

Tonight, after I wade through the cardboard tarps that cover my floors, and duck under and around the ladders in my living room, and crawl into my bed in my simple, unpretentiously decorated bedroom to rest, I’ll think of Pam, and I’ll say a little prayer for her.

It’s the least I can do.