Letter of Fug: Y'all, I'm So Tired

Hi, y’all. Sorry it’s been so long since we’ve talked, but I have had a lot of stuff on my plate, you know? Like, a lot. I am just so exhausted. Seriously. Look at me:

I just don’t even have the energy to even, like, brush my hair anymore, you know? My mom used to do it for me when my arms were too tired from dancing, but she’s real mad at me right now. She said something the other night about my “passive-aggressive acting out,” and I don’t really know what that means but it doesn’t sound very nice and she slammed the door after she said it so I know she’s mad.

I had a real bad weekend, people. Okay, so I’ve been really really busy fighting all the false tabloids. Writing angry letters is really tiring, first of all, because I have to keep getting up and going to the dictionary, but it’s totally worth it because it’s a cause I really believe in. I mean, I am so tired of reading about how I’m all pregnant and Kevin is all going to Vegas and whooping it up while I’m stuck in this stupid condo throwing up while those guys are painting our house in Malibu and I don’t even like that house. I mean, I AM pregnant and Kevin IS running off to Vegas and drinking with those trampy-ass strippers and I swear to God if I catch him touching one of them I’m going to snatch him bald but I really don’t know how they know any of that except for that ONE phone conversation I had with that one girl who works for the Star.

Anyway. So I’ve been doing that. And then we came to the Miramont for the weekend and I was getting ready to go to brunch with Jamie Lynne and I was putting on my jeans and they don’t even fit anymore because I’m getting so fat from this baby and then I just started to cry because I didn’t have anything else to wear and I couldn’t find Kevin because he told me he couldn’t listen to my voice for one more minute and then he left the suite and went and got his own room – using my credit card because I am beginning to think that he’s just with me for my money and let me tell you I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THAT -- but I really wanted some bacon so I had to put on this stupid muumuu that Jamie had bought in the gift shoppe as a gift for our grandma and then we went into brunch and I couldn’t stop crying and I could barely eat my hot links.

And you’d think that would be all the bad things that would happen to me but no, then I found out that Bit Bit is PREGNANT and the Puppy Daddy is MY BROTHER BRYAN’S DOG. That is INCEST, y’all. INCEST is totally wrong and gross, which I have learned from watching Passions recently, and also from the Bible and stuff.  What am I supposed to do? My dog can’t have an incest baby, but I can’t get the dog an abortion but what if her puppies have two heads or little fish gills or something? That is NOT RIGHT. I don’t have TIME to deal with INCEST PUPPIES. I have A LOT GOING ON.  I am fighting the false tabloids and I am trying to help Kevin make an album although HE IS NO JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE and I am NOT just talking about SINGING but you didn’t hear that from me. I am ALSO trying to create a warm and loving womb for my fetus, like I read in some book about babies and stuff, and I am ALSO trying to quit Red Bull because it’s bad for the baby AND I caught Kevin stealing money from my purse the other day and I am beginning to regret even marrying him because for one thing LOOK AT HIS PANTS and also I don’t understand why he won’t tie his shoes even though I used to think that was cute, it’s starting to REALLY BOTHER ME because he LOOKS LIKE AN IDIOT and also HE KEEPS TRIPPING AND I REALLY REALLY THINK MAYBE I SHOULDN’T HAVE MARRIED HIM PLEASE PLEASE CALL ME JUSTIN PLEASE.

God. I am so tired. I can’t even handle any of this anymore. I’m just going to take a nap after I call the bank and change my ATM PIN so Kevin doesn’t take off to TJ again. Last time he didn’t even bring me any Percocet. I am beginning to think maybe he is not really a very thoughtful person.