Dear Anna Nicole Smith,
I will admit that our relationship began by accident. I was very excited when I was invited to join a Fafarazzi Celebrity Fantasy League, and I will admit I immediately began entertaining grandiose visions of a "Shock and Awe" type victory.
But as Donald Rumseld would tell you if he weren't such a dickhead, sometimes pride prevents you from planning carefully enough. My fatal misstep was failng to fully grasp the "ranking" element of the "draft pick" system. Thus I squandered my first-round pick on you, rather than a higher-point-scoring celebrity like Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton.
But as disappointed as I was, you have really stepped up to the plate, undergoing tragedy after bizarre tragedy in order to score points for me. Of course, that hasn't stopped me from being dead last in my league. (As inspiring as your efforts were, they couldn't rally the rest of my bedraggled team--Brandon Davis, Mary-Kate Olsen, Nick Carter, and it just gets worse from there--to do anything more exciting than your standard getting-caught-peeing-on-someone's lawn kind of thing, and that only gets you one point.
Plus, how could you have forseen the heights to which other celebrities would climb in the last few weeks? How were you to know that Nicole Richie would commit herself to an undisclosed "it's sure not for an eating disorder though" treatment clinic, collapse at a bar, and discharge herself from treatment all in a single weekend? Or that Madonna would catapault herself back to her circa 1989 banned-from-MTV levels of fame via constant blathering about her sketchy poor man's Angelina-type adoption? Or, God save us all, that Kevin Federline would be all over the gossip blogs like flies on the carcas of our culture's self-regard?
But anyway, Anna Nicole, yesterday you really outdid yourself. You were hospitalized for pneumonia on the very same day that one of your possible baby daddies accused you of dyeing your infant's hair in order to disguise its paternity. Shakespearian, my dear.
And so I know you must have been as crushed as I was when Fafarazzi failed to give you ANY POINTS AT ALL for that ingenious double-whammy. They're all, You can have one point for something Patrick Dempsey's ex-wife said about him, but baby-hair-dyeing . . . meh?
Anyway, ANS, I just wanted to let you know that it's not the points that matter to me anymore. I know that you've given me your all, and there's nothing more I could ask of you. (You, on the other hand, Tori Spelling--WHERE is the drama?) Please just know that I appreciate your efforts. Now go get some rest.