As I was watching Jessica Simpson sleep the other night, I couldn’t help but think that her life has become kind of a joke. She’s like a younger, dumber Jennifer Aniston without the appetite suppressants. I remember loving Newlyweds. Mostly because I couldn’t picture anyone else wanting to date (not to mention freaking MARRY) either Jessica Simpson or Nick Lachey, so it seemed like a perfect match. Since they divorced, Nick dated that freakie doll-looking chick Vanessa Manillo. I can’t be bothered to look her up so I may have spelled her name wrong. I think they just broke up. Maybe he got tired of sleeping with someone who looks like they still compete in children’s beauty pageants.
Jessica, after dating/being peed on by John Mayer for two rounds of weirdo dating, hooked up with NFL football player Tony Romo. He recently dumped her (for the second time -ouchies) the day before her birthday. So expect a massive weight gain, followed by more Pro-Active zit cream commercials and maybe another budget shoe line. For her sake, I hope the paparazzi respect her privacy and let her eat her body weight in Mexican alone and in peace. Hey, I’d have a touch of the sads too if I was just dumped for the billionth time and my uglier, less talented sister Ashlee was just cast in the new Melrose Place and had a cute husband (Pete Wentz) and a cute baby (it seemed genetically impossible but little Bronx dodged the bad nose big chin DNA).
Oh, and Jessica, if you’re reading this I would totally be your friend, if you want. I give good advice, I’m a great hair braider and I’m already intimately familiar with the contents of your underwear drawer (you know, given my stalking and all). So call me.