Today I despise Dina Lohan.
Dina and I go way back to summer camp. 1985.
I was a counselor at an unspecified government facility and Dina Lohan was my counselee. Dina told me things I could never say, by law, if they hadn't taken away my f***king Psychology license. But, I can shout them now!
She made a move on me. She used my love of Sweet & Low and told me there was an even sweeter tasting artificial sweetener except this one you snort up your nose. She was right. I lost 8 lbs. that night, and if you don't know what "lbs." is you shouldn't be reading this blog. She seduced me, and we did "it" despite the fact that I was "bi" then, and that day the coin had flipped to "heads". I dealt with it in the most appropriate fashion I could. Medevial Armor.
We dated for a few days. Dina bitched and complained all 3 days of it! I couldn't take it. She was speaking so fast that I thought it was Portugese. I am fluent in Portugese, so I misunderstood a lot of what she was saying, but I did hear her say, "I'm pregnant."
I said "Kill it. I'm too young to be wasting my time on babies. For goodness sake, Dina, we did it because of the Meth, and that's not a way to force a man into having a child!"
She threw a sucker punch at me, but my bodyguard Tonraq deflected with a elbow jab to her larynx. So, we broke up, and she met some convict, and had some more babies.
But I'm forced to know deep down, "Lindsay's" mine. I'm not saying anything publicly because I really don't care. She just taking up too much of my Press. I'm not going Larry Birkhead or anything. I don't want this on my resume. Nor my biography that's why I am settling this old score on this private blog. Plus I have 38 other children...
But the rest of this blog is for "Lindsay":
Dear "Lindsay":
It's me. Your true father, Beckett. First, lease change your first name. Your mother has a history of naming children poorly. I had no say. I am sorry. It's tough being the popular girl with such a lousy first name. These are my choices, daughter: Leighanna, Vianca, Lajita, Akeldama, Jezebel or Penny. If you had a unique name you wouldn't have to overcompensate. I'm not scolding you. Trust me, Penny, I've had my nostrils sewn together a couple times now. But, when you have this much blackmail over Hollywood I get great doctors.
[Stay with me this far "LIndsay". Almost done. No sleepy, yet.]
So, to recap, ditch the name. Keep in touch with Dina, but protect yourself from her "Peter Pan Syndrome". Don't call me, or that Michael guy. He's a patsy, and I don't really care. Go to acting school, or call my friend Hugh Hefner (323) 555-3187 at the Playboy Mansion - he'll hook you. But have a good life. Take better care of yourself. Don't blame anyone, but yourself and your publicist. Call Ken Sunshine. If he'll see you.
Also, your Mother was never a "Rockette" for Radio City Music Hall. Unless you call being a "Rockette" being the top call girl at Bling Bling's in Astoria, Queens. Your Mother has exaggerated that story for yeeeeeeeeears. Just like I brag about have four Bentley's on my episode of "Cribs". I only own two. The other's were borrowed from Ice T. There I said it. Let's all join a 12 Step-program.
You can just rest on your laurels, or you can be a woman and pull "an Angelina". Pay for Ken Sunshine. Whatever the cost. Look what he did for Leo, and Leo was a huge x-head.
There's a way to stay drunk and still make it look dignified.
Fix it, Penny.
Regards,
Beckett Boo, Esq.
Cat Blogger Extraordiniare!
www.beckettboo.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/beckettboo
