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Senior Will

As I leave the Entertainment field, I feel it’s my duty to provide some parting words of wisdom to the wayward celebrities I’ve spent the last five years covering. And I’d also like to give thanks to a few.  

I will no longer be tweeting at Lindsay Lohan, begging her to stay out of jail so I can get off work on time. 

I won’t be calling Justin Bieber’s manager, asking him to please put one of those baby leashes on his pint sized pop star.  

And I won’t be emailing the misguided parents of Amanda Bynes, requesting she be permanently committed. – ok… maybe that will continue to be an automated email, because that chick is just crazy and they need all the help they can get. 

But my advice doesn’t even start with Lindsay, it starts with her parents. GO THE FUCK AWAY! - To Michael, pack up as much Ed Hardy and Affliction that can fit in Dina’s knock off Louis Vuitton luggage (that Lindsay still paid for) and get! Lindsay, sweetheart, change your number and get off Tinder. It’s embarrassing. Even for you. – The Tinder thing isn’t confirmed, but do I really need to say allegedly? No. Because I’m not a reporter anymore and I can say whatever I want.  

To Justin, see if there is room in Dina Lohan’s ugly suitcase for you and leave poor Selena Gomez alone. You maintaining contact with that poor sweet girl is the same as Kanye West stealing the mic from Taylor Swift at the Grammys. So Stop.

Also, there is a difference between being able to dance and being a good dancer. Even though you are slightly less awful than Chris Brown, you’re not as talented. Knock it off. You’re a white Canadian. 

And speaking of Taylor Swift: Please continue to be the most lovely celebrity I’ve ever had the pleasure of interviewing. I will continue to defend your honor and when your eventual sex tape is released, I will swear under oath it’s me just to protect your innocence. 
Continue to have more fun than anyone else at every award show and never become aware of how awkward your dancing really is. 

Although I hate them, I can’t help but feel like I owe some an apology. You see… I didn’t defame them, or break a story about their drug use, or stint in rehab, or even sleep with their significant other, no. I killed them. 

When a celebrity or really, any newsworthy person reaches a particular age or leads a high-risk lifestyle, it’s my job to make sure there is an obituary ready to go, in case they croak. So to Betty White, and Bob Barker, I’m sorry. To Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus, I apologize. And to all the others… I hope you accomplish more in your lives before overdosing, because as it stands, your obits really aren’t that great. I’m talking to you, Paris Hilton. 

To Charlie Sheen, thank you for the period of time when you were "winning” with your Tiger Blood and Adonis DNA. That was one of the only times I really enjoyed my job. The magic I made with those audio clips remains one of my crowning achievements. Come back to me. The Internet misses you. 

But the man I really need to thank is OJ Simpson. Yes. "The Juice." It was the OJ Simpson trial that put me on the map. (The stealy one, not the stabby one.) My coverage of the memorabilia theft while I was working in Las Vegas is what landed me the network gig. I wouldn't know it was possible to hate Lindsay as much as I do without OJ's help. My mother once asked me for his contact info (in jail) so she could send him a hand written thank you note. You can imagine her disappointment now. But I do remind her that I didn't stab anyone to death (allegedly) but I did murder her hopes and dreams. So there's that. #sorrynotsorry.

Talking with Armstrong & Getty about my "Senior Will"...

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