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I am – There Are Too Many Brittanys of the Day

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About two months ago I discovered downing Vicodin with my coffee before work was a good plan.About two months ago Brittany Murphy decided marrying some swollen con-artist named Simon Monjack who wants a Visa and her “Clueless”/”Uptown Girls” cash was a good idea. I think I win on this one. Even his name sounds like some pyramid-scheme for a casino bordering a lovely abandoned reservoir presently storing overflow from the neighboring sewage treatment plant.

Anway this is Mrs. Monjack née Murphy exiting a hair salon in LA or whatever. I know a thing or two about hair salons, and the point is you are supposed to come out looking like a princess and not a barely-pubescent boy from New Jersey who is just getting his feet wet with the whole hipster phenomenon. Which also explains the damn Ramones shirt. I loved that shirt back in 2002 more than I loved my morning after pills. But it is tired, over-exposed, and was bludgeoned to death with a bar of soap in a sock behind a stall in the dank, indoor-outhouse bathroom of CBGBs. I saw two dudes with this on yesterday in the same 4 block radius and wanted to hurt them, and not in the ways Zeki enjoyed.

As for Brittany Murphy’s career, she was amazing in “the Dead Girl.” This is my serious face, now. Either that was some top-notch acting talent or she is just vaguely-prescient and her subconscious was training her to be a highway hooker, her subsconscious being aware of her impending ruin and all: the sunny spring day when Monjack splits for Cyprus with both her earnings and sexy Ramones shirt.

Obediently yours,

Sugar Nell


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