Buffalos, However, Do Have Diginity

Sigh.

Alright Simpson. Its me and you. Time for a chat.

I realize that my brief summation of your career, and essentially you as a person, is mildly innocuous at this juncture. I mean really, 2003 thought about calling and asking for its barely watchable, B-List celebrity marriage back, and even it was too bored and uninterested to lift the receiver. (Because 2003 has a land line....Is this thing on? Tip your waitress)

Regardless, this little intervention into what I refer to as your "My divorce gave me wrinkles - slash - Please someone love me" shame spiral, is not meant to assume that you are at all relevant to pop culture anymore. Truth be told, I believe the fact that - quite frankly - the shine is off your apple, both literally and figuratively, may be exactly the thing you should use to pull yourself up by the inappropriately high-waisted pants and take a long hard look in the mirror...at those eyebrows initially. Seriously girl, "Surprise Eyes" is not a beauty trend. See Above.

Lets review what we already know:


1) Grew up in Nowhere,Texas as the pastors daughter with the big rack who would serenade the congregation with presumably Amy Grant tunes, and drive all the boys crazy with the "Im just an innocent christian girl who didnt know that sitting on your lap at lunch would cause you to stumble in your walk with the Lord" charade. (Please honey - I went to private school too. You are fooling no one)
2) Fell in love with a former boy bander (which, lets be honest, 98 Degrees was one step up from O-Town!) and banged us all over head with the fact that he was the only boy to respect your boundaries, and kiss you up against your red Mercedes in the rain while listening to "Take My Breath Away". Yawn.

3) Allowed MTV to video tape your consequent marriage, and broadcast your bumbling, faux-interesting ass into our living rooms every week, where I personally was embarrassed by your amazing sense of entitlement. I mean C'mon, your Svengali of a father/manager forced you to sing the national anthem at just about every Grand Opening short of an Arby's. Im surprised you could muster up enough pride each morning to be such a whiny, spoiled nag. The Horsey Sauce is good though.

And Finally:

4) Convinced of your own baseless hype (Do you even have a hit song? Name one. Just one! You cant can you...) you spent the summer in Louisiana, away from your husband, finding out that the word "boundaries" actually means "Thats not how Nick does it." And Im willing to bet that you had reached such a pinnacle in your perky career, that you somehow believed you were untouchable. That the love affair America had begun with you would survive your roll in the hay with a certifiable jackass. Or one of his friends. Allegedly.

Im here to tell you - it did not. I have seen the face of guilt and regret. The face of staying up too late to drown your sorrows and loneliness in a bottle of schnapps (You look like a schnapps girl). The face of poor botox choices, and worse false lash applications. That face is this:



Listen, Im not here to judge. Nor am I sure exactly what is happening to Righty up there. We have all made some questionable choices - although Im proud to say mine do not involve letting Bam Margera, and his insufferable goatee/dirty fingerless gloves, inspect my lady parts. Im just saying.
Its time to stop moping over the correlation of your decayed marriage to that of your similarly decaying career, to stop dying your hair brown, smoking weed (yes, its obvious), dating John "I write horrible effeminate songs about daughters - and am actually a pompous ass" Mayer, and going out of the house looking like this:



I know its tough to come to grips with the fact that Nick won the PR war of words, and probably even harder to be bombarded with pics of your de-flowerer and his new love, naked in cabo, having what appears to be sex of the forbidden.
I get it. Times are tough. So here is my semi-professional advice:
Like we learned in Sunday School, you reap what you sow. And you my dear, are officially ah-reaping. You have been humbled, cut off at the Knee-high boots, as it were. Everybody assumes that youbasically got a little too over-impressed with your own self, and chest, and are just a selfish brat who has never once, to my knowledge, even accepted any blame for your own demise. Thats where it all went wrong for you.
Its time to fess up to the indiscretions, get back into vocal training, and possibly consider doing another reality show of your own entitled:
Jessica Simpson: I Effed up my life and now you can watch me eat my feelings and pine for Nick on my couch.
Ratings Gold!

Also, if the current rumors are true (Read: Abortion / feud with Ashlee) then things are spiraling faster for you than I thought. A real glimpse into how far you have fallen, and your admittance that you have no one to blame but yourself, might be your only redemption at this point - both personally and professionally. And really, have you seen your sister lately? She has become the greasy troll under Pete Wentz's bridge. You two need to make up pronto before she cleans this city out of hats Joe McIntyre wore during the Step by Step tour of 1989.


Like now.



Kisses,

Ashlee - not Simpson