|No, I'm not sucking on a lemon. Why do you ask?|
I'm sure you are a perfectly nice person who is perhaps a bit timid. Watching interviews with you is excruciating. I bet it's painful to be so socially awkward during this time when people want to snap photos of you and ask you questions on camera. So when I refer to you in this letter, I don't really mean you. I mean your public persona.
Are you ready?
I cannot stand you. I'm sick to death of your sour face and your black clothes. Here you are at The Golden Globes looking uncomfortable. Oh, look at your edgy, black dress.
Here you are at some other event. Wearing black. Again.
|I'm so serious, you guys.|
|Can you tell how deep I am?|
We get it. Your entire role this awards season is to play The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Who Goes to The Academy Awards. It's all about promoting a dark, miserable movie. "Hey, you guys, go see my movie. It's full of murder and anal rape. That's right. Anal. That's why I look like I have a stick up my ass."
Stop it already. I'm so sick of you.
Now here you are on the cover of Vanity Fair's Hollywood Issue (also known as the Lots of White Women on the Cover Issue).
Well, at least you're not wearing black. But there you are looking all serious and miserable, as usual.
Perhaps no one told you that you were only playing the part of a woman who had horrible things happen to her. You, in fact, did not have horrible things happen to you. You grew up in an extremely wealthy family and you have had a life full of opportunities and comforts.
Right now, you are having more wonderful things happen to you. You have starred in a critically-acclaimed film. You are being nominated for awards. People are recognizing your work and saying, "Hey, good job!" Most people never get rewarded for their work. They never get praised and celebrated.
So fucking smile!
If you hate being at awards shows this much, then don't freaking go to them, honey. Stay home. Allow Glenn Close or Salma Hayek or some other person whose boobs are about to fall out of her dress to accept on your behalf any awards you might win (I hope you don't win any). I'm quite certain the Academy will be happy to ship you your little statue.
Stay home and try to remember that you are not Lisbeth Salandar. You are an actress. You are making a lot of money to act like a miserable person in movies. When you're on the red carpet, it wouldn't kill you to smile. You do have teeth. I found this photo of you that proves it.
If you do decide to attend The Academy Awards, think about wearing a dress in a color other than black. Think about enjoying all the excitement and the fact that you get to be on the same red carpet with George Clooney, for God's sake!
If you can't do that, then stay home. Nobody wants to see Madame Buzzkillington on the red carpet.
The Girl with the Dolphin Tattoo