What’s on my mind? Hollywood has some splainin’ to do.
Why is it when an actress changes her hairstyle using garden clippers and a home dye job, the result is always terrific? You and I trim one hair with barbers’ scissors, and face a major disaster.
Why is it that whether an actress is the chaser or the chase-e-e, she always wears a skirt and high heels? You and I schlep around in sneakers and shorts (“What are those warts on your knees?” “Those aren’t warts; they’re my boobs”), and have never been the chased or chase-e-e.
Why is it that an actress on the lam never carries a wallet but always has several changes of outfits? You and I carry a wallet, but have no new clothes because we waste our money on movies.
Why is it when an actress hero hot-wires a car, it starts right away? You and I hot-wire a car and nothing happens except that our hair gets frizzy.
Why is it when an actress tries to break into a password-protected computer, s/he always says: “I’m in!” after the third attempt? You and I forget our mothers’ maiden names and the bank lock us out and throws away the key.
Why is it when an actress dismantles a ticking time bomb, she always succeeds with one or two seconds to go? You and I dismantle a ticking time bomb and have to apologize for being stupid and provoking an argument.
Why is it that an actress never needs a bathroom break? You and I skip a bathroom break and see above re: Ticking Time Bombs.
Why is it when an actress always puts on her pierced earring in seconds? You and I take forever to get the post through the piercing.
Why is it that an actress always find a handy bobby pin to pick a lock? I can’t get into my own house, and have to pay some dough-head $126 to slip a bump key into the latch.
Why is it that an actress always find a handy bobby pin to pick a lock? I can’t get into my own house, and have to pay some dough-head $126 to slip a bump key into the latch.
Why is it when an actress is tied to a chair or to the railroad tracks, her nail file busts her loose? You and I get trapped in a supermarket lineup and our lettuce is limp by the time we reach the cashier.
© Nicole Parton, 2019
