Showing posts with label Personalities: Hollywood Has Some Splainin’ to Do. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personalities: Hollywood Has Some Splainin’ to Do. Show all posts

May 17, 2019

Hollywood Has Some Splainin’ to Do

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 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