Dear Mom and Dad,
I hate you. Like, so much. You have got to be the worst parents in the whole universe. I think you are the meanest most disgusting grown-ups there is.
I wish there was an earthquake and your bedroom floor split open and you both slipped away to the core of the earth. I wish the moon came real close to the ground and the gravity was so strong it sucked just you two away into space — forever. I wish you went swing dancing on your anniversary and fell and cracked your ankles like they were celery and you never walked home.
I was going to text my friend Suzy or call the police or my agent to let them know what you’ve done, but you took away my cellphone.
I am the youngest girl ever nominated in the lead actress category in the Academy Awards! And I have got to be the first lead actress nominee to be sitting at home during the after-party. WHY ME?
Here I am, high up in my hotel suite while Adele and Anne Hathaway are out on the town. Am I thinking about how much fun I could be having at a party, eating all that fancy food, dancing all those twirly dances, spinning in my Red Carpet dress, smiling and hanging off of Hugh Jackman’s arm in the club right now? No way.
Oh, don’t you worry — I’m having a great time right here in my hotel suite, all by myself. It’s so fun to listen to the air conditioning. I’m having a party, just me and my Red Carpet dress and my king-sized bed and this big fat marker scribbling on this piece of paper. And my many, many tears. Oh, you could fill a fish tank if you held it beneath my eyes. I can’t wait to slip this sad, sad note beneath the door and make you so depressed, forever.
Are you having fun making sure I don’t sneak out, keeping me in this prison? I know you’re right there on the other side of the door, in the family room suite — I can hear you!
You invited Joaquin Phoenix over? Why couldn’t he just go out and party too? If I were him, I would. Mom and Dad, I hope you’re enjoying that cushy couch out there, and the 3-D TV, and the surround sound — I paid for it! And I hope you’re enjoying having chitty-chat with an Academy Award-nominated actor, too.
I’m starting to think the real reason I’m not allowed out tonight is because Mom’s upset I chose you instead of her to take me to the Dolby Theatre, Dad. I know how bad she wanted to see George Clooney in real life. It’s nothing personal. Why don’t we be grown-ups and put this behind us?
And stop worrying about me getting a good night’s sleep, Dad. I’ll wear my PJs to the after-party. I’ll behave myself in the limousines. Promise. I won’t get a sugar high. I won’t drink apple juice, orange juice, soda — nothing. Pinkie swear. I’ll come home like a good girl and brush my hair and scrub my teeth and go right to bed. You won’t even have to worry about picking me up. I’m sure Leo can give me a ride if it’s too late. He’s a real good guy. He wants to save the planet and make it green. Hey, there’s something. I’ll ask him if he has any ideas for my science fair project!