Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Honestly, Why Did I Even Make A Sex Tape With You?

Yes, I'll grant you, it was a some pretty good sex. You're ability to frame a shot during the piledriver is exceedingly impressive. You break the fourth wall and talk dirty to the camera only when it's appropriate and sexy, which is also admirable. But Jesus Molly, if that's how you sing, you'll never get the chance to be an also-ran, which begs the question: Why did I even make a sex tape with you?

Don't misunderstand me, your rendition of Gadjits's "Party Girl" was...interesting. I never quite appreciated the subleties of lyrics such as:

Hey boys look at my butt
no I'm not a slut but I'll fuck you in the bathroom
Just gratify my image

but I do now, and I thank you for that. I will say, however, that if that kind of singing, with the off-tempo call-backs and off-key choruses, is the best you got, then we've got problems.

Don't get me wrong, everybody likes a party girl, but I'm looking for something deeper, Molly. Something more meaningful. Call me old fashioned, but if I'm gonna make a sex tape with a lady, it better damn well reach the masses when said lady fails at reality tv.

Why don't you grab yourself some tea and take a seat, we need to hammer a few things out.

You're no one unless you're famous, Molly. Everybody knows that, everyone accepts it. Except you, apparently. If you think you can pull that karaoke shit with Randy and Paula, you're sorely mistaken. Granted, you kinda have to suck enough to be voted off, or whatever, but you at least have to make it past those episodes where they just show you the mental defects who think they can slide one past those crafty judges.

What I'm trying to say is that unless you hunker down and really put some effort into your singing, no one's gonna see how nasty you are in bed. It's science. The American public require a passing recognition with their amateur porn stars, and that's what reality tv is.

I'm sorry it's come to this, Molly, but until you get some vocal lessons or watch Glitter a few more times, I can't, in good conscience spadazzle you any more.