Lindsay: Fully Loaded

Ever since The Parent Trap, I have wanted to sleep with Lindsay Lohan. Maybe it was the red hair or the freckles or the fact that she was 11. I like to think it was because she was young, ready for stardom and also there were two of her. My editor’s telling me that underage sex jokes aren’t funny, and I agree. The previous statement is actually a serious point from my application for associate director of Duke’s Center for Health Policy. Some guy named Frank beat me out for the job.

Lindsay has certainly blossomed since then, starring in such cinema classics as Herbie: Fully Loaded and I Know Who Killed Me. These films were so popular that rumor has it Lohan signed with Vivid Video to make Lindsay: Fully Loaded and I Know Who Drilled Me. But whether or not her drug and penis addictions have ruined her career and forced her into porn has no bearing on my unrelenting love.

Sure, she had a rough patch in there. She got really into drugs and scissoring, especially when she was dating the very ambiguous Sam Ronson. But how could you not fall for Sam’s music? Wait, Sam is just a DJ. She doesn’t make any music, she just plays it. What’s the point of paying a DJ when you have an iPod?

With Bobby, I got to live through RFK, which works out well seeing  as Lohan is a regular Marilyn Monroe—except not a sexual icon, not tattooed on Megan Fox’s arm and not banging Mr. President. I’ve always thought of myself as a Kennedy, minus the money, dead sons and alcohol-induced car accidents/murders. When all else fails, throw the body in the river.

And now, information has surfaced supporting the idea that Lohan was dating Heath Ledger when he died, which not only makes me jealous of both of them—it’s not gay if you’re wearing clown make-up—it also scares her mother. “Because when she’s drunk or takes an Adderall with it, she will do something like Heath Ledger did in a second without thinking.” Wait, Adderall? Is this an eighth-grade bar mitzvah? Her mother is upset because she drinks and occasionally takes Adderall? I’ve had a prescription since second grade! When I started getting—how did my father put it?—“f—ing annoying,” he would ring a bell and go, “Medication Time.” Thanks, Nurse Ratched. Prolonged usage of amphetamines hasn’t been linked to any health problems, right? Ozzy Osbourne seems fine. So does Billie Mays. Oh wait.

Most recently, it has been reported that my unicorn Lindsay has been cutting herself. That sounds like a deal breaker, unless of course you take into account my vampire fetish. Then it sounds like a match made in heaven—or I guess in this case, eternal damnation.

Speaking of eternal, let’s talk about Lindsay’s beauty. This knock-out has been aging like a fine rose, getting more beautiful by the cigarette, and the competition for her hand in marriage has started to pile up. And by “competition for her hand,” I mean “court-ordered appearances.” Lindsay, why do you have to be so perfect? Smart, talented, not to mention pasty-skinned and freckled—God, that really tugs me the right way.

Also, I have this friend who was wondering if you happen to have a sister. You do? Is she jaded, from a broken home and headed down a path of self-destruction? She is? I think I smell a double date coming on.