The exsistance of Lindsey Lohan

Twisted Panty would like to introduce its newest staff writer... "He-who-wears-Hotpants". Or at least that is what I am calling him until he comes up with a better name. The following is his letter to above mentioned skank of the moment, Lindsey Lohan. Enjoy.

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

Let me start by saying I would not call myself a "fan" of your movies, although I did enjoy 'Mean Girls'. But that was just thanks to good writing. I don't really think you're all that great of an actress. You're not terrible, I suppose. It's just there are several million other people who could act better given the chances you've had.

I am not here to rag on you for your personal life either. I am not alarmed that I for see you dying in the next year of some sort of chemical overdose. Frankly I don't really care. If you're stupid enough to do those things then it's just nature's way of thinning out the herd.

Who am I to argue?

The reason I AM writing to you is because I feel you owe me 1 hour and 40 minutes of your life to make up for the time I lost sitting through the piece of corned up shit released as "I Know Who Killed Me." The name alone sounds like the 'working title' of a movie, and after seeing it, I'm sure they just left it as that because they knew nobody would see it anyway. I wish I had been so lucky. I should deduct the whole hour and 42 minutes, but I enjoyed the two minute scene of you getting tortured, so I am crediting you for that time.

To begin with, I am not a fan of extremely freckled bodies, in fact, I think I have a phobia of them. Seeing your pale, freckled skin trying to be sexy while acting as an exotic dancer was less enjoyable than fucking a cheese grater. The close-up shot of your freckled back nearly made me vomit in disgust. Kudos to you for getting those big boobs, I'm sure some men will overlook the disgusting gingerness of your skin just for a chance to touch them. Thankfully, I am gay and immune to their powers.

How could you possibly agree to make this movie? It made no sense. I understand that maybe you needed a paycheck (perhaps you've literally 'blown' through all the money you already made), but maybe you should have taken up real exotic dancing to make a few bucks. Seriously, anything would have been better than this piece of crap.

I think the scene that irritated the most was when Dakota got onto Aubrey's computer and immediately found the obscure web site devoted to non-religious twin stigmata. Yeah, that totally made sense. Working in a library, I can guarantee you that if a patron came to the reference desk saying that parts of their body were falling off and it was related to their unknown twin getting butchered... well, it would take that person with a masters degree in library science a hell of a lot longer than 8 seconds to stumble on that key piece of information. And yet, your character, the exotic dancing child of a deceased crack mother, found it immediately. Bravo.

I don't think I can manage to continue pointing out the flaws that made this movie so horrid. Please just see that you either 1) have a witch doctor suck out 1 hour and 40 minutes of your life and transfer it to me or 2) send a check in the amount of $1,400 payable to He-who-wears-Hotpants. If you need my address please let me know.

Warmest regards for a decent career revival,

He-who-wears-Hotpants