A Letter to Lindsey Lohan, from Her Loofah

Dear Lindsey,

Hey, there, what’s happening? Yeah, I just thought I’d drop you a little line to see how you’re doing these days. Seems like you’re doing pretty well, back on the ole party circuit again. I know how important that is to you, so I won’t take up too much of your time with this letter.

So, since you’re doing so fine nowadays, I thought I’d let you in on a couple of concerns of my own. I’m not feeling so hot right now, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t really know what the problem is, and there shouldn’t really be a problem- I’m a loofah, for God’s sake! Bath accessories aren’t supposed to have bad days!

I have to say, that one is way off.

Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, Linds. Imagine spending your time scrubbing layers of semen, coke residue, and three-day-old lube off of some malnourished skank’s body. Can you imagine? Really? Okay, picture that, but instead of using your hands to scrub, you have to use your face! And the rest of your body! Can you even begin to imagine what that’s like?

There’s another issue, too. The fact that I’m used to clean things doesn’t necessarily mean I stay clean all of the time. That’s right- you have to rinse me out every so often. At least do something other than leave me floating in a tub full of tepid skank stew for days at a time.

One last thing, and then I’m done. I am a loofah, proud to be of service, and though I clean “those” parts, I am not intended for “that”. If you thought the scrubbing part was bad, imagine your very face being smashed vigorously into a spoiled pork roast for hours at a time. That’s what it’s like for me, Linds- like being smothered with rotten meat. I imagine that’s what it’s like for pretty much everyone who’s ever seen you naked, too.

Anyway, that’s about it for me. I guess I’ll see you around. You know where to find me- I’ll be the spongy thing covered in three different kinds of pubes crying himself to sleep next to your tube of Valtrex.

Sincerely,

Your Loofah