The Fug After Tomorrow

Dear Emmy Rossum,

Look at you! You are a very, very pretty girl, and you're very naturally slender, which makes you lucky. And you have great curl formation, which... suck on it, bitch, but first pass the product my way.

But that's neither here nor there. I have a more important question (aside from, "Um, are you at a Hollywood event, or are you a bridesmaid?). And that is: Are you eating?

Now, I get it -- weight fluctuates naturally; stress leads to weight loss; Jake Gyllenhaal wasn't good about feeding you rich soups while you were languishing in that library with him during The Day After Tomorrow... All these things make sense, i suppose.

But really, I just want to make sure you're not Mary-Kating yourself into oblivion, because that wasn't really good for anyone. I mean, all the fat twin wanted was to make some more caper movies, and now she's relegated to being The Sister Whose Name Hasn't Become A Verb -- in addition to being stuck in a career that will no doubt be confined to starring with MK in very special Lifetime Original Movies. Like Once Bitten, Twice High, about twins who get hooked on crack but are saved from their dealer (Kirk Cameron, as you've never seen him) by Bill Cosby, their gruff but lovable neighbor, and their kindly doctor Neil Patrick Harris, in a role you've seen him in before, but before all those other roles that were parts you'd never seen him in before.

Anyway... What was I saying? Oh, right: Just make sure that the next time the Phantom of the Opera kidnaps you and drags you into his dungeon, he offers you up some nice, butter-laden French cuisine and crusty bread while you're forced to watch him frantically and repeatedly, er, play his pipe organ.

Eat.

Cheers,
Heather