My sister’s name is Whitney, so, understandably, Whitney Houston’s death has been hard for her—because that was her celebrity name twin, and everyone needs a celebrity name twin. Parents who don’t think about this when naming their children are just irresponsible, really. I’d certainly be sad if Kirsten Dunst died prematurely, despite her inability to spell her name correctly. (And why does she spell it wrong, especially since with great power comes great responsibility?)
What makes it worse is that Whitney Houston’s death was so preventable. If only she hadn’t met that awful Bobby Brown. He sucked her in during a moment of vulnerability when all she wanted to do was feel the heat with somebody, with somebody who loved her. What is my sister supposed to do now? She’ll have to fall back on Eli Whitney, inventor of the cotton gin. And who cares about him now? He certainly couldn’t have been as profound as the person who taught us that learning to love ourselves is the greatest love of all. I actually don’t mean to make light of Whitney Houston’s death—or Eli Whitney’s, however he might have died (which does prove my point, though—who even knows how he died? Sorry Eli.)
Some people don’t have a celebrity name twin (because their parents are ridiculously unhip), but they do look like a celebrity. I met a woman a few weeks ago that looked just like Meg Ryan. I was nervous to bring up the comparison because I knew everyone probably tells her that, and when I mentioned it, she laughed and said three minutes ago someone had said the same thing to her. I asked her if it bothered her when Meg Ryan abandoned her good girl image to run lustfully after Russell Crowe, but she said she was fine with it. And I guess most women who saw Russell Crowe running around in that short skirt in Gladiator understood.
A handful of people have told me I look like Hilary Swank. I don’t see the resemblance, but I’ve heard it enough times that I’ve thought about it. This is going to sound awful, but pretty much all celebrities are absolutely gorgeous, so if someone says you look like one, it’s exciting. Wow! I’m gorgeous. But Hilary Swank—she’s just okay. I mean, she’s pretty enough, but she’s just not celebrity gorgeous. I have a friend who calls her the BART lady because he says she just looks like any lady you’d see on BART. And this is vain, but if I’m going to be told I look like a celebrity—even if it’s one I don’t particularly look like—I want it to be one of the gorgeous ones, not the BART lady.
Plus, after her Academy Award for Million Dollar Baby, what has she really done? It’s been years since she’s been in a big movie, so what’s the point of a celebrity twin if she’s out of the spotlight for years? It’s a little inconsiderate of her—unless it’s not her fault. Maybe she hasn’t been in a blockbuster lately because it’s hard for women to make it in Hollywood unless they’re stunning. So that just proves that even if an actress is talented enough to win Academy Awards, she still can’t land movie roles if she’s the BART lady. All Swank’s really done for me is show me that I’d fail at my hypothetical movie career. I mean thanks a lot, Hilary.
I forgive Hilary, though, because I still have Kirsten Dunst as my celebrity name twin. She’s made me proud with Bring It On, which has spawned four sequels about the racial trials faced by white, blond cheerleaders today. It’s an important issue that was begging for media attention, but Kirsten’s really brought it the coverage it’s needed—which just goes to show that with great power comes great responsibility.
What makes it worse is that Whitney Houston’s death was so preventable. If only she hadn’t met that awful Bobby Brown. He sucked her in during a moment of vulnerability when all she wanted to do was feel the heat with somebody, with somebody who loved her. What is my sister supposed to do now? She’ll have to fall back on Eli Whitney, inventor of the cotton gin. And who cares about him now? He certainly couldn’t have been as profound as the person who taught us that learning to love ourselves is the greatest love of all. I actually don’t mean to make light of Whitney Houston’s death—or Eli Whitney’s, however he might have died (which does prove my point, though—who even knows how he died? Sorry Eli.)
Some people don’t have a celebrity name twin (because their parents are ridiculously unhip), but they do look like a celebrity. I met a woman a few weeks ago that looked just like Meg Ryan. I was nervous to bring up the comparison because I knew everyone probably tells her that, and when I mentioned it, she laughed and said three minutes ago someone had said the same thing to her. I asked her if it bothered her when Meg Ryan abandoned her good girl image to run lustfully after Russell Crowe, but she said she was fine with it. And I guess most women who saw Russell Crowe running around in that short skirt in Gladiator understood.
A handful of people have told me I look like Hilary Swank. I don’t see the resemblance, but I’ve heard it enough times that I’ve thought about it. This is going to sound awful, but pretty much all celebrities are absolutely gorgeous, so if someone says you look like one, it’s exciting. Wow! I’m gorgeous. But Hilary Swank—she’s just okay. I mean, she’s pretty enough, but she’s just not celebrity gorgeous. I have a friend who calls her the BART lady because he says she just looks like any lady you’d see on BART. And this is vain, but if I’m going to be told I look like a celebrity—even if it’s one I don’t particularly look like—I want it to be one of the gorgeous ones, not the BART lady.
Plus, after her Academy Award for Million Dollar Baby, what has she really done? It’s been years since she’s been in a big movie, so what’s the point of a celebrity twin if she’s out of the spotlight for years? It’s a little inconsiderate of her—unless it’s not her fault. Maybe she hasn’t been in a blockbuster lately because it’s hard for women to make it in Hollywood unless they’re stunning. So that just proves that even if an actress is talented enough to win Academy Awards, she still can’t land movie roles if she’s the BART lady. All Swank’s really done for me is show me that I’d fail at my hypothetical movie career. I mean thanks a lot, Hilary.
I forgive Hilary, though, because I still have Kirsten Dunst as my celebrity name twin. She’s made me proud with Bring It On, which has spawned four sequels about the racial trials faced by white, blond cheerleaders today. It’s an important issue that was begging for media attention, but Kirsten’s really brought it the coverage it’s needed—which just goes to show that with great power comes great responsibility.
