PAUL RUDD RANT

I was reading through old journals and came across a particularly bitter entry. Its entitled, " I Fucking Hate Paul Rudd" . I wrote it frantically on the long subway ride back to my shitty Bronx apartment after seeing a Broadway play called Three Days of Rain. The play also starred Julia Roberts who got not-so-good reviews but I couldn't care less because I'm a celebrity whore. I saw the second to last performance before it closed and I found Julia to be engaging, honest, charismatic, and very natural. Paul Rudd, however, seemed to be doing the community theatre version. The worst kind of jealousy unsued. Ugly, bitter jealousy. How embarrassing for me. Here goes:

6/17/06

I fucking hate Paul Rudd and his squinty eyes set on a canvas of pig pink skin. I hate him because he is an over-actor and I am so much better (how embarrassing). I hate him because somehow he got into over-acting school, was praised for his unnatural, show-offy work, and all the way down the line has convinced Broadway producers, Amy Heckerling, and even the people from Friends that HE posesses TALENT!!! Most of all I hate him because in the play, as I sat in the third row, I had to stare at his feet...his perfect, white, uncalloused Jesus feet. The callous on my big toe alone is so rough and thick that I'm convinced I could stick a needle in and hit bone and not feel a thing. His big toe is white-pink and plump. I HATE feet and even I would suck his toe. HIS heel doesn't have that yellowed horseshoe look that mine does where the roundness from the heel ends in a hard flat surface at the bottom of my foot. Paul Rudd's heel is plump and juicy even, like hot steaming chicken in commercials. Fuck you Paul Rudd and your perfect Jesus feet...ten years ago while you were lucky enough to be sitting on the steps of a Beverly Hills mansion making eyes at Alicia Silverstone, I was stocking cherry flavored warming lube on shelves at Spencer Gifts...On MY FEET...and I haven't been off em since. Enjoy your feet and good fortune Paul, because mine are hard and ache, but at least I'm EFFORTLESSLY funny (could it get any more embarrassing). I'm sure you'd be envious if you ever got to know me (...and, yes it can). Oh, Devil, where are you? I have my pen in hand. Let's make a deal.



There it is folks. Alex the embarrassing fool, stripped naked in harsh lighting before you. The funny thing is that a year later I saw him in Knocked Up and thought HE was effortlessly funny and natural.



Mr. Rudd, if you ever read this I hope you choose to see my envy as a compliment. I've since purchased a pumice stone and have become a bigger person, full of love and light.



Mr. Devil, if YOU read this, I'm still looking for representation.