Monday, January 7, 2008
Dear Amy Winehouse,
You scare me. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot.
There's Fun Crazy and then there is Scary, Crazy crazy and you are definitely option B.
I am all for the rock and roll lifestyle. Sex, drugs and rock and roll...hell yeah! HOWEVER, at some point you have to go to sleep. Eat a sandwich. Wash your old eye make up off. Drag a comb through that snarled rat's nest you call hair.
It will be okay. Night will fall again. There will be more parties. Until then, lay in bed, smoke a joint, eat some macaroni and cheese, watch some reruns. Lather, rinse, repeat. Take a little break from the hard stuff and you'll catch a better buzz next time.
At least try to tone it down to a Lindsay Lohan-like level. You know, pretend to go to rehab and still drink too much and snort a little coke socially.
At the very, very least...keep it indoors. No more photos of you crawling around your yard at 5am. You're becoming the female version of Pete Doherty. It's not cool. What's he even famous for other than being Kate Moss' druggie boyfriend? No one even remembers.
You also need a front tooth. I don't care what kind of trashy, rockabilly look you are going for. Toothless is simply unacceptable. Period. Furthermore, that husband of yours....LO-SER. Man oh man. He's just yucky.
Anyhoo, just some advice from Ashley. Take it or leave it. I'm just trying to help.