I can call you Leo, right?
First of all, I feel like I need to apologize.
After watching The Revenant, I realized the purpose for the man bun all those months. The disheveled, scruffy, Jack Nicholson look had me a little worried. I should have known it was for a movie role. I’m sorry I lost faith in you, briefly, but I now feel like I understand your supermodel obsession a little more.
I’m glad we’ve gotten past that.
The real reason for this letter isn’t actually to convince you to take me as your date to the Oscars. Well, okay, it is, but let’s be honest, we all know you’re planning to take Irmelin, or Mom, as you call her. Don’t get me wrong, she totally deserves to sit next to you. I mean, she did birth you. I’m just throwing it out there, that’s all.
Why would you take a crazy woman who’s blogging you an invitation, you ask? Well, first off, I’m not crazy. I’m actually graduating with my master’s degree in marriage and family therapy in May, and technically we aren’t allowed to be crazy.
So, I’m sane is what I’m saying.
No, I’m not a model, but I am blonde. I’m also not in my early 20s. I’m 33, but people tell me I look like I’m 18, so there’s that. It’s funny, as a teenager, I used to think you were way too old for me, but now it’s depressing to realize that I really only had about a four-year gap where I qualified to be one of your girlfriends.
But it’s OK, I’ve gotten over it, obviously.
Yes, I’m a fan. But not like a psycho stalker one. I’m too busy for that. I mean, technically I haven’t even seen every movie you’ve been in. I never finished Gangs of New York. I have this weird thing with Cameron Diaz. While I actually like her as a person, I can’t seem to take her seriously as an actress.
Sorry about that.
But I did watch Titanic 11 times in theaters—now that was a bit psycho, I admit. But I was 15 so that doesn’t really count. We’re all a little psycho at 15.
To prevent me from rambling even more, I’m going to list some reasons as to why you should take me to the Oscars with you.
We share a love of hip-hop. You can imagine my excitement when I heard Kanye West performed at your birthday party—a man after my own heart.
You love to dance. Well, from the video I caught of you at Coachella, you dance. I love to dance, and I figure I could teach you some moves at the Vanity Fair Oscar party.
My lucky number is 11. Your birthday is 11/11. Today is the 11th. Coincidence? I think not.
I live in the same city that your friend Jeremy Renner grew up in. Coincidence? Nope. You know where to find me.
I, myself, almost became a child actor. I was cast in a P.J. Sparkles commercial at the age of 8. It didn’t work out due to things on my end, but we could have had so much more in common if it did!
I totally missed my calling.
We are Detroit Lions fans in our house, although we were raised in and still live in California. I know you love the University of Michigan. Weird!
I’m left-handed. That means absolutely nothing except maybe you find that exotic and sexy. It definitely means I have a good personality and a great sense of humor.
I’m way more fun than the Jersey Shore cast. Yeah, I heard about you partying with them and inviting them all back to your house. Imagine my devastation when I found out Snooki got to party with you and I didn’t. Just promise me you’re never going to party with the Teen Mom cast. I don’t think I could handle it.
On a serious note, I realize this is a bit fan obsessive if you will, but I promise there’s one more amazing reason why you should take me to the Oscars.
It’s your time. The stars have aligned, and although the losses to your past fellow nominees might have stung, you now know that this role was the one you were meant to win the Oscar for. This role is the one you are most proud of. This role is the role that handed you life lessons and strength that you couldn’t have imagined you had. It changed you. And to wait for such an award now feels worth it.
And, I want to sit next to you and be the one who tells the music producer to shut the fuck up when they start drowning out your incredible speech.
To be perfectly honest, you don’t have to take me to the Oscars. You could take me down to the grocery store for all I care. After all, I’m really just a Cali girl, who’s a wife and mother of two boys. I’ve worked my ass off to get my education and elevate in society to the best of my ability. But that’s not what really matters in the big scheme of things. I’m a good person.
And all I can do is admire wholeheartedly how you strive to stay out of the limelight, and into matters that are important. You understand what’s happening to this world and what it’s coming to. You’ve stopped at nothing to assist in saving animals and our planet.
And for that, all I can do is support you and say, “Damn, he looks good doing it!”
And maybe go to the Oscars with you.