An Open Letter to Reese Witherspoon

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Dear Reese,

Hopefully you’re not reading this from the confines of a jail cell, because I hear that’s your thing these days. I’d imagine you’re probably tucked away in some corner of your cute, little mansion, cuddling with your stupidly named baby, Tennessee, looking in the mirror, realizing that even though it’s for a movie role, brown is NOT a good color on you. Hopefully you’re ready for what I’m about to say to you, because it’s going to come as a bit of a shock.

Everyone’s been giving you a ton of shit for getting arrested this past week. True, it was a total bitch move of you to pull the “DO YOU KNOW MY NAME” card (it never works, trust me), but I actually think this arrest is a great thing for you. That’s right. I think the best career choice you’ve made since Walk The Line is getting arrested. Reese, I’m not sure what the hell is going on with your hair, or what kind of delusion you were having when you named your child after a state. I understand you have some redneck heritage, but you also got rich and famous, which should make any connections to a trailer park null and void. You had a promising career, at one point. I mean, you were married to Ryan Phillippe, who is now fucking 20-something blondes at Hollywood parties, and you were making movies such as Legally Blonde. Things were good. Let’s examine what you’ve done in recent years:

1) You’ve re-married some unclear manager character who apparently likes to tie a few on before getting behind the wheel of a Ford Fusion. No.
2) You had a baby and named it Tennessee. Also, no.
3) You made the epic box office failure This Means War. You also made some movie called Mud with Matthew McConaughey.
4) You got arrested.

Literally, none of those things were adding value to your career/life until your recent arrest. You’ve always had this annoying, “I’m a good, Southern girl, wife and mother,” image going for you. Some people admired it, but I found it insufferable. In times of major PR crisis, you can do two things: apologize profusely and hope the public accepts your regretful statement where you cite “having one too many” as the reason you completely blew up on the police officer, or you can say “fuck it” and turn your life into a total disaster.

I think the time has come for you to shed this ‘good girl’ image and actually be fun. Fuck it, YOLO, right, Reesey Cup? You’re edging on 40 (sick), and I think now is as good a time as ever for you to have some wild days. Nobody gives a shit about Lindsay Lohan getting arrested anymore, but EVERYONE cared that you were in the big house. Now is your time to head into a downward spiral. Here’s what you need to do:

1. Get arrested again, and this time get caught with some illegal substance. See if Paris has any blow to share. Also, picking up a penchant for nose candy might not be in your worst interest. Could be a great way to lose the baby weight.
2. Ignore the public pleas from friends and family to “calm down” and “seek help” because all those people are trying to do is ruin your fun.
3. Start hanging out with Amanda Bynes. This could be a great relationship for the two of you; I feel like Amanda is in need of some type of mother figure, and I feel as if you need someone to get fucked up and kicked out of Soul Cycle classes with. You both win. You could be the new Dinah and Lindsay.
4. Get arrested again, and have it be ABSOLUTELY FUCKING TRAGIC. Your most recent mug shot was a fucking joke, Reese. Looking down? Looking embarrassed? FUCK THAT. I need a full quality mug shot next time. Extra credit if your mascara is running, a fake eyelash is half—off, and for some reason, your newly acquired hair extensions are ripped out.
5. Become the cause for a MASSIVE Hollywood intervention. You’ve been in the business long enough. Maybe George Clooney could even host your intervention at his house in Italy? It’s chic as fuck, trust me, and with all the blow you’ll be doing, you’ll be skinnier than whoever he’s dating anyway.
6. Go to rehab, and use that time to collect yourself and concept a new role.
7. By the time you’re done with this, your daughter Ava will be fucked up enough to want to dip her toe into the acting pool. With the amount of parental issues you’ve helped give her, she’ll be a great candidate for any number of roles. You’re a good mother.
8. Plan your “comeback.” This should consist of a ton of interviews, and possibly the release of a tell-all book. With all the money you’ll make off of your comeback tour, you’ll probably be able to put all three of your kids through their first stint in rehab. You might even be able to buy your husband a nicer car than a Ford Fusion.
9. Actually pick a good role to star in, and get your acting career back on track, which will undoubtedly make you an Oscar candidate again. Nobody loves a comeback story more than the Academy.

Reese, this isn’t rocket science. You won multiple awards for Walk the Line. You should know how rock bottom looks, and you should be able to execute your downward spiral perfectly. Who knows, you might even become fun in the process? Either way, I think you’re taking the easy way out by deciding to “apologize” and try to act embarrassed by your bad behavior. You had such a clean record before your arrest you were insufferable; you were what I imagine Taylor Swift would aspire to grow up to be if she had any talent, or date-able qualities, and didn’t have a rat face. Boring.

You need to act quickly. Run, don’t walk, run, to the closest bar and slam a few vodka sodas before you get your shit together. If you need any Xanax to throw in your drink, there will be a man named “Johnnny” waiting for you in the bathroom. Tell him I sent you.

Godspeed,
Pearls xo

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