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Dear Paul Giamatti

I'm talking to you, jerk face.

(For anyone who is new to my blogs, Paul Giamatti is my version of 'The Universe'. Or, God. Kind of like a, "Are you there Paul? it's me, Mari. You were right, tequila is not my friend. My bad." I'm not sure why Paul Giamatti is the man I think of when people say God. For a while, it was Jeff Bridges. Then it was Idris Alba for a little bit... But I'm way too attracted to Idris. It turned into Paul after I saw him play God on Inside Amy Schumer, and it's sticking, so I'm thinking Paul and I are going to be best friends.

Any way.

Dear Paul Giamatti,

You are a jerk face. I need you to send a clearer sign about what I am supposed to do with my life. It needs to be a big neon sign. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING, PAUL. I really thought Ashton Kutcher was going to come out at the Inauguration. And I really thought Rogue One was going to be a good movie. And I really, really thought I was not going to get a stomach ache after eating all that Chicken Alfredo. APPARENTLY NOT. If you wanted me to stop eating, YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING. Step it up, Paul, you're getting lazy. Also, I saw Billions... meh. I'm not that impressed. Not that you're bad, it's just... over all... meh. You know? I understand that this is a weird check in, but, I wanted you to know that even though things are awkward, and I still think you are a good actor, I do think you're kewl (and you know it's real, cause I spelled it wrong).

Side note, please help me to meet Amy Schumer. I hear you guys are tight. That would be nice.

Help me make money,

Mari

P.S. The cookies in the picture are for you. Only a few. I want one.

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