“Hola, lovers.

“Look at him. He doesn’t even know. Ay, well, he REALLY does not know that the light on his pantalones changed their color and makes it look like he borrowed his math teacher’s shins, but MOSTLY, he does not know that this Obama event we are at? It is my destiny, lovers. Can you imagine? La Lopez as your First Lady? Si, I know, he is married to the lady whose shoulders America loves, but: Did she ever have a show? Was she a judge on Michelle Idol? Did she wear catsuits made of glitter and air while singing about tongues and floors and things? No. And once el presidente sees me in this dress that is ripping off my body, he will say, ‘Ay, Jennifer, you are the dream that I woke up from last night and then cried a little because I thought your thigh could not be real,’ and I would say, ‘Oh, it is real, and by the way, I have a lifetime supply of free razors,’ and he will swoon. And lovers, psst, but I could arm-wrestle his esposa under a table. And once she was under that table I would handcuff her to it and then forge her signature on some divorce papers and then become First Lady and then BOOM I run for president. And then I hire my old Marc as my Secretary of State and Defense Things because you know who terrorists do not want to cross? Vampires. And then just to make sure he knows I am LA PRESIDENTE of his UNIVERSE I will send him a copy of Secretary, which is the one where Maggie Thingenhaal gets hired by a very bossy racehorse. Anyway, lovers, wish me luck! If it does not work, at least I won’t have to move to a house that is teeny tiny compared to my mansion, so do not cry. Well, not for ME. Cry for HIM. He will be sad not to know first-hand how I can rock a floor. Besos!”

[Photo: Fame/Flynet]