An Open Letter To George Clooney

Heya, Georgie, we hear congrats is in order—you’re shacking up with your newest girlfriend! Dude, you’re living the dream, you so are. Actually, hold up. Is she a cocktail waitress? And is this the waitress that you met in Vegas? Or the one that you met in South Beach? You certainly have a type, we’ll give you that. Those red-headed, Barbie-measurement, Ph.D-types out there don’t stand a chance. But really, was that you I saw rocking the slurred facial expressions after another night out? And was that you, surrounded by chicks less than half your age? Yeah, thought so. OK, so here it is, I’m going to give it to you straight: We ain’t hearing good things when it comes to your reputation. And by not good things, I mean the cocktail waitress collection of girlfriends (and exes), the old-man-about-town-sleaziness and all those boozebag nights out. You are really doing some big time damage to that salt-and-pepper haired Danny Ocean image we so happily swooned over for 7940382931 sequels. And in a time not too far from right this second, no amount of Dr. Doug Ross ah-inducing grins will make you “The Man” again. O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Someones got to teach you how to preserve your sexy, and fast. We also have to introduce you to a woman—we’re talking a real-deal WO-man, not some fame-hungry type just looking for her face on the next US Weekly cover getting off your motorcycle. Next up, eat something—dial up the take-out sushi, place a call to Dominos—anything to put a few more lbs. on your frame. We think a lipid heavy diet (along with a weekend of good sleep) will also help decrease all those wrinkles that have just seemed to appear on your face. Get your friend Renee Zellweger to introduce you around, or hell, date Renee again—at least she’s over the age of 19. Oh and try out that whole movie on the couch thing a few Friday and Saturday nights out of the month—it’ll cut down on the embarrassing drunko photos and make you seem a tiny bit more elusive. And elusive, unlike sake bombs at Nobu, is a very, very good thing. Salt-and-pepper good, even.

Bear hugs and sloppy kisses,
The Frisky