The life of Lindsay Lohan since 2010 has just been one long, disappointing follow-up segment at the end of Intervention, where you see her in treatment, and she’s all smiles and clear skin, saying how now she wants to live! and then the screen goes black, saying “two days later Lindsay checked herself out of treatment and relapsed. She has moved back in with her mother and says she’s been sober since —-.” And that “sober since” date is always, like, a month before you watched the episode so you just know it’s not true. (By the way, it took me an hour to write that paragraph because the second I wrote “follow up” and “Intervention” I said “heyyy, whatever happened to Sarah and Mikeal, the Romeo and Juliet heroin twins?” and then went on a Google bender).
My journey began with being in denial that Lindsay had a problem, to being sure that she could get better and make a comeback, to losing all hope, then gaining a little hope back when she went red again.
But yesterday she missed her call on set for The Canyons, a movie starring a porn actor named James Dean, who couldn’t think to name himself James PEAN because apparently I have to do all the work around here. No matter how much I want her to, she can’t be responsible enough to show up to her job on time or pick a movie that doesn’t involve a porn star or not do a Marilyn Monroe themed photo shoot. I have finally accepted that. And now I can embrace it.
She’s the little train wreck that could. She’s MY little train wreck. I can’t wait to usher in the holiday season with Liz and Dick November 25th.
I’m thinking viewing party and live-blogging. WHO. IS. IN???