Dear Chelsea Handler:

This is my dog Franklin:

He’s adorable. He’s also a homophobe.

I had imagined that my adorable dog would help me meet adorable men (or adorable women — I live in Alaska now; I can’t be too choosy) because that’s what always happens on television and there is no truer representation of real life than television (except perhaps the Interwebs).  Franklin, however, seems to have other ideas.

You see, I think Franklin gets all of ideas about being gay from Pat Robertson because the only people Franklin ever helps me meet are prepubescent boys. 

I like kids — I hope to have children of my own someday — but I don’t like kids, if you catch my drift. And contrary to what most Republicans and Evangelical Christians might have you believe, gay men aren’t inherently pedophiles. In fact, most psychologists would agree that there is absolutely no link between pedophilia and homosexuality. So take that, Franklin!

Of course, I could just be reading into things. After all, can an animal whose greatest joy in life comes from sniffing butts and poo really be anti-gay?

Love,

Ronnie

A friend of mine recently came home to her apartment to find an unexpected and, as yet unexplained gift — a copy of “Sexy College Co-Eds” was left at her door.

Some might say that such a gift is inappropriate. I say that gifts of porn are always appropriate. Did a friend recently give birth? Get that child subscriptions to Playboy and Playgirl (plan ahead: the little one could turn out to be gay) — mommy and daddy (or mommy and mommy or daddy and daddy) — can enjoy the, um, articles until the little one turns 18. Did a couple you know recently get married? What better way to spice up the honeymoon than with some post-nuptial porn. Is a friend fretting over an upcoming birthday? Show them that turning another year older is nothing to worry about with some geriatric fetish porn. You see, from birthdays to funerals to holidays major and minor, there’s no better gift than pornography.

Now, my friend seems to be concerned that the porn was left anonymously. I say, don’t question the mysteries of the universe, accept them and be thankful! Take this as an opportunity to indulge — head down to CVS, get yourself a box of wine, a brand-new pack of D batteries and a scented candle, turn off your cell phone and spend an evening getting to know yourself. Opportunities like this don’t knock twice. Though, if they did, I might be wary of what’s on the other side of the door.

Love,

Ronnie

I was reminded tonight that it has now been over a year since I first wrote you…and you still haven’t responded. Bitch.

A lot has happened in the past year, but some things remain the same: you’re still a drunken slut from Jerseg with a sloppy coslopus and I am still a midwestern ‘mo with a hankerin’ for some Handler.

You’ve come a long way from the Garden State, Chels, but one thing’s holding you back from the A-list.. No, it’s not an Oscar (who the fuck is Melissa Leo?), it’s a stalker. And I still think I’m your man.

Listen Chels, you need me and I need you. I didn’t want to bring this up but…I am in serious talks with Bristol Palin’s people. Her star is on the rise and she understands that my talents could bring her to a whole new level. A stalker is just what she needs to go from teen mom to Hollywood phenom.

You don’t want to be outshone by a Palin, do you?

Love, Ronnie

There’s a problem affecting women worldwide that knows no boundaries. It afflicts women of every race and every class and I can’t sit by while the women I love fall victim to this insidious beast. The problem? Bad weaves.

To draw attention to this pandemic and to raise money for it’s eradication, I am creating the No Tracks Foundation, the first non-profit organization dedicated to freeing women suffering from bad weaves and hair extensions from the pain and humiliation of this monster.

Even our beloved Ms. Britney Jean Spears, multimillionaire, suffers from this awful condition, and has for years (see evidence below). The No Tracks Foundation is currently in talks with Ms. Spears’ management for her to become our national spokeswoman. Jennifer Hudson freed her inner skinny as a spokeswoman for Weight Watchers — similarly, we’ll give Britney the beautiful, lustrous, track-free hair she deserves.

Chelsea, as a national figure, could you please end the media’s silence on this threat to women everywhere by drawing attention to this affliction on your show? Together, we can make a difference.

Love,

Ronnie

Poor Britney…

Have you missed me? I am sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been sleeping with a rapper which is exhausting and doesn’t leave much time for writing. You know how it goes…

Love, Ronnie

Now that Chuy’s walked out, it seems that you are in need of an assistant. I’d gladly give up stalking you if you’d hire me. Here are a few reasons why I’d make a great assistant:

1.) Assistant starts with ass and I have a great one. Ask anyone.

2.) I have a great memory.

3.) I too love to wear vests and sweater vests.

4.) I don’t have a sex tape…but I could make one to boost ratings during sweeps.

5.) I wouldn’t sexually harass you. Wait, no. That’s not true. I’d probably stare at your fun bags. A lot.

6.) I love making fun of people and I am really good at it.

7.) What am I talking about? Oh, right. Assistant…

Also, please see my first post. I think many of the reasons that I would make a great stalker translate well to assisting.

Think about it. I’m jobless and could start tomorrow.

Love, Ronnie

While I was walking around Berkeley the other day, a homeless woman asked me if I could spare a million dollars.

I think she should consider setting her sights a little lower.

Love, Ronnie

I’ve moved to California—can you feel our closeness? Sure, I may be living in Berkeley right now, surrounded by pot smoking hippies and homeless old men jamming to Madonna on their battery-powered boomboxes, but I take comfort in that we at least live in the same state now.

Oh, and the Internets tell me that you have a new boyfriend. I’m glad your coslopus is getting some attention.

Love, Ronnie

On your show tonight, you mentioned something about doubling the height of the fence around your home…

Guess I’ll be signing up for climbing lessons.

Love,
Ronnie

What do you make of this whole people-changing-their-name-on-Facebook-to-conceal-their-actual-identity phenomenon?  I think it’s ridiculous.  One of my slutty drunk friends recently changed her name on Facebook to Princess Rose Shishkabibble.  

I think that’s also what she calls her vagina.

Love,

Ronnie