So here's the thing: Lindsay Lohan is crazy. Batshit crazy. You know how I know this? Because we all know a crazy girl. Maybe you've dated one (it's been years, but oh the memories), maybe she's your sister, maybe you ARE the crazy girl and you kiiiinda know it but don't like to admit it but your friends say this about you. Bottom line: everyone knows that girl, and Lindsay is certainly it right now (like how I called her Lindsay like we're besties? I do). I also kind of find this to be unfair and feel bad (if that's possible) for her. It's like telling a fat kid to eat a cupcake and then saying, "Hey, stop being so fat!": you baited them. And not only that... Everyone's got a little crazy in them.
We just don't go to the Chateau Marmont and act batshit crazy in front of Perez and his asshole friends. You know why? Because we weren't in The Parent Trap when we were twelve years old (I imdb'd her age and did some awesome math. I'm not THAT creepy). It turns out that pays a little more than the hourly rate at the Homefield Advantage baseball card shop (I got unlimited airheads and jelly bellies. I should have negotiated a bit harder). And you know what you did when you got money in your formative years? That's right: you bought pot and alcohol. And you did them. And then you passed out in front seats of cars. And then your friends laughed, and you became a lesbia...well ok so you just went a bit apeshit and had too much fun. The kind that got you grounded when you came home and tried to go through the doggie door and your mom woke up (totally hypothetical).
But that's the thing: you just got in trouble, everyone knew you were just going through "a phase", and then you grew up and got a job. So take a minute, go through your upbringing and your childhood shenanigans. Ready? Okay. Here's how that same thing went down for Lindsay Lohan.
It turns out people looked at Lindsay Lohan when she was a kid and said, "Hey! That girl is gonna be cute and already kind of is! She should be in movies." You know who they said that to? HER BATSHIT CRAZY mom. And her dad who was...oh I don't know, IN JAIL ALL THE TIME for being a person who does things that make them go to jail (again, re: not your dad). So captain moneyhoarders one and two put her in movies. When she was around sixteen, her mom said, "Hey, Lindsay, don't worry about school or thinking. Check out this awesome alcohol I found that looks like water! Go drink it and date the guy from That 70's Show. He looks like a winner!" And then when she got wasted with her friends and came through the doggie door (AGAIN, hypothetically)? Her mom was right behind her because she was coming home from the party, too.
Here's the fun part: she made a billion katrillion dollars in the process. When I had twenty bucks? I thought it was a killer idea to go buy some keystone light because it tasted really bad and made me want to lunge at girls who were out of my range. Lindsay had enough money to buy nine bars, drink them, and then laugh as one of her twelve cars drove her home. Oh, and her mom was high-fiving her the whole time. If someone told Lindsay Lohan at this point in time that the police were magical unicorns that only emerge when people without money look at other people, she would probably have to believe them. She just didn't have a normal upbringing.
Fast forward to now, and the girl is a trainwreck. Her career choices were to create a fake tanning line in LA (which I'm pretty sure is like making a line of designer snow or ice cubes in Alaska) and to create a designer line of...leggings. She has dated ninety famous people who also live in hollywood/narnia and her last movie was like a movie about a hooker who's not a hooker but MAYBE is a hooker because she doesn't know she killed her. Seriously. Write that down: this is her career. She is playing grown-up, except she is playing it in magical sugar cookie land.
And now, she just had some whirlwind romance with someone. The kind YOU'VE been through. Where everything makes you laugh and you think people's breath isn't bad in the morning because they are SO ADORABLE! That kind. And she's going through this ugly, terrible breakup where everyone, including presumably your grandparents, know about it. That she "totes couldn't get into the club because Samantha's family has a restraining order on her." That she has been twittering cray cray galore about how Samantha sucks. Everyone is watching someone have a REALLY bad breakup, and we're all talking about it like this is so unheard of and "sad" because she's pathetic.
If someone watched my breakups and took pictures and documented it? Yikes.
"Michelle breaks up with Drew because he is a goldminer in Nevada with no career ambition." says US Weekly.
Cover of People Magazine Headline: (Picture of Michelle) "I'm dating a male model, and I'm happy"
"Drew out of control drinking wine on mom's couch. ENOUGH says family...they are worried he's rehab bound!"
Drew's Best Friend Speaks! "He's just...he doesn't do anything but cry. Like, a wheezing cry. Oh, and he writes her all these letters. It's kind of creepy."
All of that right there? Not one word is fiction (yeah I was a goldminer for a summer. I know, right? ladies, line goes to the right). See? Now I'm batshit crazy. Because my girlfriend and I broke up, and it sucked. That's it. It's not that exciting.
But the bottom line is: I had a bad breakup and my family took care of me. When I didn't get a real job? My family said that Narnia is actually closed now, so I'm gonna have to try to get one of those "real" jobs in San Francisco. They took care of me.
This girl's family is just sitting there. They are not normal. They are putting out press releases. No one is saying, "Hey kiddo. Maybe sit this one out and, you know, don't talk for a while." They are letting her give interviews to US Weekly. Because THAT'S a healthy outlet.
So if you see Lindsay on the street, say sorry. Tell her that you are probably kind of crazy, too. Maybe not BATshit crazy, but probably a little crazy, too. Because really, we're all a little crazy. You just don't have a camera on you when you are drunk texting your ex at 2am or falling asleep on street corners in Menlo Park because you "died".
(Hey, I got a little crazy in me. What can I say? Lindsay: Call me)