Dear Hollywood,

You exclusive, elite fuck. Oh sorry, YOU EXCLUSIVE, ELITE, PRETENTIOUS, FUCK. I have been trying to say "hello" now for six years and because I am not a daughter, cousin, lovechild or tampon string of a Hanks, Streep, Spielberg, Sandler, Murphy, Nicholson, Apatow, you have ignored me. I honestly think Meryl Streep's cat has a better chance of winning an Oscar because she is well freaking Meryl Streep’s cat. Side note-Meryl seems like a cat person simply because I cannot picture three time Oscar winner (is it more?) Meryl Streep picking up dog shit. If she did, she would have won a Golden Globe for it. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not saying Maud Apatow doesn't deserve success because she is the child of comedy king, Judd Apatow. She does, she is great! In fact, why hasn't she been in more movies? She's the perfect combo between quirky and serious. Ugh, now I'm pissed at her agent. ANYWAY. MY POINT IS...that maybe, just maybe, there can be room for both of us? Get Maud in there for the box office and then me (Amanda) in there out of the kindness of your heart, Hollywood. I'm funny. I know this because my mother, aunt and grandma tell me I am.

Lucille Ball is a personal hero of mine and have been watching I Love Lucy since I was a newborn. I didn't really full understand it then but I cried when my hair turned brown instead of red. For years, I have been trying to convince hair stylist's to dye my hair and they refuse. I am a paying freaking customer and they refuse! Once my mother realized I had the comedy bug she introduced me to an entire new world and my best friends consisted of characters from the Mary Tyler Moore Show, Dick Van Dyke, I love Lucy (DUH) and Fawlty Towers. I even walked around with a British accent for a while.

"Amanda, dinner is ready"

"Coming Mummy"!!

I think my mother knew what she was doing because it kept me out of trouble. I was a sixteen year old girl on a Saturday night binge watching Mash (for the twentieth time) instead of using my Maryland fake ID to go clubbing. My parents would go out for the evening and there I was, drinking my cranberry juice, eating a burger and fries with a side of s'mores pop tarts, quoting lines from the TV. Eventually, it got so bad the line of reality and television blended. I once got sent to the principal's office for laughing at my teachers outfit, hair and lipstick. When the principal asked me why I thought it was okay, I replied- "What's the big deal deal? Basil (Fawty Towers) told Polly her hair looked like a rat's nest with shit in it". I got sent home for the rest of the day and was thrilled because I finished season three of I Love Lucy (for the 10000000th time). I'd like to take a moment to apologize to Ms. Mansfield for telling her that her lipstick made her look like a whore. I am very sorry. But, it did. It was bright pink. What Upper East Side principal walks into Sephora and thinks fuchsia is a good choice? Stupid idiot. ( Ricky Ricardo told me to say that).

What I am trying to say is, entertainment is my life. I do not belong in a world without it and have been trying to say hey, "HERE I AM" for six years and I am tired. I have something to offer and just need to be given the chance. GIVE ME THE CHANCE GOD DAMNIT. Pretty please?

Cheerio,

Young Grandma