Outside of the In-Crowd – This is an intervention

Courtney Enlow

Courtney Enlow

We all have our problems and issues. I, for example, cry at ASPCA commercials, I eat whole packages of Mint Milanos in one sitting, and I may be off the wagon on my nasal spray addiction. Life is hard, I get it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive. But Lindsay Lohan, sister-friend, you need help.

Let’s take a picture journey.

This is Lindsay Lohan in what feels so long ago might as well be 1924.

And then this happened.

And this.

And this.

Then she got arrested a bunch of times, faked rehab, got better for awhile, took incredibly awkward bikini pictures at Jeremy Piven’s house, got caught drinking vodka out of water bottles, became a lesbian, got better for a little other while, stalked lesbian lover all over TMZ’s homepage and now she’s this.

… basically.

Google pictures of her from this past weekend’s Ungaro show. Seriously, she looks like death spread on death toast sprinkled with death cinnamon that you can enjoy with a cold glass of death orange juice. I could let my face stew in boiling vinegar for eight weeks and emerge fresher and more daisy-like than this girl.

I know this may seem like a turncoat move. I’m nothing if not completely two-faced. But as the months have gone by, and she’s steadily declined further and further down the path of crazed tweaker, it’s gone from mildly and schadenfreudily amusing to akin to a homeless crackhead you pull away from when passing on the street. You recognize that it’s very sad, but more in the pathetic way, and you’re also grossed out. That is Lindsay Lohan. Right down to the crack.*

Months ago, I began following young Lindsay on Twitter. Initially, it was because she sometimes ingests the funny smoke from silly glass pipes and types stupid things. Now I follow her because I feel like it might be the quickest way to get an ambulance to her house when the inevitable happens. Have you ever read any of Courtney Love’s tweets? Lilo’s are a lot like those, only more nonsensical. They’re also the pathetic kind of sad. Example – Anytime you see her @ a fellow celeb, including former girlfriend and current trapped-in-a-horrible-situation-with-an-unstable-addict-and-I-feel-for-you-girl Samantha Ronson, do yourself a favor and click the @-ed celeb and scroll through their page. You will not find any @-ing of Lindsay Lohan. Sometimes she seems to have an actual conversation with them, complete with responses. But when you look for what she might be responding to, nothing’s there.

This is a girl who only a few years ago had Hollywood banging down her door. Now, minor flash-in-the-pan teen sensations won’t even tweet her back. Hot TV guys request their seats be moved when she attempts to sit near them at fashion shows. Her life actually sucks. I mean, I genuinely can’t look at anything going for her that allows me to even fake a “well at least you have ____” because “____” is just that, blank. She doesn’t have a real job, flesh on her body, a decent family, certainly not her health. And it’s her doing.

If you’ve followed the story of Lindsay Lohan and her problems over the years, you’ve no doubt seen one recurring pattern: nothing is ever her fault. That coke was in those pants because those weren’t my pants. People made a huge deal about the fact that I dropped to 80 pounds because the media is obsessed with finding flaws in people. I crashed my car into a parked car because of the paparazzi who didn’t show up until after the wreck. I told Us Weekly all about how an entire line of famous people laughed at me and called me names because they’re totally mean, not at all because I’m a completely paranoid tweaker. And in fairness to Lindsay, that part isn’t her fault. Because you know who else refuses to assign the slightest bit of blame to her for even the worst of her actions? Her parents. Her dad’s too busy judging the evil devil lesbian for pulling his daughter down the path of dirty sapphic sin, and her mother is too busy buddying up to her and doing lines off bathroom sinks together (bonding!) to actually be her mother. I mean, just look at her sister.

This chick is fifteen, and not in fact a 38-year-old divorced mother of two who does shots and screams that she’s a cougar and a MILF though no one’s listening. Mackenzie Phillips was a more well-adjusted, healthy-looking teenager. Dina and Michael, you should both be slapped, and when your eldest is found in the Mark Twain Hotel with two days worth of rigor and a needle melded to her inner-elbow, I hope you’re charged with manslaughter.

I don’t mean to be crude and graphic (for once) and I in no way wish Lindsay harm. But if a change isn’t made, she will end up as our age group’s Dana Plato, only I doubt she’ll last into her thirties. This is a talented girl who is only 23 and not beyond help, that is if someone would actually help her.

So, all this said and done, what I’m really asking is if it would be totally uncool if I went as her for Halloween. You can be honest.

* Allegedly. Of course this is all alleged. Legally speaking, she’s TOTALLY sober you guys. How dare you judge her or think otherwise. I mean, who hasn’t faked going to alcohol drug rehab?

Courtney Enlow is a writer living in Chicago and working as a corporate shill to pay the bills. You can contact her at courtney@hobotrashcan.com.

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Comments(2)
  1. Court's Dad October 5, 2009
  2. MSTJedi October 6, 2009

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