To One Ms. Jamie Lee Curtis:
Despite your declining career, I wanted to believe you. I trusted you and your high-fallutin yoghurt deliverance, which were nothing more than lies. You lied to me, you lied to my family, and you lied to countless middle-aged women who have nothing better to do than watch television during the middle of the day and view your Activia commercials, which are conveniently interspersed between soap opera segments.
Your empty promises have caused me grief, despair, and diarrhea (well, that may just be my lactose intolerance, but still, I blame you). It was merely last month when I decided to take you up on your "Acitivia challenge" and enter myself in a 5k run, which the yoghurt that pays your salary single-handedly sabotaged by bolstering my immune system and then suddenly dropping my health to below-zero numbers.
I ate and ate and ate and ate and ate your yoghurt, but little did you share with us that suddenly stopping this challenge may, in fact, impede one's health tremendously, and I found myself bed-ridden for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. I did still, however, attempt to run this 5k race but was unable to because I slept through my alarm. How is this related to your fallacy of yoghurt goodness? Simple: You promised me great things, Ms. Curtis, and you failed to deliver.
Certainly I hope the only roles you have coming your way consist of Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2 - 5 and that you are downgraded from yoghurt commercials dealing with irregularity to commercials on incontinence, and you wouldn't want to give those people false promises, now would you?
My only hope is that you may find a way to monetarily rectify this situation before it gets out of hand (I have friends in high places, Ms. Curtis). You can take your vagina yoghurt and stick it.
Incredibly Concerned,
Brandon K. Pfluger
