#55 Celebrity Suicide Notes - Kirstie Alley

My Darling John,

I will not lie and pretend you have not hurt me: you have (badly). But in my hour of need I know you are not a mean person and will understand my pain better than anyone else. I know I wasn't always the greatest friend, sometimes too distant, sometimes too needy. But I was friend, and you was also that to me... more.

♫♫ Making your way in the world today
takes everything you got
taking a break from all the worry
Sure would help a lot
Wouldn't you like to get away...♫♫

How true are those words! Yes I would like to “get away” and I will.

One could say: Scientology's done me “up the arse”. $5, 000 000 and I'm still pushing 200lb... what a rip off! They promised me “You'll once again be toilet porn for the family” and “Every kid from here to Afghanistan will be 'knocking one out' over you!” Well it hasn't happened! Once again God has let me down.

The very last straw was my Wikipedia photo. Here: Fat Alley smiling
Behind me were two Hollywood executives, one whispering to the other “She's just a Fat Barmaid'” and in front of me I had an interviewer luring me over with a tub of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Munky ice cream (you can see its shadow on my left breast). After gorging the entire tub I felt like a starlett whore. There I was, waddling into a premiere, bursting for a shit and with BJ cream all over my tits! What the Fuck! It was there, at that point, I realised Scientology doesn't work, there is no God, and unless someone decides to make a film with a 50 year old obese heroine, I've no chance of landing another fucking role in my life. No, all that's left is the knife... and I'm not talking about the surgeon's!

John, I will not suffer and sweat any more and want to check out while I can still at least support my own body weight. I don't want to be buried in a wheelchair!

My preferred choice of suicide would be 'hanging', but I'd only end up pulling the ceiling down. I can see it now, me bursting out unscathed from under the debris and staggering off in the direction of the fridge for 'one last' cream cake(s). Nah, it's too risky. Then there's putting myself through a mincer, but that's more a sexual fantasy and not really possible. So, I've decided, it's either gonna be a boring overdose, or the more dramatic/romantic act of slicing my 'wiping' hand off. I think I'm gonna go with tablets... barbiturate overdose is a bit of a tradition amongst us Fatties.

Well, that's it John... my mind is made up. By the time you read this I will be liberated from the donut shaped body I am trapped within. Be as sad as you like (don't hold back!), it's a tragedy and i want people to be crushed and broken by my loss. If any internet site starts up as a place for the bereaved and grief-stricken to meet and console each other, would you please make sure they put my face in the centre of a huge heart made from roses - just like they did when Princess Diana died.

No matter where I end up, be sure I am thinking of You... I am always thinking of You.

I Love You 'till the end of Time, Kirstie A. XXXXXXXXX

5 comments:

  1. Oh how very very sad to think of her eating all those cream cakes alone! I say its time for Jaws and us to go on a vacation trip to her house. I'm sure there is a lot of yummy things for all of us to eat! And depending on how fattie she has become, we could have a fun game of keep away with her in her motorized wheelchair. Why motorized? Because she's a star! And stars never have to propel themselves along, thats why!

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  2. I have lost count of the number of times I have masturbated whilst watching Cheers.

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  3. @ Abigail: I'm thinking Tommy. Hundreds of retards walking free from their chairs and bursting from metal braces. The Nerdettes minus bibs and nappies. There's a fortune to be made there. X

    @ Biki: You could be right. And anyway, what's the bitch doing writing to John? he's mine! X

    @ Quiet Richard: Stick to donkeys... they're less demanding than hollywood heavyweights! X

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  4. She went so far since she was a pointy-eared Vulcan.

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