Dearest Peter Madrigal,
You vain, pirate-looking fellow. You pompous Jack Sparrow knockoff.
I ran into you last week while you tragically waited in line alone at Good Times at Davey Wayne’s. I was on my way out in a super hip combo of black skinnies, a Metallica tee and blackberry-lip stain. I stopped dead in my tracks, (the sad, overzealous little Chicagoan that I am) to observe your presence.
“Are—are you Peter from–?”
“YUP. Yeah. I am?” You said with an irritated look on your arrogant face as you looked back to your iphone.
Oh sorry! Can’t finish my story! Because this just in: You don’t look like Johnny Depp! And if we’re being brutally honest, Johnny Depp would have been nicer than you were, even if he has that weird incoherent fake-European battered Kentucky accent. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN KINDER.
Here’s my question for you, Peter Madrigal. If you are a reality star, why in the ever-loving fuck are you pretending like you don’t want to be recognized? Reality stars are the most fame-hungry humans on the planet, and the ones who own it are badasses. You on the other hand behaved in such a way that made me feel like I had poo smeared across my face. You spoke to me like I was some bridge troll invading your personal space when I was merely asking if you were who I thought you were because I am a fan. Did I ask for a photo? No. Did I bother you further? Nine. But you were so rude. I was a Peter Madrigal fan until this moment. I honestly have no idea how you had the game to even flirt with Vail, much less date Katie and Stassi. What drug did you give them, Peter Madrigal?! Crazy pills?! Sorry I’m a fan on vacation in Los Angeles from boring Chicago where at best I sometimes see members of Steppenwolf eating hot dogs (a world renowned theatre company, fyi). I once had a friend who saw Clare Danes in Millenium Park? Whatever. Seeing you was EXCITING! UNTIL IT WASN’T.
I digress: I met Jax Taylor at Three Dots and a Dash last winter. Now say what you will about him. Perhaps mention how he’s possibly a sex addict and craves attention from all angles. Howe’er, he was perfectly kind almost creepily so and I much preferred that to your garbage piss-poor attitude!
I feel like I’m writing you a Yelp review, Peter Madrigal. I apologize for getting so heated.
Be nice to your fans, because your 15 minutes are being worn quite thin. Also it’s just good to be a good person and your whole “too cool LA thing” isn’t working. Enjoy your life you swashbuckling simpleton.