Oh hey, Jen. Jenny. Jennifer. J Law. Which do you prefer? Maybe just J? Or perhaps we could get totally random and I could call you Miriam, then Miri for short? It would be sooo silly and end up being this inside joke that only you and I get. I think you’d love that, because you’ve got a few screws loose, and I dig that about you.
It comes as no surprise that I’m still abnormally invested in gaining some kind of friendship with Jennifer Lawrence (and Emma Stone, but she will get her own blog post at some point. The three of us would be amazing together, never fight, only eat ice cream, and watch bad television). Back in September 2012, I wrote a blog about how invaluable Miss Lawrence is to all of us, especially since the likes of Lindsay Lohan and Amanda Bynes are flying off the life wagon.
Now with J Law riding the success of the magnificent gem that is Silver Linings Playbook and, thus, parading through shit-tons of interviews and acceptance speeches, it’s become even more evident how perfect we are for each other. It’s clear that a friendship between us would make both our lives so much greater, and peace would begin spreading through the world as unicorns, once again, feel safe to roam the earth. Fireworks, people. That’s what I’m saying.
I’m not exactly in the market for more friends, I’ve got a handful of amazing pals and a really great guy, so I’m pretty well stacked. But sometimes there are people you’re struck by and you think, “Wow, I would totally risk a restraining order to become friends with that person.”
Jennifer, you’re totally that person for me – and by the grace of Google, if you find this blog post, I firmly believe you’d appreciate that restraining order bit. I mean, I’m kind of joking, but I just feel really sure that you’d like me, because if your voice is the combination of Fergie and Jesus (see above), then mine is the combo of will.i.am and God. So, basically, I sound like an autotuned Morgan Freeman.
First of all, we have a lot in common. For instance.
Ditto, Miri. We can go to McDonald’s, buy ten orders of large french fries, and then try eating them with only our elbows. This would probably only last for about 15 seconds because, let’s face it, those french fries smell too fucking good and we’ll need all ten fingers.
Secondly, even though I’m about five years older than you, I believe the way you react in all your fancy shmancy awards show red carpets and wins is exactly the way I would. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing and you say amazingly weird things that only reinforces the fact – yes, FACT – that we’d be friends forever. I’d love to introduce you to my husband’s handsome single brother who’s around your age. We could be neighbors and have movie marathons and reread Harry Potter every year. So good.
See, you thanked MTV in your SAG acceptance speech last night (OMG CONGRATS! I definitely screamed for you because I thought Jessica Chastain had it all locked up. I desperately want you to win an Oscar now), and, once again, you shot a friendship arrow right through my fucking heart. Stop teasing me, Jenny. Let’s just have lunch already and begin our happily ever after.
Anyway, you’re pretty awesome and I’m rooting for you because, by doing so, I feel like I’m rooting for a friend. I actually mean that seriously, because you seem legitimately great and I envy your stylists, makeup crew, and publicist for being able to hang out with you all the time.
So if you ever need a friend – let’s assume for the purpose of this post that you do – I’d be cool with dat.
PS: I have two older brothers, too! WHAT ARE THE ODDS? (don’t answer that, I’m sure they’re high.)