Why wouldn't Bill Cosby adopt me?

I don't think any sitcom could make me feel more comfortable or at home as "The Cosby Show." I watch reruns whenever they are on, I laugh when Bill makes his pudding face, I agonize over Vanessa's drama and I harbored a crush on Denise's husband...Theo just didn't really do it for me.

I always wanted to be a Cosby kid. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but damn did I love that Cosby house. I liked the parties they threw, the choreographed song and dance numbers they did for every imaginable reason and AND I would have totally babysat Olivia...even if she did steal the screen from Rudy.

A girl I worked with in the past told me as a youngster she actually believed she was going to grow up to be Rudy. She made her mom do her hair like Rudy's, she'd watch the show religiously and even tried to pick up on some of her mannerisms. I hate to even think of the day reality set in that her dream would never come to fruition. Not only can you not really "grow up" to be Rudy, but the bitch is white. I hate to be Captain Obvious right here, but...yeah.

I liked the way Bill used reverse psychology to get his kids to do what he wanted. I remember the episode where Vanessa gets drunk and has a hangover and Bill convinces her that she and Rudy were going to play a drinking game with him. Vanessa sits in shock as Rudy takes shot after shot. Of course, it was only coca-cola but Vanessa admitted that children shouldn't drink.

I think it would have been amazing to have me as the annoying adopted white kid...like a dyslexic version of "Diff'rent Strokes." We could have had so many meaningful episodes where I work through my scripted stereotypes of black people while the Huxtables put me through law school so I could be just like Mom. I could've learned to braid Rudy's hair, learned the history of Jazz from Bill and I could have just stared in awe of Denise's husband whenever he came over.

Did I mention I thought he was hot? Must have been the uniform.

The Pitt of Despair

Dear Mr. Pitt,

I have to be honest, this is more of an intervention than it is a fan letter.

I'll admit I loved you in "A River Runs through It" and "Legends of the Fall." I liked those movies because you ACTED in them, you didn't just play a smug version of yourself. You actually looked like you played in the mud a bit while now it looks like you might not want to ruin that expensive manicure.

I can't even fathom why you agreed to be in Ocean's 13. What, does George Clooney only come out to play with you if he has a camera in his face and a few more million in his pocket? Not a very good friend, Brad. Real friends play make-believe with you even when you aren't making money. Just ask Whitney Houston. Of course, she smokes crack, which probably means she probably thinks that when Barbie gets to go to the moon, it's real...but that is a whole other letter.

Here's the big one Brad...how can I put this nicely...your hair. Yeah, I saw you just shaved it like Maddox's. I see a trend. When you were with Juliette Lewis back in the day, you both had long, scraggedy hair. When you were with Gwenyth, you got the same short haircut she had, only you looked like a guest on "Sprockets." When you were with Jen, you were Hollywood glamour just like her.

Then, hottie Angelina bats her eyes at you and not only do you get a faux mohawk, but you've decided to become a do-gooder. Just. Like. Her.

I bet when you were with Jen your entire house was outfitted with ivory fixtures and I doubt you ever called to pledge your $15 a year to feed and clothe a African nation.

Lemme ask you a slightly personal question...is Angelina SO amazing in bed that she turns self-absorbed actors into Buddha-worshipping philanthropists? If so, you should really sell that shit...but before you do, I wanna do her. I kinda feel like I might need a little bit more of a social conscience.

I want to see the real Brad Pitt...the SINGLE Brad Pitt. The one who has to do his own hair and make his own decisions. I also wanna see your ass.

Keep up the good work!

Your fan,
Sarah