Dear Matthew,You don’t know me, but that doesn’t really matter. None of us know anyone until we know them, right? Everyone’s a stranger at some point. But take my word for it, you should get to know me.I’m looking for a new friend (I’ve been hemorrhaging friends lately), and you seem like a pretty cool guy, so I thought maybe you’d like to be my friend. Not just any old friend though. Best friends.So what do you say, do you want to be my best friend?This may seem a little unusual. I mean you don’t even know who I am. So allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Brett. I write this here blog. And I’m in better shape than you. One of those previous three sentences is false. I’ll let you guess which one.Now, before I explain why we should be best friends, let me start off with a confession. (Honesty’s a good trait for a best friend to have, right?) A few years ago, no one could have paid me to be your best friend. I mean you had a whole series of horrendous—really horrendous—movies. Failure to Launch, Fool’s Gold, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. Are you kidding me? I hope you fired the person who advised you take those roles.And judging by your success over the past few years, I’d say you probably did fire them. You’ve been on quite the roll over the past four years or so. I saw you in a movie called The Paperboy and you were great. Then Killer Joe, and Mud, and even Magic Mike and your small part in Bernie. All of the sudden you became a good actor. A serious actor.I wish time travel existed because I’d love to go back to 2005 and tell people that Matthew McConaughey would win a Best Actor Oscar ten years later and watch those people laugh at me and call me an idiot.Who’s laughing now, assholes?
Anyway, Matt—do you mind if I call you Matt? Actually, Matthew is probably cooler, isn’t it? Maybe not. Sounds a bit pretentious to be honest. Not as cool as Rooster, your older brother’s nickname. That’s what you need. A nickname. What’s a good nickname for you? Hmmm. How about Colt? That’s a cool name and it goes along with your Texas roots.So Colt, let’s be friends. Best friends. I don’t want to sound like one of those celebrity stalkers, but I think you’re pretty badass. The roles you’ve played in your last five or six films are amazing, and your Oscar speech was one of the best of all time, and your personal motto—Just Keep Livin’—just oozes coolness. Good God, you almost make it seem cool to drive a Lincoln. No one else could even come close to that.Before becoming a kickass actor, you were probably most famous for that incident when you were naked and playing bongo drums outside your house. That’s some strange stuff, Colt. I like it though. I mean it makes sense to me. After all, I’m a grown man and the picture on my blog shows me in a bathtub with a hair dryer and a rubber ducky, so that kind of nonsensical shit seems perfectly legit to me.I know what you’re asking yourself right now. “Hey Mr. Dry it in the Water, I know I’m awesome, but why the hell should I be friends with a twerp like you?”Well, first of all, I just gave you the coolest nickname ever. From now on when someone mentions Colt, they’re going to think of you. Like Cher or Madonna or Pele. You’re welcome. Second, we have the same catchphrase. For years I’ve been saying “All right, all right,” when something happens that I agree with, or when someone tells me something I understand. All you did is add another all right to the end of it. Of course it’s cooler when you say it, but really, I’m probably just one all right from being that cool.So what do you say, Colt? Are you looking for a new best friend? Are you dying to hangout with a practically unknown, marginally talented, rather unfunny blogger with not much to offer in the way of charisma? If so, drop me a line, or give me a call. Maybe we can go out for a beer, or on a run or something. We’d have a good time, I’m sure.By the way, you can ignore the fact that I had to Google the correct spelling of your last name. I’ve got it memorized now.Besides, everyone know how to spell Colt.Holy crap! It just occurred to me that if we become best friends we can be know as Cobre. Colt and Brett. Get it? Cobre. Like cobra, only cooler.High five, Colt!This post was written as part of Blogapalooz-Hour, a monthly exercise for ChicagoNow bloggers in which we're given a writing prompt, and challenged to produce a post in one hour. Tonight's prompt: "Write a letter to a celebrity (rock star, politician, athlete, movie star, etc.) convincing them you should become best friends"PREVIOUS POST: I've Hated the Mets for a Long TimeIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Sometimes Lost Friends are the Best Friends+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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