Dear Spencer Cray-stings,
Girl, I know you be strugglin’ right now. I feel you. Breakups are hard. Especially when your ex-boyfriend is actively involved in a plot to torture you. In the aftermath, breakups often give way to a period of slight mania and/or overly aggressive detective work / Interneting / mourning / spying. I get it. Someone you spent every day with has been abruptly stolen from your life, and there’s all this empty space and time to fill up with, well, not with brushing your hair. That’s for sure.
Because you’re busy trying to prove to yourself that he really did love you. Sifting through the memories, stalking his past, re-visiting the sanitarium where he once lived. But… as a patient? Come on, Lady, that’s taking it a step too far. You’re bigger than this. Well, not physically bigger. But f’sho mentally bigger. Or better. Or something.
However, as Le Fou would say to Gaston if this were Beauty & The Beast: girl, “you’ve got to pull yourself together.”
In the interest of pulling yourself together, I [re]wrote you a song. Please play this in the background as you read/sing along.
“Gosh it disturbs me to see you Spencer,
Looking so down in the dumps.
Allison probs wants to be you Spencer,
That’s why she’s torturing you ruthlessly from her grave.
Few girls on TV are admired like you.
You’re everyone’s favorite totally-crazy-bitch.
Personally, I’m awed and inspired by you,
So could you please be a rolemodel to me again ASAP kthx?”
It’s a rough draft, but has potential for genius, no? I’m working on adding a few more SAT vocab words to it. But it gets to the heart of the matter: Spencer, you are my fave PLL. When my friends and I play “which PLL are you?” over lunch, I always claim Spencer Hastings, even though there are three other very viable / acceptable options! Who, by the way, you have been treating like serious poop lately.
You’re the brainiest, the brunette-est, and the bitchiest, which – if I may go so far as to flatter myself for a moment – is something we have in common. The bitchy part. Hell, if I had an older sister, I’d probably steal all her boyfriends and make her want to destroy my life and emotional stability, too. We have this in common: Looking out for numba one is ingrained in our nature. I respect that.
1. You have the skinniest legs ever.
They’re like twigs. I adore them. I want them. Not enough to exercise, but I want them.
3. You ruin relationships like it ain’t no thang.
I can relate to that, from my high school days, and also some days after high school when I ruined people’s relationships. I know, you don’t mean to. You’re just so athletic and brilliant and sexy and dare devilish that men fawn over you. It’s a struggle to fend them off all at once. You are not to be blamed!
4. You’re like, super messed up in the head, perpetually on adderall, and never study for more than 15 minutes at a time.
Yet you’ve still got all that valedictorian stuff down pat, and never binge eat. If I were A, I’d be way jealous too… I mean. I am way jealous. Which is why I love you. Forget Toby, just make like Emily and be my soulmate. We could have a beautiful life together.
Now that I’ve showered you with compliments, we must discuss the business at hand. That is to say, pulling yourself together. What are you so worried about? I mean, sure, everyone wants to kill and torture you, but what’s the ish, lady? You have so much swag. Just move on from Tobes McGobes, kiss Wren, maybe stab your sister in her sleep – BECAUSE SHE’S CLEARLY INVOLVED IN A PLOT TO BRING YOU DOWN HELLO DUH EVERYONE KNOWS IT – and marry the doctor with the accent. He’s only 2 inches too short. You’ll get over it. Just wear heels on girls nights out. And invest in lots of cute flats.
Hope you enjoyed my life advice. BRB, going to do kegels and think about Toby’s abdominal muscles. Good luck finding A!