Ryan, honey, we talked about this before.

Dear Ryan Seacrest,

Oh, Ryan. Sweetheart. I do love you, though I have no clue as to why. Perhaps it's just that you've been in my living room so long now you seem like family? That you're the most unthreatening human being ever factory assembled and gifted to the public? You're like the wee younger brother I never had. I would've totally protected you from the mean kids who beat you up after school because you were teeny and wore gingham shirts under suit jackets. I would've been happy to be your champion in that regard.

But we talked about the airbrushed face last year, right? I thought we had come to Jesus over that little problem. In the early audition rounds this year you sported your natural fairness without apology. I will admit that I noted one day that you "looked like a corpse," but you should not have assumed I was referring to your pallor; it was a comment born of loving concern for the look of haggard sleeplessness you presented, that's all. Listen to me now: You are a fair-skinned boy. There's nothing wrong with that! It looks fine! Why hide your light under an orange bushel?

Also, while I'm playing big sis, when are you going to find a nice partner and settle down? Woman, man, whatever--I just want you to be happy. I don't think that Shana Wall you've been seen with is long-term material, if you know what I mean. Besides, if you're going with the hetero thing, maybe you shouldn't have looked so aghast last night when the adorable Katharine threatened to kiss you?

Anyway, enough. Oh--speaking of last night, when you come home for Thanksgiving this year, please bring me some of what Paula was taking. She was obviously seeing the "colors" in people's voices again and I bet it was fun.

Love and air kisses,

Shell