I can just picture the conversation you had with your agent last hiatus, after Veronica Mars got canceled and you, rightfully so, were fuh-reakin’ out over the Next Step.
AGENT: K-Bell, your mascara is running, sweetie. Listen to me. We’ve figured out a whole new direction for you.
KRISTEN: I should be in Maxim again?
KRISTEN: Really? Think people will buy that?
AGENT: Sure, why not? People have had enough of this cute, sweet, underdog stuff. Besides, you need to exercise those Tisch School of the Arts chops.
So you listened to your agent, signed on to be the bitchy narrator of Gossip Girl, our favorite show about mutes, and then agreed to be evil, electrifying Elle on Heroezzz, our favorite show about castratos. But guess what? I’m not buyin’ it. Kristen Bell, Bad Girl is you in drag.
And I like rooting for you. You were so scrappy and spunky and sassy on V. Mars–all the words we’d ascribe to midget girls like you with big personalities. Diana started talking like Veronica, in noirish one-liners and zingers. And the one time I saw you up close, I was actually rendered speechless (not unlike the time I saw Lorenzo Lamas in the bread aisle of the grocery store, but that’s another story). You have, I noticed that fateful day, tiny, adorable feet.
I’m not feeling the new you. Frankly, you suck as a Bad Girl. Every time you make a frowny face, the seams show. You’ve convinced me only that you’re an actor desperate not to be pigeonholed rather than a good actor. I’m afraid you’ve even jumped your own shark.
I’d rather see you in Penthouse flashing your bits, honestly, than suffer all this 1-D sneering and snarking. Use that pretty blonde head of yours to make better choices.
still your friend but barely,
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