I know what you’re thinking, America. You’re thinking, “Why is Jennifer Aniston wearing a towel?” That’s a very good question, America. I can only assume that Angelina Jolie stole my clothes, JUST LIKE SHE STOLE EVERYTHING ELSE. Please bring me a blanket and some hot chocolate, America, because I am freezing.
Now, I suspect that you’re also wondering, “Why would Jennifer Aniston need a celebrity perfume? Doesn’t she have better things to do?” Frankly, the answer is no, America. The answer is no. Despite the fact that I have great comic timing and better legs than most 20 year olds, I cannot get a good role for the life of me. I haven’t had a hit movie since “Office Space”, more than a decade ago. I HAD TO DO AN ADAM SANDLER MOVIE, YOU GUYS. I’ll be real with you: the “Friends” money is running out. Mama’s gotta pay the bills. Nose jobs don’t pay for themselves, you know!
So here you go, America: Jennifer Aniston, the perfume! I wanted to name it “Ultrasound”, since all you wannabe gynecologists seem to care about is the contents of my uterus. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you people? Is the every quiver of my ovaries really that fascinating? She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has enough kids for the both of us, anyway. You should be talking about more important things, like my hair. I just dyed it from ‘honey caramel’ to ‘agave syrup caramel’. Priorities, people!
In conclusion, America, please buy my perfume. My manager would like me to tell you that it is an airy, clean jasmine fragrance, very much in keeping with the modern trend of non-indolic jasmine. My manager also says that if you don’t buy it, I’ll have to get back together with John Mayer. Please don’t make me do that, America. I would rather babysit for Angelina than subject myself to another tortured-yet-sensitive rendition of “Your Body is a Wonderland”.