Dear Meryl Streep,

I know your secret. You obviously drink blood. That is the only explanation I can come up with at the moment regarding your RIDICULOUSLY good looks and youthful appearance at the age of ... wait, 60? That cannot be correct. No, no... I forgot. You drink blood. Right. Anyway. You are 60 years old. I watched "The Devil Wears Prada" for the first time a couple months ago, and I was dumbfounded by three things:

1. The movie was actually pretty entertaining. I'd even venture to say that I'd watch it again. That is a big deal, because for some reason I just always imagined I would hate it. I would avoid watching if it was on TV, I'd always vote against it when choosing a movie to watch with friends, and basically acted as if I were allergic to Anne Hathaway. I don't know how I ended up watching it, but I really liked it. Tee hee. Silly me.

2. You are so dang convincing as a tight lipped, white haired, El Diablo of a fashionista ... it is chilling. You've obviously still got it.

Speaking of things you've still got:

3. You are one hot mother of a grandma. I mean seriously. Like a fine wine, you just become sweeter and sassier with age. I don't actually know anything about wine. But let me show you what I'm talking about:

This is you as a young actress, you pretty lady you...

And this is you as an old actress:

What the freak? Not. Fair. You are obviously taking waaaaay longer than your alotted 5 seconds at the fountain of youth. Save some for the whales.

And when I say "whales"... I really mean "whale"... and when I say "whale"... I actually mean.... "me".

So listen up bub, I'll be 23 in a couple weeks and you are hogging all the sassy youngness. My joints are achey, I have to take pee breaks in the middle of the night, and when I stand up after sitting I hobble around like a troll until my knees un-stiffen.

Curse you, you wretched Youth Hog!

(I didn't mean it. I'm scared of you. And can I have your autograph?)

Love,

Kristin