An Open Letter To Scott Disick On Our Shared Birthday
Dear Scott,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUD! Congratulations, you survived 33 years! Proud of you.
…
… So…
… Are you gonna…
… You think you might want to…
… Is there anything you need to say to me…?
IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, TOO, SCOTT.
Forget it. It's fine. I'm not upset. You've had a busy 33 years.
Nearly a third of those years have been spent with the Kardashians. A THIRD, Scott.
In a way, I've spent an even larger percentage of my life with Kourtney, Kim, Khloé, Kris and, like, the other ones. Though, I do understand how watching them voluntarily when I'm feeling ultra-American and actually siring their offspring are two exceptionally different experiences.
Sometimes, I envy you, honestly.
No, I do. Don't give me that look. I DO.
You have three beautiful kids, a bunch of free Kanye West merch and, as of late, a girlfriend young enough for you to legally adopt.
It seems like whatever demons surface throughout your life only succeed in launching you further ahead in the long run.
Do you like your life so far?
Does it bother you that you don't have your own standard Wikipedia page?
Do you believe in God?
Does the idea of dying one day with merely www.keepingupwiththekardashians.wikia.com/wiki/Scott_Disick to memorialize you fill your heart with dread?
Do you regret not speaking up about your eldest son's haircut?
This could be our year, Scott. I know, I know, I say that every year, but this time I really mean it.
We could finally grow up, take responsibility for our pasts and use the lessons we've learned from our mistakes to ensure our bright futures.
You could find a woman your own age to F, who works in local government and is a laid-back, low-key, self-assured type.
I could find a man who buys shorts instead of cutting off the legs of his pants every summer.
We can both achieve recognition beyond our current claims to fame (which for you is Drunk Guy Yelling On His Famous Baby-Momma's TV Show and for me is Girl Whose Boob Accidentally Popped Out Twice At Her High School Senior Picnic).
Can I tell you a secret, Scott? I don't have a Wikipedia page, either. I know, pretty crazy.
One day, though, when we've been dead for years, people from all walks of life (barring those without Internet access) will be able to visit our Wikis and read all about the thrilling lives we led.
Until then, be the best Scott Disick you can be.
Start by refusing to be called “The Lord.” That's a stupid nickname. You're a father. If your kids hear asinine sh*t like that growing up, they're going to be so, so douchey.
Then, remember how closely your actions are watched. The public eye can be a cold, cruel place to live, but you owe so many of your greatest blessings to this precise environment.
Be cautious about the parts of your life witnessed by the world, but don't kill yourself trying because, let's face it, it's not like you're going to run for president any time soon.
Finally — and I need you to look me in my eyes for this one — love yourself. Take care'a dat ass. Eat vitamins. Drink water. In your brave moments, try sobriety because alcohol is poison for our soft, fragile, mortal bodies.
Have confidence behind those misty, ocean eyes lives the soul of a kind, caring man who is just super annoying sometimes.
I want amazing things for us, Scott. I really do. Living your best life isn't always the simplest task, but I'll be here every step of the way.
In honor of your effort, I pledge to abstain from dumbsh*t nicknames.
I pledge to exercise restraint in the eyes of a far smaller public.
I pledge to care for myself in a way no one else can. No, Scott, not in a masturbate-y way, in the way I literally just asked you to do for yourself.
I won't fall asleep eating cheese sandwiches. I'll try sobriety until I feel like quitting because I have a vacation coming up. I'll have confidence behind my spinach, diarrhea eyes lives the soul of a kind, caring woman who is just super self-involved sometimes.
Join me, Scott Disick, for today is the first day of the rest of our Wikipedia pages.
