When I have my mental breakdown, if you love me in the very least, please, please, please do not call Dr. Phil. In fact, don’t call anyone with their own television show. It won’t take much effort to locate a good therapist. The local Mental Health Association can recommend a doctor who specializes in whatever has sent me over the edge. If it involves helicopters always flying over me, idiots rifling through my trash and cameras constantly pointed at my crotch, a talk show appearance is NOT going to make things better. Buy me some underwear and take me someplace where paparazzi are treated like the criminals that they are. I suspect my personal crisis will be much simpler than that anyway. I think someone in Hawaii specializes in my problem. Send me there for a week and I’ll feel much better. Thank you for caring about me.

Love, Cathy

P.S. I sure hope Britney’s problem is Rheumatoid Arthritis.