Mindy has had enough, apparently.
[part one, three]
I saw your email; my assistant read your correspondence to me out loud.
You’re some piece of work.
Your concern although appreciated is as fake as our friendship and partnership.
Admit it, we are friends out of convenience, not that you really have any love or respect for me. You’re the same you that will gladly throw me under the bus to advance whatever status you think your pathetic career has. You were the one who sold salacious stores about me in the media, only to act like you had no idea why I was so upset with you or what was going on. I wonder, who was around you when you wrote that piece of shit you, call a letter. Do yourself a favor; stay out of my business like you visit out of my life unless there is a movie’s premiere you want to go.
If you had half the energy begging for me to stop what makes me feel good, and put it in that pathetic stage career you have. You’d be doing bigger shows instead of being left out in local theater runs.
If you’re that concerned about me, stop dropping my name to gain access to exclusive clubs and events. I’m tired of hearing about you and that washed up the career you tote around.
Now that I think about it, you name drop me way more than you call me.