I don’t want to use a John Deere landfill compactor to crush a flea, but it hit me earlier today that Ashley Tisdale seems like the kind of self-absorbed, chirpy-voiced, me-me-me girl who would have been hunted down in Bobcait Goldthwait‘s God Bless America. I’m focusing on Tisdale because twelve months ago she made a huge obscene deal out of her 26th birthday (“Ooooh, my birthday….all my friends are going to come and pay attention to meeeeee!”) and her 27th birthday is today so let’s get out the noisemakers and roll out the birthday cake, etc.

Seriously, I just wanted to make the point that there are few things more appalling than beedle-y-bee girls who revel in the attention that a birthday brings, and who not only delight in the glorious celebration of the self but hunger for it, at least to the extent that they throw birthday parties for themselves and make YouTube videos about how excited they are that their birthday is only two or three days away and how much they love their friends so, so much…”every one of you!…mwah!” So if I’m semi-acquainted with and/or semi-aware of anyone who organizes their own birthday party and invites, like, 45 or 50 friends with a hint that it’s cool to bring gifts, they are totally, absolutely and permanently crossed off the list for life.

A woman of soul and serenity loves her friends and her pets and her parents as much as Ashley Tisdale, but she chills on the birthday hoo-hah…or at least doesn’t use birthdays to further her social/professional ambitions.

Tisdale would have been, like, totally ideal as one of the leads in For A Good Time, Call… (Focus Features, 8.31).