Dear Meryl Streep,
Are you my mother?
Will you be my mother?
Why aren’t you my mother?
To say I love you would be a wild understatement. You are my reason for being.
I want you to adopt me. I honestly don’t think this is that huge of a request. Ask any of my Twitter followers or people I’ve passed by in the street that have heard me screaming at the top of my lungs “I love Meryl Streep”, I love you for you. I don’t want to be your daughter to be famous. I just want your love.
And unlike some of your daughters, *cough Mamie cough* I think I’m deserving of your love. Let’s just say, that if you took the time to love me and accept me into your family as one of your own and then you suddenly had to make a very hard decision about which of your kids should be sent to their death, I don’t think you would choose me. I’m loveable.
If smiling awkwardly is all it takes to be your daughter, consider me a Streep.
You could probably get a tax break if you adopted me! And think of all the money I’d save on lawyer’s fees if you didn’t have to keep sending me restraining orders! It’s like, you show up outside Meryl Streep’s apartment ONE time with all your worldly possessions and proclaim “Mom, I’m moving in!” and then all of a sudden the cops are there and people on TMZ are saying you’re a “freaky-deaky psychopath”. Totally uncalled for.
Oh, before I forget, I’d like to apologize for the misunderstanding at your son (and my future brother) Henry’s concert last month. Yes, I did climb onstage and start performing my favourite monologue from each one of your movies. And yes, I did say that “when Meryl adopts me, she’ll probably leave me all of her money and Oscars and awards (but not the Golden Globes, because, ew, who wants those?) because she’ll love me more than her own kids.” And yes, I did show the audience the tattoo I have of your face during the court scene in Kramer Vs Kramer that is located on my calf. And yes, when security showed up, I did shriek and start screaming “I’ll kill myself on this stage before you escort me out of here!” And yes, I did spend the night in jail covered in my own feces and vomit. I did do all of those things.
But in my defense, love knows no bounds. That, and I was also very drunk. Very.
I bet you have good sandwich recipes. I bet you know how to knit a mean Christmas sweater. I bet you never say to one of your daughters “You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. Are you becoming a lesbian? Well, that hairstyle seems to think you are” unlike some biological mothers that some of us have.
Now, I’m not saying I want cancer but if I had cancer and I received a Make A Wish, you, without a doubt, would be my Make A Wish. It wouldn’t be weird at all. I promise. We’d do lots of fun mother and daughter stuff like braid each other’s hair, and watch the Women’s Network, and it would be just like an episode of Gilmore Girls. And when the night was done you would tuck me into bed and whisper into my ear “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”
The night you won this Oscar, I got so drunk that I screamed when your name was called and woke up my dog. Then I sobbed for so long I don’t remember what else happened. It was worth it. But just think, if I was your daughter my name could have been in your speech and what a moment that would have been- for all of us.
Honestly, it wouldn’t even be hard for you to adopt me. Sign a few papers, give me a hug, and proclaim “You’re my daughter now!” (I have no idea how the adoption process works.)
If you adopt me, I promise I will watch all of your daughter Mamie’s failed TV shows.
If you adopt me, I promise I will stop sending your other daughter’s notes with cut-out letters from magazines that say threatening things like “I should be her daughter. NOT YOU, BITCH.”
If you adopt me, I’ll die my hair blonde and work on my accents. I’ll stop using my shampoo bottle as a fake Oscar. I’ll stop telling people I’m the daughter you gave up for adoption in the early 90s because you wanted to focus on your acting career and other children and your marriage.
If you adopt me, we could be happy. No, we will be happy.
With all my love, and other Beatles lyrics,
Your future daughter and apple of your eye,
Samantha “Legally I Am Not Allowed To Refer To Myself As Samantha Streep So I Must Put This Disclaimer Before Doing So” Streep