I’m happy for you, Teri Hatcher. I really am. You’ve managed to claw your way out of Radio Shack endorsement purgatory and back into a juicy Sunday night dramedy. It’s not easy to do, just ask Daisy Fuentes.

And I’m even willing to look past this recent unfortunate fling (publicity stunt? dare?) with Ryan Seacrest. Seriously, what was that? I saw you interviewed on Access Hollywood or one of those shows and I could just see the mix of bemusement and embarassment on your face as that dipshit Billy Bush probed you about it. Seriously, Teri, why? (side note: I never really thought Ryan Seacrest was gay until this episode. And I think everyone is gay. Now, I don’t think that he could possibly be straight.)

That said, I’m not talking to you when I say this. I’m talking to your character, the loveable basketcase Susan Mayer on Desperate Housewives.

Susan, you’re a plum, but I’m sick of your shit.

Let’s just see if I’ve got this cycle straight, mkay? You fall crazy-ass in love with some dude. The relationship sours. You fall crazy-ass in love with some other dude, but you still think you love Dude #1. So when your relationship with Dude #2 reaches a high point, you end up telling some sort of lie to prevent Dude #2 from finding out about Dude #1. This all comes to a head in a screwball fashion, in some sort of public place or at a dinner party. And it’s hilarious or something.

I guess your schtick is that we’re supposed to empathize with your various madcap situations. And we toss our hands in the air and say “Oh Susan. You’re incorrigible!”

But, no! Stop it! You’ve been boning some grade-a Hollywood beefcake and you’ve single-handedly botched every single one.  That doctor was a piece of ass, you know.

And poor Julie, your long-suffering daughter! I know the whole dynamic of your relationship is supposed to be give-and-take with the maternal advice, given that she’s wise beyond her years and you haven’t yet reached your emotional bat mitzvah. But she really shouldn’t have to deal with her mom kicking her Dad out of the house (in his skivvies!) while she munches her Cocoa Puffs. Lucky for you she’s a good egg, because if she wasn’t, she’d be Charlize Theron in “Monster.”

And one more thing, what exactly do you do for a living? I know the cover story is children’s book author, but I kind of think that’s an excuse to have you sitting around the house all day swooning like a schoolgirl and thinking of new ways to sabotage your life.  Believe me, I have friends who are high up in the world of children’s publishing — I’m pretty certain they wouldn’t stand for your flightiness.

So, my advice, not that you asked.  You seem to have a pretty steady flow of hotness coming your way.  Grab one, spill your guts, get every loveable skeleton out of that walk-in closet and then chain him to your bed.

Love you,

DAN