What's up, bitches? Diane Keaton here. I just got back from seeing The Women and, um, I couldn't help but notice something: I AM NOT IN THIS MOVIE. Where the fuck am I? I am the queen bee of this shit. The hive mother. Annette Bening wishes she could smile through her tears like Diane Keaton! You know the Meg Ryan character? The one who spent her whole life trying to be everything to everybody but somehow somebody is always disappointed? That's like if my entire oeuvre mated with itself and gave birth to a mega-me. I'm sure you remember when Meg Ryan says, "Wouldn't it be great if when you were born, they gave you a rule book?" I am, like, ALWAYS saying that! I should have mailed that shit to myself. Then there's the Jada Pinkett Smith lesbian ("If we're lost, we both ask for directions"). I could SO play that character. I invented lesbians. Look it up. And the little girl who makes a tiny bonfire of tampons because she's just not ready to become a woman? Did you even THINK of casting Diane Keaton in that role? No? Big. Fucking. Mistake. I can play young. Hey, Hollywood. Write this down. Next time you make a two-hour vaginal suppository that hasn't met a feminine cliché it didn't dip in chocolate and shove down America's gullet (smoking, shopping, cheating, faked orgasms, diets, supermodels, bubble baths, hunger, water breaking, Botox), maybe you should do your job and fucking call Diane Keaton. Bitches.