I’m absolutely captivated by a woman whom I have only seen on television and the internet. I don’t want this to come off as condescending (which means it will), but I’m pretty sure I need the smallest woman in the world in my life. And if I can just get my message to her somehow, someway, and let her know that I really just want what’s best for her (living with me full time), I know she will go for it!
Jyoti Amge, the newly minted 2014 Guinness World Records title holder for Smallest Woman in the World, is 18 years old and stands an absolutely oh-my-god precious 31 inches tall. 2 feet, 7 inches! I HAVE NOT ONE, BUT TWO TVS THAT ARE BIGGER THAN HER. My fridge opens wider than she is tall. Newborn babies have been born that were longer (probably). She is just a little over two-and-a-half $5 footlongs high. YOU CAN CARRY HER PLACES LIKE YOU WOULD A TODDLER MINUS THE WHOLE SCREAMING TODDLER PART.
I HAVE NOT ONE, BUT TWO TVS THAT ARE BIGGER THAN HER.
Sorry for the caps. I am just really, really excited about Jyoti possibly being my new very best friend ever. And roommate. I’m not crazy; I’m just really excitable. It’s not the crazy thing that you’re thinking it is. People get roommates literally ALL THE TIME. It’s not weird to see someone and just know you will be perfect together. Friendship at first sight exists! It really does.
Jyoti went to New York City recently to be officially measured for the record books and to promote the new Guinness World Records book. Her home is in India, but I am almost certain we have plenty of room for her here. I could put her under the stairs like the Dursleys did Harry Potter, except she would love it and find it quite roomy.
And oh! OH! Jyoti designs her own clothes, which is very convenient, because I have an awesome idea for a pimp costume she could wear for Halloween, and also since I can’t sew for shit. I’ll be the hooker, and it will be so hilarious. I mean, a hooker carrying in her pimp to a Halloween party? In what possible universe is that not totally killer? Does anybody have a cane we can borrow for a bit?
Wait. Oh my gosh, what if I made her go as Mr. Peanut, the Planters peanut guy? We’d fucking just win Halloween hands down for all time.
Get this, too: She wants to be an actress in Bollywood, and she already has one movie to her credit. Oh. My. Gosh. How is that not the most adorable thing you have ever fucking heard? She wants to be famous. Like she’s not already the cutest little doodle bug I have ever laid eyes on already! And I can help her. I know people. In REAL Hollywood, not this Bollywood bullshit. Well, just one “people,” but I can definitely email him and get lots of help from him. Alfred’s super-nice.
I know most people would be all, “Oh, another immigrant mouth to feed!” But not this chica. I’m not some selfish jerk who thinks only real Americans should get to eat in America. Plus, I bet she hardly eats anything. A cupcake to her is like a whole cake to us. I can’t eat a whole cake. I could probably eat all the icing off, but a whole cake is a definite no-go. So you see, feeding her is not an issue at all.
I mean, it only costs 30 cents a day to feed the 8-year-old kid I adopted in Honduras, who still hasn’t sent me one fucking art project he’s made, even though my friend Rita adopted a kid from there at the same time, and she gets finger paintings and handmade cards from her kid almost every week. I don’t know why the little shit they gave me is such an ingrate, but anyway!
Let’s face it: She is better off with me in America. Because, come on. America!
I know she has a real mom and dad, too, and that’s cool, but let’s face it: She is better off with me in America. Because, come on. America! They can see her two weeks in the summer if we’re not too busy shooting flicks (see, I already know how to speak Hollywood, too). She’s 18, anyway; they can’t decide for her.
Did I tell you she’s about to be in college? She’s going to college! So she’s got to be pretty smart, right? I bet her stack of books for school is taller than she is. How much you wanna bet?
This is so incredible, too: she weighs 12 pounds! Twelve. That’s only two times what Dexter Morgan Fairchild, my Chihuahua, weighs.
I think I will do a fantastic job being best friend to Jyoti, and I will be very responsible with her, too. No driving the Barbie Jeep unless you keep your college grades up, missy! Hahaha, I’m kidding. I don’t have a Barbie Jeep for her (yet).
Oh, this is so presh: She did an interview (they used a regular-sized microphone! Adorbs!) in which she said, “I don’t regret being my size. I am happy the way I am. It’s allowed me to do amazing things.” Fuck yeah, amazing things! Like hanging with me possibly, for instance.
In summary, Jyoti is tiny, can sew and design her own clothes, live under my stairs, be fed on the cheap, ride my pet Chihuahua (possibly), and be my best friend forever who acts in movies (Game of Thrones would be perfect for us “¦ her!) – and no big deal – is working on a college degree! Just your average woman who is the size of my tires!