Meet JENNIFER ROUSE... MS. MONOGRAM 2008

Every year, hundreds of hopeful young actresses from across the country compete for the honor of Ms. Monogram, representing the high standards of quality, poise, and perfection embodied by the motion picture studio that gave us such classic films as Women in Bondage, Revenge of the Zombies, and Mr. Muggs Steps Out.

Think it's easy to be a Monogram leading lady? Hey, could Meryl Streep or Kate Hepburn, with all their fancy-smantzy Oscars, be able to say things like this with a straight face?

“Yeah, let me tell you somethin’ and I’m only gonna tell you this one time so you better listen good and you better listen hard, Bullets Baxter. When I met ya, you was robbin’ nickels from blind pencil-hawkers and dimes from old ladies at fillin’ stations. I gave you the one thing you could never have on your own… I gave ya class. Ya see that finger o’ yours? It’s pretty good on the trigger and plenty good on fingerin’ your pals, but it don’t finger me, see? You just remember that, it don’t finger me. I’ll look plenty swell on that witness stand, and you’ll look like the cheap third-rate Dillinger you are. They’ll fry you and I’ll light my fag on the sparks, Bullets, laughin’ while I inhale!”

or

“Look, my uncle is dead, and somebody’s killed him, and I’m just not leaving this house until I find out who! If you won’t help me, why, why… you’re just as bad as they are!”

or

“All my life, men have played me for a sucker. I’d do just about anything for a diamond bracelet… and now at last I meet a good, decent, honest man, and the kind of bracelet he puts on me only opens with a key.”

or

“Oh, Jimmy… I know how hard it is on you with mother and dad both gone, and I know I’m only your sister, but I’ve tried to be a parent to you, too. Listen to me. You’ve got to stop running around with those wild kids or else you’ll end up like Spats McElroy. Not the Spats you see now, with the block-long limousine, $200 suits, and beautiful women on both arms, but the Spats of next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, when he’s run out of luck and money and excuses, when the toady who goes out for his coffee and his cigars and his expensive whisky decides to come back with a tommy-gun instead, when he’s hunted like a squirrel up a chimney, when all the black deeds and the black eyes and his black heart come back to haunt him like the cheap, lousy, two-bit hustler he really is. THAT Spats McElroy, Jimmy. The one that doesn’t care whether you and your friends take the rap for him any more than he cares about a pimple on the nose of the man in the moon. All he knows is greed and avarice and unAmericanism and disloyalty, and that’s all his gang knows, too, and the bullet that gets him is going to get him square in the back, and it’s going to blast a hole big enough for a lot of people. Don’t fall into that hole, Jimmy! I beg of you, wise up and don’t fall into that hole!”