I remember when I was a younger Bitter Ben and my skills at bitterness weren’t as refined or perfected, and my family decided that having 5 kids plus two parents wasn’t enough for our house. Since my sister was learning french, my parents decided to take in a foreign exchange student. Her name was Virginia and she was weird. I mean who doesn’t speak English? And why did she require that we feed her three meals a day?

Why couldn’t these foreigners figure out how to feed themselves? I’m not sure who we exchanged her for, but I think whoever we sent was way better and we got the worst of the trade. Kind of like how Indiana got ripped off in the Paul George trade.

Since other people seem to be interested in getting ripped off in trades, I decided to start my own exchange program. Since celebrities are always complaining about how hard it is to be rich and famous, and I’m always complaining about everything, I am starting my own Bitter Exchange program in which I trade lives with them for a week or two, or forever. I haven’t decided to them how long, yet, but whatever I decide it will be a way uncomfortable amount of time for them.

So let’s say Brad Pitt is fed up with having to attend the Oscar’s and talking to cameras and receiving large checks in the mail. He is fed up with having to kiss other actresses all the time, take after take. So he gives me a call and says, “Hey, is this the Bitter Exchange Program?” I say yes. He says, “I’m fed up having to work with Clooney all the time. And these kids that Angelina keeps getting from places. Can you get me a low key terrible life for a little bit?”

I say “Tell me who you are again?”. He gives me a rundown of boring movies, lesser known movies and other boring projects he has done, and I’m like, “Yeah, I can work with that. I’ve never seen any of these movies. How did you even get famous?”  So, I tell him how I sit and play video games all the time, and work for beans every time I have a job, and get up at the crack of noon. And whenever I go somewhere people are constantly ignoring my every move.

He thinks that sounds great, and decides to pay the one million dollar fee a year for the rest of his life, as long as he can make it a week. So we make the exchange. We do some fancy facial computer exchange that makes us look like each other.

I get to his secondary Malibu mansion, and forget his passcode to get into the neighborhood. So I’m locked out. The gardener comes and lets me in.  The butler comes in, tells me that Angelina is on the phone, and she wants to chat about our relationship. Ugggh, so I listen to that idiot drone on for two hours about her stupid movie projects, our 15 kids and how she thinks we need to talk more. She also says that I finally get what I want. Full custody of the kids. They are coming over right now. Just as I’m about to throw the phone across the room, my agent calls.

“Brad, I’ve got a great new script for you. There’s this one where you mountain climb for 70 years and you get lost in the mountains, and you like change and stuff by the end. There isn’t a lot of talking and you have to be dirty and sweaty and have to hide your handsome face a lot. It’s perfect for you! It’s called Seventy Years in Tibet! You know, the sequel!”

I mutter under my breath about how that sounds exactly like a movie I should do again and hang up before he can get a commitment from me.

I run to my garage, and try to pick one of the 14 cars in there to get out of there. I pick the only one that seems to be working, the Volkswagen Beetle(I guess he liked this one when he was filming a movie in Germany), and take off.

I get another call. It is Bitter Ben. “Hey, uh Brad Pitt or whatever?” I say, “How did you get this number! I am a famous actor! Leave me be, paparazzi!”

“No, this is me, the real Brad Pitt, the exchange program guy!” I say, “Oh yeah, what do you want? I’m kind of busy here.”

“I was, uh kind of wondering, if we could exchange back. Your life suuuucks.”

“Actually, Brad Pitt, I was thinking the same thing. How do you deal with that woman?”

We talk for a short time and agree that each other sucks. So we go back. And since it wasn’t for a week, he gives me no money.

ARRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHH

Bitter Exchange Program Ben