We've seen the story a thousand times. An innocent young girl has big dreams. She puts those dreams on a bus and takes them west. All the way west. She doesn't stop until she gets to the big time. La-la Land. The Dream Factory. The Magic Store. Hollywood.



Our young girl's got what it takes. After busting her ass in a low-budget indie drama, she hits the big time. Franchise movies. Awards statuettes. A fetching pixie cut. She's on top of the world. But the bright lights and smiling faces of Tinseltown hide a seamy underbelly.



It starts out small. She's at a party, having a good time, being glamorous, enjoying her success, and someone offers her a taste. Maybe she just takes a nibble. Maybe she takes a few. But it's not long before she's coming back for more. She thinks she has things under control. She's just having a good time. Everyone else is snacking—she just wants to blend in. But before long, she's standing in a convenience store parking lot at 2 a.m., holding some crumpled-up bills, hoping to score another bag. Before you know it, her career's in the toilet, and she's holed up in some crummy flophouse, her orange-stained fingers clutching a back issue of Vogue. Her issue. From back when she was somebody.



You hate to see it happen to anybody. Especially a sweet kid like Jennifer Lawrence. But in the kind of hard-hitting news you can only get from E!, it was revealed that J-Law, America's Sweetheart, has been suffering from a crippling addiction… to Doritos.



According to costume designer Michael Wilkinson, who was nominated for an Oscar for his work on American Hustle, Lawrence's uncontrollable Doritos habit might well have derailed the potential Best Picture, as her habit of eating the chips while in costume constantly threatened to damage the expensive ivory gown she wears in the film. "Lawrence is a very… let's say… raw and intuitive young lady," Wilkinson said, in the weirdest euphemism for "slovenly" ever. "We were glad we had a couple [backup gowns]."



Somewhere, in the seedy depths of Hollywood's underbelly, Jay Leno is sitting in a darkened room, a low chuckle escaping from the depths of his soul, as he watches another starlet's career crumble into bright orange dust. "Crunch all you want, sweetheart," Leno mutters to himself, a flicker of a smile spreading across his lips. "We'll make more…"

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