Motherf*cking Lies (Noun) The worst kind of lies, because you're not only lying to the world, you're lying to yourself, sister. 

Alanis Morissette, who has an album coming out this week, "Flowers of Entanglement" (in stores, tomorrow) and is currently working on a book of essays, photographs, and "mood-boosting exercises" (a.k.a., hippie bullshit), recently said that she uses writing as an outlet for her anger, which -- she emphasizes -- is not directed toward her ex-boyfriend, Ryan Reynolds, who is engaged to Scarlett Johansson.

"I'm really happy for him," she said.

Oh, honey. Oh, Alanis. We're friends, right? I mean, I own all your albums, which makes us, at least, business associates, right? So as a friend/business associate, a piece of advice: Stop with the motherfucking lies, girl. No one can blame you for that anger. Ryan Reynolds was a helluva catch. And he left you for a dim bulb with gargantuan mammaries and the ability to pout on command. You have every right to be angry. But when you claim to be happy for Ryan, you're just lying to yourself and everyone who cares about you.

Let it out, Alanis. Let out that anger. And be honest about where you're directing it: That son of a bitch with the delicious abs and the incredible sense of humor. The sooner you can admit that to yourself, the sooner we can get that amazing, vitriol-infused album we know that's in you.

And if it's any consolation, I'd choose you over Scarlett any day of the week.

Here's some Alanis, during better times: