Just watched Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. Am thoroughly traumatized, can? Dear you, please do not involve yourself in government activities lest you want to have a hole drilled into your ceiling and be tortured till you turn insane. At least a happy kind of insane. Ahhhhh, protect me from warped visions!
Scott Simons’ version of Rihanna’s Umbrella is a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Complete with “Eh, eh ,eh”s.
Mdm. Aguilera, you are indeed a masterpiece, you know how to put up a brilliant show, no doubt about that. You are beautiful, rich, and have millions of adoring fans across the world. But I must tell you something. Your management needs to be worked on. For a whole of 10 minutes, having three photographers in the pit at the front of the stage is a minute matter. But instead they insist on putting us all the way at the back, where the lenses we have are inadequate enough to capture the detailing of your costumes that Robert Cavalli put so much effort into crafting. If we have known we were shooting from the back, instead of the front (which is how it has been done for eons), I would have brought out a 300 mm prime lens with a monopod. Truly disappointing, because we could have taken such beautiful pictures of you. Pity.
Kind of killed my mood thereafter watching you. But, but! Oh Mother made me tear. So I guess it’s all good.
It’s funny how we get so geared up and all excited to go to a club but never set a foot in, making a big detour before going back home to catch a DVD or play computer games. But it’s this simplicity that remains sweet. We all could do without the smoke-stung eyes, alcohol-poisoned livers and puke-splattered shoes. Especially when you party with a group of friends that have no self control whatsoever.
Last night you were on my mind, and I wanted to call you and scream “I still love you!” at the top of my voice. But I didn’t. Because I’m finally ready to fully get over you.
But you’ll always have this special place in my heart. Thank you for being you.
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