My aesthetic is in a serious state of decline. Two days ago, I had to fight tears while listening to an Ashlee Simpson song, and not because it was bad. I was just honestly moved.
And today, I left the latest Die Hard completely and totally jazzed. Michael, my viewing partner and partner in general, was completely disappointed. Me? I wanted to go skydiving or something. I was puh-umped!
I might lose friends with these admissions, but I find it necessary to be honest about my likes and dislikes. I am closeted no more. I like Justin Timberlake. I think Avril Lavigne writes some damn good songs. Don't even get me started on Fergie.
I'm sick of being a snob. I am a closet Top 20 girl. There it is. It's out there. It's been said. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to do some shopping at Hollister. No, just kidding. Not even I would stoop to this.
1 comment:
I don't think I could fit into anything at Hollister, much less see the actual merchandise - it's dark in those stores!
Fergie's lived a tough life, you know. As tough as any child star/not really famous girl band member/meth addict/black eyed pea can lead.
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