Fuck Adolescence.
It is what is is.
A
beautiful Friday afternoon. Exasperated being no more. Smiles. Connection's
back, and I am merrily prancing through Web favorites-- what's
new with the Blues, what is
Geraldine Saglio wearing (short hemlines intact, I love you) and the
Resort runway preview from Galliano, de la Renta and Fendi alike. Lack
of diversity status? Demolished. Newcomer Dominican stunner Arlenis
Pena, and notably coveted Jourdan Dunn reigned supreme. Love me some
chocolate goods, eh? Thing is-- I'm on a four-day holiday. Manic
frolicking, irresponsible romp, whatever you call it. Come Sunday! What to expect:
Pay Day (whip!), quest to find obnoxious shoes; anything masculine. Really. Three-day absence from
the tech world-- what have I been up to? Ass-scratching. Re-reading
child affection "the Little Prince", re-wept
(please, do, pick up this Antoine de Saint-Exupery copy!) and
completed some films I missed. Independent brilliance: the film Teeth.
About abstinence (ahem), a "vagina dentata", and ever-awkward yet
intriguing role of Dawn. Lovely. And it led to a movie vault where I
found prehistoric comedy magnificence of Ron Burgundy. "I love.. lamp",
Afternoon Delight and a curiously Gangs Of New York-ish fight scene?
With Mexican percussions? Classic, I tell you. Thursday morning's
idyllic sunrise perfected the earlier win of Zenit St. Petersburg's
first European trophy-- and Arshavin's boyish twist of fate led to my ahem.. potentially grotesque hormone levels. Simply because he's a sexy,
sexy and oh my Lord, sexy.. but onto the bad. Tuesday's over-intoxication by the act of
numbers scattered apathy afterwards. Because I left the paper
unscathed. Certainly it's not my nature to excel in numerical shitfests. And
reiterating-- it is what it is. And it was an F.
[MUSIC] 1990s - See You At The Lights
Stoked about: the Davids in Idol finals. Rooting for? Can't tell, charmed by both. And I'd sell my soul, literally-- to be one of this French Vogue team: Je'taime. Truckloads of love to the Blues come next Thursday. Play to infinite glory, lads-- because we deserve it. And bring Messi to the Bridge! Enough gossip already.
