Adore Kanye West; I always have. I love his music, think he’s incredibly smart, and the scope of his ambition is inspiring to me. I’m completely un-ironic when I call him a genius, which is something I do on the reg. I found this totally beautiful. And this melted my heart. Weirdly, all of his ridiculous antics and outbursts read, to me, as vulnerability, which makes me love him even more. (For the record, he was right. That Taylor Swift video was terrible.) I know; I’m crazy. I could expand upon my long history of pining for unlike able ego-maniacs (e.g. Kobe Bryant, Justin Bobby, ahem… Scott Disick) but that’s a story for another day. The heart wants what it wants.
Speaking of inexplicable and passionate stances of the heart, I hate Kim Kardashian. Or rather, I have a very complicated relationship with Kim Kardashian. That is, I outwardly loathe her, but also give the woman a LOT of attention. I watch her show, but tell people it’s only because of Mason and his amazing hair. I regularly check her Instagram, but don’t actually follow her. Because actually following her would signal to the world that I was a fan of hers, or something, and I’m too cool/smart/proud to admit that.
As per a recent email strain with Heather…
I have had several pregnancy nightmares. The latest involved me giving a totally painless birth to a baby boy whom I could not name for the life of me. My boyfriend from high school was the father, but since he is a deadbeat my current boyfriend was going to help raise the baby. Except, he was nowhere to be found in the dream. Then, when I got home from the hospital my boyfriend’s cat was there with no litter box. AND I DID NOT KNOW WHAT THE HELL TO DO. I was like, I don’t want a baby! I think the dream’s message was very clear.
Obviously, everyone in the world instantly now knows this fact – thanks social media. So, what what to say about it?
How entertaining! I like baby news and prince / princess fairytales as much as the next person. I like pretty pictures and following with sometimes-rapt attention the lives of people who are far more privileged than myself. And believe me, I’ll follow it…if for no other reason than the fact that I owe the royal pair. They helped my grandmother understand that living together before you were married didn’t mean the loss of my honor / end of my life.
I’m a little weirded out! What’s this fascination with famous people’s procreation? Fantasy wrapped up in a pretty media package? Is it the elevation of the quotidian? (Normal couples have babies every day…but so do Royal People!) Does it allow us to experience all the good things about pregnancy (Photoshopping, designer maternity clothes, royal trust funds) without any of the bad (financial strain, sleeplessness, tummy flab). Living vicariously through the Dutchess of Cambridge = pretty fun.
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