Even celebrity boyfriends talk shit.If you visit his blog, you will find that Jason Mraz, like most young men, thinks himself loftier than he is. He suspects girls pluck their eyebrows for each other, and that is fucking ridiculous. And it hurts me to say that, because he is a darling.
Jason asserts that "the lovers in their lives won't have a care where the hair is". I can guarantee you if I entered his path unshaven, unplucked, and uncoiffed, he wouldn't look at me twice. Men have this irritating habit of saying it doesn't matter what a woman looks like, but fortunately it is the easiest proven false of all the lies they tell. I expect to be proven correct when I read in People or US that he has married Lindsay Lohan or Tara Reid.
The rest of his note was completely charming and aww shucksingly sweet, however. I suspect I'm a terrible person for dwelling on those few sentences. I actually braved my virus laden computer and stinky internet problem to bitch about it (this is far milder than the original post).
I am exceedingly glad to not know him at all, as he would cost me an immeasurable number of sleepless nights and many dollars in boxes of tissue. I have no interest in that again.
The language is leaving me.Valentine's Day...whatever.
I'm having some irritating problems connecting to the internet, will keep you all posted. Perhaps I have a virus. Wouldn't be the first time.
My new plan.
After trying twice and shelling out 40 bucks to join the U2 fan club, I still have zero U2 tickets. This bothers me for the usual reasons, but I find that I am most upset about the fact that Paris Hilton probably has 8. And I had planned to wear a sparkly top so Bono would see me and invite me onstage. He will probably invite Paris.
New plan.
I have to do *something* to afford myself some degree of success and celebrity. This whole scraping for tickets is ridiculous.
Unfortunately, I already feel a great deal of pressure to be a success (and by success I mean staying away from living in a cardboard box). As the great guru Eminem says, failure is not an option.
Pressure is stifling, and lately it inhibits any creativity I have. I feel really guilty when I work on the book, because I should probably be cleaning houses to make more money.
Also, I am increasingly interested in Jamie Bell, so much so that I have completely changed the type and age of my main character. Dirty dirty dirty.
