Fuck, I'm depresseder than yesterday. Thank god Nick Cave made having a crush on Kylie Minogue socially acceptable, because I just can't fight it anymore. She gets to be the replacement for Nicolas Sarkozy as my retarded celebrity crush; I can't maintain now that he's crapped out so bad. And just like him, Kylie is so small - so perfectly wee - brings out the Reducto in me.
Also, her 'In My Arms' single makes me think of kinky sex every time I hear it, and it's huge in Belgium right now, so I'm thinking about kinky sex all the time, which is alright with me. There's something about the resignation of the lyrics, combined with all those whiplash sounds, and the narration of a sexual encounter in such an innocent, composed popgirl voice that makes me reflect on why I enjoyed and excelled at doing what I used to do for most of the time that I was doing it. And that can only be healthy manouevre on the road to arriving at my Integrated Self. Right? Right.
Now let me look at Kylie Minogue pretend to sing and dance. It's better than kittens.
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Kylie came to me through our buddy Vito. He a came a visiting Chicago w/ danse CD's ion tow, and we hosted several danses that 2 weeks over xmas.
Had never considered listening ti her, but Vito's impramateur (sic) on Kylie made her socially acceptable to me - especially because when her better songs are on, well, girls tend to shake their ass.
And that's one of the best things about life - that and a 6-5 PK's win in Moscow on a drunken Wednesday afternoon.
But Hilts - I thought that the two best things in life are a girls who danses and the go ahead run in the bottom of the eight @ Comiskey?
Actually, that's not what I was going to say at all.
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