Is glitter really that inspiring of a material that pop singers worldwide feel irresistibly compelled to write songs about it? Are these girls pulling out their credit cards to snort lines of glitter off toilet seats in the bar bathrooms?
I feel like every song Ke$ha has ever released is about glitter. “Glitter and Glamour,” “Glitter Puke.” Her lyrics, if you can call them that, say, “Where they go hardcore, and there’s glitter on the floor,” “Dirt and glitter cover the floor,” “Go insane, go insane, throw some glitter, make it rain.” Pink is talking about “Glitter in the Air.”
Katy Perry is on board the glitter-train, “Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now,” Lady Gaga joined the club with “Glitter and Grease”—where does it end?
What happened to singing about love, lust, and loss?
…and rims, bitches, clubs, and cars?
………what happened to singing?
Cee Lo Green is apparently okay with the new glitter movement.
Looks like Christina Aguilera dipped herself in caramel ice cream topping and then rolled in the dirt before this week’s episode of The Voice. My, god. That self-tanning move was a fail. She just can’t quite nail those looks this year it seems. But damnit, can she ever sing.
How much Vicodin is safe/recommended to take at any given time? Christina is exceeding that amount. Just sloppy. Somebody needs to get that woman’s libido under control. Her inappropriate commentary about the contestants is getting out of hand. I think everyone was uncomfortable when she requested Patrick Thomas to remove his pants. Let’s try to stay on topic, Christina. Besides, the only person needing to remove their pants on NBC is Adam Levine.
I am just not on board with Nakia. His voice is okay, but mostly I feel like he is shouting 90% of the time. The man is not attractive. He looks like Sweetums from The Muppets.
Vicci Martinez has this tribal stomping move she does around the stage during every performance. The judges have referred to it as her “war dance,” but I have dubbed it the “squounce.” A squatting-bounce all over the place. It is too distracting for me to even notice her voice.
I love Casey Weston. She is just a doll with great pipes. If Adam Levine does not bed her, they are both passing up a golden opportunity.
Try as they might, physicians and health gurus worldwide cannot inspire fear of skin cancer in me. Ten times out of ten, I will choose bronziness over epidermal health. I am about as afraid of melanoma as I am afraid of the boogie man. Sorry, SPFers. Sunblock higher than SPF 12 will never touch my flesh. 12 is even stretching it. Normally you won’t find me in anything heavier than 4 or 8. I think the best defense against skin cancer is a good attitude, and I’ve got one. I have a theory that anything above an SPF 30 is a hoax. If I wear anything above an SPF 8, I get zero pigmentation whatsoever. Put me in an SPF 50, and I’d probably disappear. It’s going to be hard to convince me that there’s much of a difference between SPF 30 and SPF 100. It’s like, one glass of orange juice gives me 100% of the Vitamin C I need in one day, so drinking five glasses isn’t going to do me any more good than the single glass already did.
Marketing. It’s all marketing.
WELL, I gotta go. The sun had better show its face so that I may even out my polo tan lines today.
“At least they styled him up a little bit. I mean they did the best they could with his ugly ass.”
“Yeah, he looks like Dom DeLouise.”