First, it needs to be emphatically stated that I am so unattractive in all of these Red Thing pictures the world, if it revolved around me, would come to a crashing end. It also needs to be explained, however, that I said I would post a picture a day and in order to do that sometimes I have to photograph myself and sometimes I maybe just got out of the shower and other times there is really no excuse except that I'm not wearing a lick of make up and Garrett is climbing my legs and wiping boogers on my feet and the fact that I post one at all is almost miraculous. I would also like to point out that instead of focusing on my makeupless face and squinty Renee Zellwegeresque eyes, you should get a load of my collar bone. Doesn't it so look like it's popped out of place or it's going to come and stab you to death in the night? Yah. Beware of the clavicle. Okay. So. Here we have The Magic Scarf (a.k.a. The Red Thing) being worn as The Beret. In the photo, I am trying my best to look brooding and French. It was difficult as I am neither particularly brooding nor the descendant of a Frenchmen. But yes, all you ponderers of the many functions of Magic Scarf, it doubles, triples, gazilliples even, as a beret. Can you see me staring out at the waters of the River Seine while I paint my newest masterpiece in my trend setting GIGANTIC FUZZY BERET? You know you want one.
Has anyone noticed that Hannah Montana, er Miley Cyrus, is absolutely everywhere? We went into WalMart today and she was literally on every corner. And it was SUPER WalMart, mind you. It's hard to be on every corner there. Hannah jackets, Hannah clocks, Hannah wall hangings, Hannah on the front of cereal boxes. Hannah Hannah Hannah! I feel like she's my kid sister and whatever I do I cannot get away from her. And I don't even dislike her. Like I said before, we actually watch the show on occasion because I won't let Garrett watch Ed, Edd & Eddy for obvious brain cell deterioration reasons. I've even got the song that they play during the credits practically memorized--you get the limo out front, hottest styles, every shoe, every color--but dang Miles, maybe you should, like, I don't know, retire? I mean, when you're sixteen and you're plastered all over nightgowns and you have your own doll, is there really anything left to do? Not that I use lyrics from Evita to guide my life or anything but take note:
High flying, adored
What happens now, where do you go from here?
For someone on top of the world
The view is not exactly clear
A shame you did it all at twenty-six (Or, in Miley's case, sixteen)
There are no mysteries now
Nothing can thrill you, no one fulfill you
High flying, adored
I hope you come to terms with boredom
So famous so easily, so soon
It's not the wisest thing to be
You won't care if they love you
It's been done before
You'll despair if they hate you
You'll be drained of all energy
All the young who've made it would agree
And then, on the other hand, "Dang it, Evita, you had all that by the time you were MY AGE? I really need to get with the program."