like babies and pacifiers

I didn’t mean to be all sadsies in my last post. So let’s talk about fun things which might very well be sad things if you are my mom, looking at me and wondering what happened to this precious little girl she spent so much goddamn money on and has absolutely no return on that investment. Sorry about those modeling classes I made you pay for, Mom. I really did think I could be the first model from Saipan. Who had a unibrow. And who could swallow an alarming then surprising then back to alarming amount of jalapeno poppers. Tangent: I really was signed up for a modeling class taught by an former beauty queen and in which we learned how to walk to Madonna’s “Holiday.” Try it! It could be so nice!

So here goes: I hereby defend Mariah Carey.

I know. She’s awful. She’s the type of person who is so awful, she probably has requested a birthday-redo because she did not like the mariachi singers hired to serenade her. I’m sure she’s so awful, when you come over to her house, she just makes you sit down and look at her wedding photos, a wedding to which you were not invited but you sent her a tea kettle because she’s the awful type of person who announces that she’s on an all-green tea diet and scoffs at your liter of Diet Coke that you know she knows you drink straight from the bottle.

But you guys. I love Mariah Carey. I can’t deny it. I love her as a performer, an entertainer, the venn diagram of my Mariah Carey fandom and all the songs my junior high boyfriend and I dedicated to each other has no overlap, it’s one circle. I’m okay with her lion mane blonde hair and her habit of slipping into a British accent. I’m okay with the excess and the lit shoe closets that are bigger than my house. I’m okay with this because I’ve been listening to her for a very long time.

This was the actual song my boyfriend and I said was “our song.” It was not forever.

This is what I listened to a lot that year, so it brings back images of my blue Catholic school girl skirt, being so young and innocent and wondering which member of Bone Thugs-n-Harmony was going to be my boyfriend. Answer: Bizzy Bone! Real answer: Any of them!

Bone Thugs!

I wanted those Gucci heels.

I loved the filming of this video. Mariah was so focused when she became the bad girl (black haired girls have all the fun) like she was gunning for an Oscar. She’s a method actress!

I understand that I’m giving up what very little street cred I have. I really enjoy her songs because of how they fit into my life, her songs are part of this big soundtrack of living as an awkward teenager on a small island wondering when a boy would look her way, singing along to these poppy tunes and never hitting any of the notes.

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