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Wed, Apr. 27th, 2005, 09:16 pm
Kanye and Emily, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G images of themselves, and then writing about it.



I am pleased to announce that in the most recent issue of Ebony magazine, rapper/producer Kanye West has, in a turn of events that can only be described as a pants-shitting shocker, proposed marriage to yours truly. I know, I know, wtf, right? To wit: "[Marriage is] the key to life. I'll definitely be married when I find somebody." The list of what West wants is pretty long and immediate(...)She must be intelligent, attractive, and understanding with "a really dope sense of style that's fresh to death. She has to be able to dress, that's just a common interest. She has to like movies and like all sorts of music -- anywhere from alternative to the Diplomats."

!

Ok, so maybe he's not talking about me. I mean, he definitely is talking about me, he just might not realize that as yet. Mr. West, if I may have a moment of your time, let's take this point by point.

Point one: Intelligence. I don't really think this is something quantifiable, and defending one's own intelligence invariably makes one look retarded. Let's just say I'm of average intelligence, but I can definitely keep up with you. I'm not trying to sound condescending here, it's just a fact of life.

Rolling directly on to point two: Attractiveness. Ok, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so whatever. I know I'm no oil painting, but I do know that you like large asses, so I've got this one in spades.

Re: "Understanding" -- I know where you are coming from, Kanye. I know all about middle class upbringing, and I know ALL about the Gap. I know a fair amount about Chicago (admittedly this mainly has to do with house music and Big Black). I, too, can appreciate the shimmering beauty of a diamond and simultaneously shed a bitter tear for the Africans that may/may not have died in unsafe mining conditions in order to procure it. I, too, enjoy argyle.

Which brings us here. Ok. My Achilles heel is obviously the knowing-how-to-dress bit. Don't freak -- I know this is important to you, but rest assured that I am willing to work. You'll be happy to know that I've recently taken an interest in pastels. I am aware of your fondness of the color pink -- I own exactly one clothing item in this hue: a t-shirt with a diagram of human female genitalia on the front (that, if not fresh to death, is at least fresh to some type of meningital, debilitating illness.) You may not be aware of this, but you and I own the same jacket (and I know what you're thinking, but no, big-head, I bought it before I knew you). I'm also very skilled at knowing how others should dress, and cracking wise about their utter lack of knowledge in this area.

I like movies (although this is a kind of Junior High criterium in a "YOU like pizza? *I* like pizza!" kind of way). I'm not sure what kind you like, but I generally like ones that are either about mafia people or Bob Dylan. I've been forced to sit through some premo crap over the years, and let's face it: you have a Rocafella chain, and if you wanted to watch Freddy Got Fingered I would massage your feet with peppermint oil for the 1:29 it lasted without a single withering retort.

Re: music. My taste in music is HIDEOUSLY varied! It is an oft-marked characteristic of mine! It is kind of my "thing"! I like grindcore and Britney! I like hip-hop and klezmer! Do me!

But seriously, I could expose you to some decent rock music, as I am all too aware of your predilection towards that John Mayer/Franz Ferdinand/whatever crappy white music crap. Crap. I could play you some post-punk or something, and who knows! I may someday be credited with revitalizing your career at a critical point.\

More evidence that we are star-crossed:
We are both arrogant as hell and obsessed with our images to an unhealthy degree. I can venomously tear you down or suavely compliment you into a frenzy of self-obsession. Whichever way you want to go, my friend.

You like to dress up as a bear and I am totally not going to bust your balls about it. Go on and do that.

And most importantly: *I'm* a college dropout. *You're* a college dropout. I like you for reasons that have nothing to do with the Benz or the backpack (I basically just like the way you look in a white t-shirt, and I'm sure you can appreciate how upfront and self-aware I am regarding that shallowness, because you have basically built a career [or at least a hit single] on that very idea!). And how often do you get that?

Call me.

Thu, Apr. 28th, 2005 08:16 pm (UTC)
evelynn

i could always tell.

Thu, Apr. 28th, 2005 08:38 pm (UTC)
karatecommie: ...

Could tell that Kanye wanted me?

Thu, Apr. 28th, 2005 10:03 pm (UTC)
evelynn: Re: ...

yes

Mon, Sep. 5th, 2005 04:34 am (UTC)
wahhhmbulance

Hell.

If you told him you'd let him spank you he'd prolly hit it.


I bet he likes white girls.