||[27 Nov 2007|03:01pm]
Not unlike you, I have no shame. Selfish self-promotion and an illusion to live under... essentially we want it to snow so that there's something to talk about other than grammar and photographs and singing at the top of our lungs. We describe ourselves with every word we say. Write. Type. Think. I described myself to you with a joke, a smile, an embarassing wardrobe maulfunction and some other thing, my X-factor, that forced you along for the ride.
When you're answering questions you answer them like there's a camera around. Because there is. You know it. And you're proud.
You seek attention from the country the same way you crawled at it in gradeschool. Scratched and pleaded and begged, because "you are not a beautiful and unique snowflake". You're Robert Plant. You're the Dalai Lama. You're Satan.