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    I don’t wanna cry

    Dear Mariah:

    Because of you, I almost had the perfect weekend.

    I mean, it’s because of you that I had to add the “almost.” Of course, Atsushi would have had to be here for it to be really perfect, but we had an appropriately tender anniversary call, and he seems less stressed by work lately, which is as perfect as things get while he’s away. Yesterday, I got the most delicious little spring sweater at Zegna to wear when we have dinner this Saturday. My best friend appears to be cementing a new relationship with a man I approve of. On Saturday night, everyone was in a great mood–ran into guys I hadn’t seen for ages but always enjoy talking too–and there was none of that slightly-strained merrymaking you sometimes get into over the New Year.

    And then while I was talking to a cute, flirtatious Australian guy, I glanced up, and there was your hideous “Get Your Number” video. TOTALLY DESTROYED the combination of conviviality and aesthetic pleasure (did I mention that the boys at GB had managed to mix me a particularly yummy vodka tonic that go-round?).

    Seriously, Mariah, or Mimi, or whoever you are now, I’m glad for your comeback. It’s horrible to see people suffer in public, and with that suicidal website post and your career tanking and the nervous breakdown…well, I’m no more a fan of your music than I was before, but I’m glad you were able to come up with another album that sold in the gajillions because you clearly needed it to make you feel better.

    Now that you do feel better, can we make the next project not looking like a whore? As another cute, flirtatious guy (this one from New York) remarked when that horrid video played yet again, you’re working the “busted tramp” thing, and it’s so…bad…so very, very bad. It’s a lie that all (or most) gay men are misogynists, but it’s not a lie that some are, and I fear you’ve managed to fall in with a stylist or two who really don’t have your best interests at heart.

    Same with your video director. Next time he says, “Okay, now that you’ve gotten into the shiny dress with the micro-miniskirt and the plunging neckline that exposes your appallingly obvious new rack-inflation job, I want you to perch on the edge of this here sofa with your knees three feet apart,” here’s your response–and I want you to practice this, dear: “LIKE HELL I WILL, BUSTER.”

    You’ll be doing all of us a favor.

    Still kinda feeling icky,

    Sean K.

    2 Responses to “I don’t wanna cry”

    1. She’s a ticking time bomb. It’s not easy being thrown overboard for Thalia. And what was Luis Miguel thinking? And yes, Mimi’s another victim of the snarky gay Mafia: “Oh honey but YES, you look DIVINE (snicker)!”

    2. Sean Kinsell says:

      I knew she was in trouble when that first song and video (“It’s like That, Y’all,” is it called?) were rip-offs of, of all things, Britney’s “I’m a Skank 4 U,” which is not only yucky-poo but also, like, fifty years old. Things haven’t gotten more reassuring since then. Say what you will about Whitney–she’s a princessy bitch, but she OWNS her dysfunctional life. She’s all like, “Look, it’s MY DRUG PROBLEM…I mean, I don’t actually HAVE a drug problem, but if I DID, it would be the MOST FABULOUS CASE OF CONNUBIAL SNOW-BLINDNESS EVER and I’d tell you to shut up about it and EAT ME.” Mariah’s always seemed so needy. Kind of gets you scared on her behalf.

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