Gloriana
Patron Saint Of Smileys
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2009
- Messages
- 949
- MBTI Type
- INFJ
- Enneagram
- 6w5
I'm sitting here with my ESFP partner in crime (mattness) watching a PBS special featuring this bubble gum pop motherf***er David Garrett. Matty is a music teacher and an old school band geek, so if there is anything related to classical music on PBS he will just watch the f**k out of it even if he doesn't like it. He doesn't like this guy, but he has TV control right now and he will not change the channel.
I just left a rant on the rant thread, but I felt the need to exorcise the demons further. Like India.Arie once said "Don't be offended, this is all my opinion, ain't nothing that I'm saying law". If you love him, I respect that. I just ask you to please respect this guy is making me want to tear out my eyeballs and shove them up his f***ing Stradivarius.
It's not so much that he's taking popular contemporary music and selling it as 'amazing creative newness!' just because he's playing violin accompaniment but hearing this slimy jackhole talking is making my bullsh*t detector explode. He's so full of sh*t he makes chemical toilets look like a day spa.
He looks like a cross between David Beckham and Fabio, he dresses like he just bought everything Antonio Banderas was selling off from his 1992 wardrobe on Ebay, and he's sitting there talking to the PBS pledge drive hostess like it's a speed dating session. The blonde, blue-eyed hostess is basically gushing like a school girl listening to this putz drivel on with his disingenuous humility and I swear on sasquatch I'm expecting her nipples to cut right through my television screen.
The faces in the crowd when they cut to the live performances are my favorite right now. Older women who are probably veterans of many Clay Aiken and Josh Groban concerts are getting weepy, and for some reason they keep flashing on pasty-ass couples leaning their heads together with starry eyed looks on their faces. It makes me think no couples in a romantic relationship were allowed admission unless their heads were surgically sewn together at the entrance.
It's like watching a cult worship its leader, they're all 'ooohing' and 'aaaaahing' just because this douche basket is playing 'Hey Jude', and I'm getting diarrhea. I'm getting diarrhea hardcore.
At least I've got Matty.
ME: They're waving their cell phones!!! Do they understand he's not Paul f***king McCartney right now?
MATTY: They don't care baby girl, Beatles songs just make people lose their s**t. It's like scientific fact.
ME: This guy is such a dick.
MATTY: But he's purdy, ain't he?
ME: Kill me with a fork.
I just left a rant on the rant thread, but I felt the need to exorcise the demons further. Like India.Arie once said "Don't be offended, this is all my opinion, ain't nothing that I'm saying law". If you love him, I respect that. I just ask you to please respect this guy is making me want to tear out my eyeballs and shove them up his f***ing Stradivarius.
It's not so much that he's taking popular contemporary music and selling it as 'amazing creative newness!' just because he's playing violin accompaniment but hearing this slimy jackhole talking is making my bullsh*t detector explode. He's so full of sh*t he makes chemical toilets look like a day spa.
He looks like a cross between David Beckham and Fabio, he dresses like he just bought everything Antonio Banderas was selling off from his 1992 wardrobe on Ebay, and he's sitting there talking to the PBS pledge drive hostess like it's a speed dating session. The blonde, blue-eyed hostess is basically gushing like a school girl listening to this putz drivel on with his disingenuous humility and I swear on sasquatch I'm expecting her nipples to cut right through my television screen.
The faces in the crowd when they cut to the live performances are my favorite right now. Older women who are probably veterans of many Clay Aiken and Josh Groban concerts are getting weepy, and for some reason they keep flashing on pasty-ass couples leaning their heads together with starry eyed looks on their faces. It makes me think no couples in a romantic relationship were allowed admission unless their heads were surgically sewn together at the entrance.
It's like watching a cult worship its leader, they're all 'ooohing' and 'aaaaahing' just because this douche basket is playing 'Hey Jude', and I'm getting diarrhea. I'm getting diarrhea hardcore.
At least I've got Matty.
ME: They're waving their cell phones!!! Do they understand he's not Paul f***king McCartney right now?
MATTY: They don't care baby girl, Beatles songs just make people lose their s**t. It's like scientific fact.
ME: This guy is such a dick.
MATTY: But he's purdy, ain't he?
ME: Kill me with a fork.
