Watch this video and tell me we weren't complicit in our own deception.
Come the fuck on, Bridget!
Those deep voices are not coming from those two men and you know it. I think we knew it back then but we wanted to believe in those beautiful, long braids swinging hypnotically around those lovely faces. Blame it on the rain. Blame it on the shallow demands of the music industry. But blame it on us, too. We knew something didn't add up and we didn't care.
Lately, I've been thinking we are almost always complicit in our own deception. We choose to believe what we want to believe. If people didn't do that, Fox News wouldn't have any viewers and douchebags would never convince women to date them or let them in their beds.
I don't watch American Idol but I have watched some of the clips of Mariah Carey and Nicki Minaj sniping at one another and my only observation is this: I imagine Keith Urban calling Nicole Kidman each night and saying, "Crikey! What the hell have I gotten myself into?"*
*Apologies for assuming all Australians say "crikey."
Did you hear? Mad Men returns in April. Here's what I remember about where we left off:
Don Draper had a toothache.
Sally Draper got her period.
Roger Sterling was standing around naked in front of a window.
Joan is officially a hooker.
Megan died in a tragic hang-gliding accident.
I might be wrong about the last one, but it's time for her to go. I like my Don Draper unmarried, day-drunk, and screwing inappropriate women. So get back to it, please.
Last night, my teenage son told me I am lame and I can't dance.
To which I responded thusly:
Happy Friday, friends. I hope you bust out your lame dance moves this weekend.