Basket Case

We are all worms, but I believe I am a glow-worm. -Winston Churchill

Swinging Sundays

Scarlett Johansson c

Image via Wikipedia

Bright and good morning readers,

This morning I’ve already gone out with my Old Man, grabbed Panera and a Starbucks to go, then sat in content along an empty curbside chewing, chewing, slurping and swallowing to some ‘inspirational alternative’ my father picked out. My Sunday mornings have such as become something of a rut, but you know I think I rather enjoy then callusing monotone of waking up and driving down I64 to snatch a bagel and a cup of Thanksgiving Blend (mind you, the Italian Roast will never be my favor). And after all those moments, I am back at the house wrapping up in my scarf from H&M about to jump into my cloth seated Honda once more for a trip out of the country side Equestrian estates.

I do wonder sometimes: those details that so often get missed… Who did write this article in the Courier Journal today? What’s his family like? Where is he spending Thanksgiving this year?

And other broad questions lead me down the road of: Why does not the tab key work in WordPress?

But truly what pinches my skin and peeves me like no other is surely the latter. But again OCD never promised me fulfillment after popping pills even..

So this morning: Turning over what I hope is not to be another Generation-Turn-Table. I was then telling my father this..

I snuck out of Whole Foods after paying for the latest Vanity Fair (not for the purpose of staring at Scarlett..), and telling my mother I would be waiting in the car (if your mother too thinks magazines are of the dark evils, you can relate to my scurrying,)- I flipped through the entertainment filled pages of a Pentagon scare, Scarlett Johansson‘s self absorbed behavior, and what ipad covers would compliment my apple this winter, I came upon the inquiring thought that after waiting for so long for Angelina Jolie‘s face to peel itself off the ‘latest’ addition to Vanity Fair, and holding my $5 back week after week: I waited all that long for a ripping adventure of learning to accept and even love Scarlett’s new scarlet maine and overbearingly acceptable selfish vibe I was being winded with while reading the cover story?

Oh yes: So was the truth. I had paid my money and received what the cover had warned me of: Scarlett trying very hard to show me her breasts, and I in return trying very hard not to admonishingly dwell on the new Generation: the oxymoron of the neo loveliness that comes with having stubbornly negative trait which, in English, usually means you are viewed negatively. But no: in America toady we have flipped the common standard that now, you, me, or even Scarlett Johansson can be viewed as a positively charged aloofness.

I do want to say, in summary of all wordiness that this write up may include: I do enjoy Scarlett’s enriched characters very much, she is a lovely looking young woman, and against Vanity Fair?- I have nothing. Scarlett has worked her way to the top and does deserve to be views the way she would like. Vanity Fair is one of my favorite Magazines and I respect their writers and photographers a lot (especially when it comes to the topic of presenting today’s most famous and well known people: What a daunting task!)

Is my own opinion say something negative of myself? I do want to bring this subject up just to clearify who I am:

I wish to stand out to you as a web blogger who, writing to the web, expect criticism or agreement based on your own opinion of myself. Feel free to share how you feel, but please remember when you point fingers, there are indeed two pointing back are yourselves.

‘There’s blood beneath every layer of skin.’

Alexander McQueen

(For whom, I am a huge fan.)

Cheeks

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