Monday, September 13, 2010

An Open Letter to Taylor Swift

Girl. Really. You are not a fairy princess. You are not a precious little lamb. You are not a special snowflake. Stop it. Sure, the blonde curly hair and the country songs about sparkly pickup trucks and sparkly ponies and sparkly apple pie was all well and good when you were fifteen, but how old are you?

Wikipedia says you're twenty, which is my age. Now, I had princess phase like anyone else but I grew out of it and started having conversations about things other than prom dresses and boys and how awesome my daddy is.

I suspect, Taylor, that you would get eaten alive in the world of most twenty-year-olds. I suspect you've never thrown up last night's tequila at a baby shower. So props for that, because it's not fun. But I also bet you've never gone illicitly night swimming in the university pool at two in the morning, or spent seven hours on a Greyhound talking to a woman you're pretty sure is a crack dealer, or come close to beating my kegstand time, or done quite a few other things that I could list here but won't because it's come to my attention that my mom reads my blog. Point is, Tay Tay, non-princesses have more fun.

I'm not suggesting you make a sex tape, or start flashing your vag at the paparazzi everytime you get out of car. I understand that the sweet little country princess thing is your schtick. You gotta get a gimmick, and I'm sure you thank God every day that you did because otherwise you'd just be an awkward, frizzy haired girl who's a music theater major at a community college. Last night, though, your gimmick took another step away from "naive but cute" and towards "bewildering and smug". Whoever runs the celebrity self-congratulation fest called the VMAs decided that it would be dramatic to let you sing your song "I Forgive You Kanye Because You're Sad and Immature and I'm a Fairy Princess". It was bad. Like, really bad. (Lyrics aside, the girl can't sing. Don't get me wrong, I love to drunkenly yell-sing "You Belong With Me" as much as the next female college student, but I want that shit produced within an inch of its life.) It's officially time to consider a new gimmick, Taylor. Also, give Kanye a break. All he wants is a simple Persian rug with cherub imagery. Is that really too much to ask?


  1. It's possible that if your mom reads your blog she deserves what she gets.

  2. I know what you mean about the parents thing, I refuse to link them to Alert the Audience. My uncle, who's on Facebook, found it though. He's a construction foreman and apparently he thinks I swear too much.