grapescented's Journal

Is it me or does it seem that Gwen Stefani seems to be tooting her own horn a bit on her new album? Granted, I've only heard her two singles, but it seems she's obsessed with somehow bringing her own wealth and success in her lyrics. Now I'm not saying she's a bad person, sure, she probably donates money all sorts of things, fine, I get that. But when someone sings about what they'd buy if they were wealthy, and they own the things (or in one case, people) they're discussing it seems a bit like a chance to brag and flaunt a bit.

I love flaunting, because sometimes, hell, people just need to show off. But Gwen, everyone ALREADY KNOWS YOU'RE FAMOUS. We already know you have girls to dress up and accessorize every day thanks to your heaps of cash. Now why not sing about, like, donating wool coats to children? Or donating say, a truck of llamas to Heifer International? (www.heifer.org)

Anyway, the wake's over, the funeral's over, and now hopefully I won't have to watch people weep or say "I'm sorry for your loss" over and over again. That's twice this year I've had to hear "I'm sorry for your loss", and no offense to anyone, I know people are "sorry for my loss" and just trying to be nice and everything, but that sentence is perhaps the most generic sentence you can say to a person in mourning. And this person notices it when that's exactly what you say to all the other people you encounter. It sort of ruins the sincerity of the statement.

I can completely understand, I mean, after all, there are always at least 30 people you have to give hugs to at those types of events, but this is just to anyone who has to be sorry for another human's loss: phrase it differently. It makes us feel a bit special, which of course those grieving tend to deny, as we *are* after all supposed to be devoting our time to crying and asking other people for the tissues they stowed away in their purse. But still, we like it.

The thing about Grandmother Melba's funeral was I met a lot of relatives who live in like, shoot, where were they from? I think it was Minnosota, so we'll just go with that. Anyway, so I met several relatives of mine. One actually works in a Maximum Security Prison and told stories about the time a convict had escaped and attached a hook to his arm...his plan was to gut said relative "like a fish." Nice profession there, dude. But apparently it's a cool job because there are nice hours and only the rookies get stuck with the *extremly* violent convicts.

There's also my Grand Uncle Buster, who is going to give me a reprint of Elvis' last album and his report card, as well as many other things he warns me never to sell. There are going to be some things related to Lucille Ball sent to me as well, he said. Granted, he's got the genuine articles and I get the copies, but it's no big deal. If you're willing to give up your genuine Elvis goods (like the ticket stub from when you went to see his last ever concert) then you are no Elvis fan.

Well, I'm off. I have to feed Bianco, bathe, and get my Us Weekly from the mailbox so I have *something* to keep busy with, I'm so very very bored and I have no clue why...

Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: No music, just pure Silence.

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