candor (candor) wrote,
candor
candor

John Cusack, eat your heart out

the anonymous comment can be so amusing when it is a parody of itself (would it be a pity if the commenter doesn't know it though?... that is the existential question of the day)... in the meantime, I thank you fine folk who travel the VARB (and this place doesn't even have a link or anything) to rate this candor well for spreading your joy and positivity... you make this world a better place...

if you don't know what I am talking about, then never mind (or just ask and I'll attempt an explanation if I can remember myself)... yes, it's true, I love it when a comment sums up everything in a few words... and I love it even more when I do it for myself, so be it a fine madness or a well balanced perspective, it's a delight to be amongst you when I am here...

such an ego, oy...

I shall confess... I purchased my first magazine in years today... it was pure impulse shopping and totally wish-driven... lust played a strong-bold role, as did the ever-present and all-powerful romantic foolishness of the hopelessly hopeful believer in fairy tales who lives inside my heart... yes, it was the May 2006 copy of Allure with Libbo's #1 visual fantasy on the cover (oh, I hear you laughing, but do you hear me laughing even cuterer?)...

did you know that 26% of women reported getting sunburned last summer?... yes, but what readers really want to know is how many of them had no tan lines!?... I am obviously in the wrong place... this is the babbling fool who goes by some other name reporting to you from this journal, obviously a case of mistaken identity... after all, this is supposed to be more of my serious side... just look back at the previous few years of profoundly touching and intimate entries... whatever became of me?...

allure... I give you page 172 and ask the obvious question, "wouldn't you like to be a headrest too?... yes, superficiality right here in the depths of the journal candor... can it be that I've been away too long?... is this a guest post by me evil twin sister posting as my twin brother who is caught up in the most hysterical identity crisis of the century?...

it's a young century, but still, the millennium is over for those who have died already... I just don't feel like making it make any sense to anyone today, so be whatever it'll be, it's amusing me... and as I said somewhere else at some other time, thought recently, I a existential, so sue me...

hey, it was funny at the time... could have been the drugs... or the company... everything is funnier in the right company... but personally, I don't recall a time when I was quite so frivolous here in this here journal, ya falla?... it must be those eyes... those lips... the freaking fantastic air-brushing... I think everyone should have professionally air-brushed pictures to put on the internet... then we could all fantasize about each other and never have to deal with reality again...

apparently I may have been left alone too lone in the sun and spoiled myself... or soiled myself, it's not always easy to tell when all you want to do is kiss a goll darn magazine cover... pathetic, perhaps, but you are missing out on something grand in this life if you don't have these sort of sordid fantasies from time to time...

and live to tell about it...

meanwhile, I returned from work quite recently and found fourteen hours had passed, so I stopped at the local Chinese buffet to chow down on some chow mein and shrimp when all of a sudden I got the great idea to stop at the local SuperSaver next door for some of Dove's Unconditional Chocolate ice cream which is my lastest oral fling and upon standing in the check out line who should I bump into if not Meg Ryan...

well flibber my gibbits...

so some hours later I rushed home to tell you all about it and that's all I'm gonna tell because, after all, the tabloids have to do some work on their own... and anyone even thinking of telling me to get serious ought to have their head examined because serious could not even begin to compare with the euphoria I am feeling right now...

bliss out, my homeys...

homina homina, even... yes, so this is the candorama man (or the candoramen noodly appendage) telling you to take heed when the great bowl of spaghetti in the sky rises once again to ascend to meatball heaven... no offend to the other spaghetti monster or even Christians, there's room in my melting pot for every sort of postulator and drool, be the friend, fanatic, faker or fool... surely you can groove on a little good gruel (and please don't call me shirley because I am so not your tool)...

no, I am Meg Ryan's tool... and in this Special Issue we can get a better body and be thinner, tighter, leaner in 6 weeks flat... and personally (and this is just personal preference, mind you, not any sort of personal slight of hand to the breastplate), I would much perfer a flat chested beauty to a fat chested bimbo, any day... and just wait till you see my hair and makeup preview (somebody wanna come over and do my hair?)...

well I've certainly rambled on here way longer than usual for this pion of decourum and you've been a lovely audience (and I'd like to take you home with me, I'd love to take you home), so it's time to let Groucho get on with the show...

be there or be a cubit...
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