Monday, December 24, 2007

Dear M.I.A., I L.O.V.E you

Your tousled beauty, interlaid with vaguely revolutionary politics (are you, like, fully socialist?) and fly early 90’s girl rapper style make you like the perfect mash up of a person! You are like some tomboy intergalactic beat princess. You are so pretty. You have awesome hair. Will you be my best friend, M.I.A? M.I.A., I wonder if you are funny. I once read an interview with you and I got a little bored. But that doesn’t really mean anything. Can we harvest rhythms together in the beat pastures of the third world sun? I bet you have the dopest room. Can I come over? Maybe we can drop some casio shit and mess with a huge calculator and create a graph on your dad’s computer. Maybe we could get into our PJs and surf microchips through the neon blue tundra together. That sounds fun, right? I mean…or what do you want to do? M.I.A., do you want to stay up late and watch Saturday Night Live with me? Do you want to play Scruples? That weird game for adults where you discuss moral quandaries? No? Me neither. That was a really stupid idea.


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