Dear Barbara Streisand,
I realize you are a well respected artist on a global scale, but your music does nothing but make my ass twitch. Sometimes, I wonder why you are still filling autotoriums after your third "Farewell Tour." Because of you, I was stuck in traffic for thirty minutes to only travel half a mile after a pilates class. It means money for you, but a nervous breakdown for me since California drivers forget how to drive with the slightest hint of drizzle in the air. You must be doing something right, but I still don't understand why people clog the streets around my apartment to hear you wail, only to possibly catch you on a bad night where you tell them to "Shut the F*ck Up!"
And I thought you were a lady!
Not-so-much-a-fan,
Curly
3 comments:
Testify, sister! Have you ever heard her version of "Jingle Bells?" I'm pretty sure that's the music that plays in Hell.
That's right, Curly. Tell Babs where to stick it.
I'll be bringing some tiny bottles of cheer come December. We'll get our drink on and do the bunny hop with the evangelicals.
I can remember you never were a fan of Babs. Remember having to hear her sing when you were working at the costume shop? Wonderful memories, right?
Love yo mama
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