last night i had a vision. it was one of those visions that i could clearly recall after my recovery from drowning over the purgatory of dream and nightmare. no. it was nothing like one of those apocalyptic visions i had before. it was more disturbing, postmodern, and devastating to the health of the mind.
i saw britney spears and paris hilton making out in a steamy parking lot. yes. they were engaged in a tongue fight; a tongue fight so intense that the strands of their blonde crowns as the queens of controversy and fame were tangled in knots as an accent to their unison. their sweat swims in the undulating waves of their bodies as one breathes the breath of the other. the valleys of their chest bang each other as if rocked by a high intensity tremor.
it was steamy. don’t ask me for details. it was disturbing; the copulation of the material girls, the consummation of two negative forces, the end of the world. it must be a sign. who knows. this blog entry might prevent that to happen in the future.
and oh, britney would tell paris “i love you baby” whenever she found the chance.
now pardon me if ever you hear me singing this song all week long:
“and oh, my dreams, it's never quite as it seems,
never quite as it seems.”