On the off chance that you’re not filling yourself with even more Home Brand Porridge and instead are reading this, then please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’m over you.
I would tweet you this life changer but alas my life is incredibly boring so I really have nothing of interest to say. That puts me in the same bracket as 95% of Twitter users but there you go.
Why just moments ago I was ironing my shirts for work, watching your video hits on one of our local music channels. Mind numbingly boring it was too. The ironing, not your videos.
Anyhoo, it occurred to me, whilst watching a visual selection of your songs to date, that I really fancied the hot pants off you more when you were kissing girls, running hot & cold and waking up in Vegas.
You had that something special about you that is sadly, no longer there. Back then you were all that and a bag of chips, now you know it and that’s not sexy.
I think things started to go downhill in this relationship of ours when you did the Timbaland song and let’s not even get started on the collaboration with those gaylords who can’t even spell ‘303’...thankfully they didn’t play that video today.
Which lead to ripping off the Beach Boys in your collaboration with Snoop.
Now I must admit that you spraying whipped cream from your boobs is a little bit kinky and that yes, lying naked on a bed of candyfloss is very naughty. Stripping down in a hotel room like a teenager is indeed wet dream stuff, but yet, I was more turned on at the thought of pressing my cuffs perfectly.
Where did the magic go KP?
I used to dig your crazy sexy cool mixture of confidence and vulnerability, now you’re just everywhere an all over everything. I used to love your cool, kooky, vintage dress sense too but now its blue hair and shit. I know you’re doing the voice of Smurfette in a movie real soon but that doesn’t mean you have to dress like her.
Sadly it seems as if I’m not the only one. You know your star is fading when your duet with Elmo, a puppet for fucks sake, gets cut from Sesame Street because it’s too raunchy.
So you were wearing a flesh coloured mesh thing, who knew? Mums with less impressive cleavage than yours don’t notice little things like that and they complain real loud.
That said, your piss take of the whole sad saga on Saturday Night Live was pretty damn funny – “Today’s episode is brought to you by the letters Double D and the number 34” - and if I were to be truly honest, a little bit of the old you.
So maybe I’m not over you at all, you sexy thing you.
BTW, I’d iron your hot pants if you asked me too. I would do that for you.
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