Street poetry is my every day, and I like Meg F. even though she's a biter.

“It has been said that a pretty face is a passport. But it's not, it's a visa, and it runs out fast.”

- Julie Burchill

The boys seem to love this whole Megan situation. She says the f word, sometimes kisses other ladies, and smokes weed! (How this makes her different from most somewhat attractive ladies with fierce eyebrows in major metro areas: unclear. “She is truly, unabashedly EDGY,” everyone says, in Iowa in 1954. But continue to enjoy, gentlemen. I have no problem with this. Buy the ticket, take the ride.)

I like Meg. Here's why:

“Meg says she likes comic books and anime and gaming but come the fuck on. Fronting. Trying too hard.” - ladies (and some dudes) in the comments section of a thousand websites.

“You say you like records and breaks but I don't know, it seems like you're just trying too hard.” - dudes in MySpace messages, to this writer, starting around '05. (Kids, there used to be this thing called “MySpace.” It died.)


Other than her totally biting my lounging-with-records-for-the-camera aesthetic*, I like Meg. I do not care for her physical form that has a lot of fakery and plastic parts, plus she has no hips and no exoticness like the beautiful ladies I take showers with (in my head) Irina and Sarah S, but Meg, like all girls, is an expert at being watched while pretending she doesn't know she's being watched. That's a skill, my dude. She talks a lot about being insecure, and I believe her, and I think it's good if 12-year-old girls believe her (why hello there, Myself in 6th Grade Who Is Super Gawky). People always say her claims of insecurity are BS - there's no way she could be insecure, girl's just trying to seem modest - but these people are usually dudes who think being a girl in life is like a walk in the park on a sunny day with the breeze blowing, people buying you things and putting your Ikea bookshelf together for you just because.
(that's only true like 3 days out of the year)

So other than the pose above (Mark Seliger, Rolling Stone), Meg isn't hurting my feelings. I have to deduct points from her overall score for having plastic bags surgically inserted in her chest and some sort of fat injected into her lips but that is because, you see, I am a hater. And as an expert in posing while looking bored for photos, I can tell you that her right leg side-calf muscle is killing her in that picture up there. Aw Meg. Crouch or stand* with the record; the leg-sprawl is the hardest pose to master! Crouch or stand, sweetie.


PS,
At this point in our relationship, you should know:
1. I take my tea with a lot of sugar and a little milk,
2. It is imfuckingpossible to give me too many compliments about my brain, and
3. I LOVE songs with kids on the hook. And I love songs about pretty girls. Oh look, here come some now:


Dead Man's Bones - “My Body's a Zombie for You,” AKA “Ryan Gosling Can Evidently Make a Big Retarded Banger of a Song; Who Knew.”

mp3.


Tribe - “Electric Relaxation”

mp3.


Ronnie Foster - “Mystic Brew”

mp3.





*

Maggot brain, skinny arms, heels suitable for walking the track.

See I'm not the type of kid to have my biz in the streets.
(But my biz on the Internet is fine, FYI)
Me and Ghetto Music just, you know, relaxing in apt. 302 on a summer day.
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