2 Strep, 2 Strep. . .

yup. this makes more sense now. the random puking sessions. the killer migraines. back aches. the tube of cement in my throat. went to work to tie up all last minute needs for the week b4 vegas this morning and ended up in the doc's office on my way home. yes ma'am, you have strep throat. KEWL! so that means. . . tons of partying in vegas, most likely. ugh.

well. at least i got the remainder of the afternoon to lie in bed. made a red baron (first appetite in days!). laying in my nest of pinks and purples, listening to the new lily allen, "it's not me, it's you," and wow. this shit is off the hook. "alright still" was a decent debut, a pop clogged, tongue in cheek bratty ska collection. "inm, iy" still contains a lot of the same bratty girly nonsense, but it comes off more subtly, mature and 80's synth pop infused. but still, so so smooth.

obvs, the single "the fear" is super polished (unlike this blog), and vampy. but while i initially feared that would be the best from the new record, i was wrong. the ridiculously sugary sweet "fuck you," may be the best track from the record, in which miss allen is innocently crooning over a casio synthed drum track/barber quartet like piano bed, "fuck you, fuck you very very muuuuuch"--man, i wish i could pull off sass like that and get away with it.

the album opener "everyone's at it" is another solid ass track, with synth piano layers galore. "not fair," is the spaghetti western shopping mall anthem of the 21st century, with allen sulking, "oh, it's not fair, and it's really not ok, it's really not ok, it's really not ok, you're supposed to care, but all you do is take, but all you do is take. . ." over a cowboy kickin' bed of loops and percussion. am i supposed to be so open about loving a record that every 17 year old girl would easily enjoy if they weren't so busy watching spencer pratt & heidi montag's next move on reality television? who gives a shit. i'm laying in bed with strep throat, putting off packing my bags for a trip tomorrow and listening to this is actually making me feel immensely better, even if my ramblings aren't making a damned word of sense.

thanks, lily. i don't even care if you skip on the underpants anymore and if you get super trashed, acting like a spoiled little sociallite princess. bc the beatz you just put out are enough for me to ignore your tabloid antics for at least the next year. the song "22," which is about not being 22 anymore though, well, that's just silly. i should write a song called "24" since i'm 25. but i dont think mine would be as catchy. just guessin.

ok, NAP TIME. then its vegas, baby, vegas.