*Transferred this blog because it had no relevance whatsoever to my Sevilla blog, minus the fact I wrote it in Sevilla.
Today, I am in the reflective mood. It's raining in Sevilla, so I am confined to my room, a smaller-than-Hinton-James yellow cell, where all I can do is think about my life. And it's about to get reeeal deep, people. (That's what he said). You know how you really love someone, and then they just go and change on you, seemingly overnight? Like, you appreciate someone for who they are as a person or artist, for their talent and shining personality, and then they go and get all attractive, famous, and douche-y on you?
That's right. Today, I have a longing in my heart to bring back the semi-fat John Mayer.
Okay, really... John wasn't really fat, persay. And it's not really his physique that I miss. I miss the old John Mayer who wasn't in the tabloids... who wasn't into himself... and who didn't date the most annoying women in Hollywood.
Some of you might be jumping to his defense, saying that I am just a jealous superfan who has simply run out of pins for my Jessica Simpson & Jennifer Aniston voodoo dolls. And while that may be true, it's more than that. I guess I just miss that loco side of John Mayer, who used to do shit like this:
Or that time he had a hilarious TV show. That was really the height of fat John Mayer. He was funny, a little off, and definitely not a Hollywood sell-out.
Sure, the music's getting better and better. I am already boning over the samples of his new CD that he's slowly putting up on his blog. And I will probably feel really lame about writing this later.
But just because you get skinny and stuff, doesn't mean you have to become a tool. Wise up, John. Really.
But, luckily for John, this doesn't mean I'll stop throwing my panties up on stage at his concerts. I want you, baby. And so do my Spanx...