you got me feelin' emotions

this morning while doing my daily reading of pink is the new blog, i saw a picture of mariah carey walking her dogs in central park. or something. i'm not exactly sure why mariah has to walk her own dogs; from what i heard, she got a pretty hefty prize for leaving her record label. seeing as she has a new album, songs about tina faye or something like that, my guess is that it was a publicity stunt.

that's beside the point. the picture of mariah reminded me that i had a dream about her last night. well, not really about her. i was hanging out at hilary's apartment (not her actual apartment, but an apartment that i knew in the dream to be hers), wildly talking trash about the esteemed ms. carey. i'm not sure exactly what i was saying, but i'm sure it had something to do with being paid to leave her record label and that she's really packed on the pounds since she dropped her nasty crystal meth habit. hearing someone clear her throat, i turned around to find mariah carey herself standing in hilary's kitchen. apparently they're friends? my, how the mighty have fallen.

it wasn't really mariah, though. gone were the tits that you could fit a honey glazed ham between; she had this perfect little muscular body and i proceeded to tell her how great she looked, that i didn't mean all those things i'd just said, and that tv and pictures really don't do her justice.

i've never been a mariah carey fan--be it "emotions"-era mariah, "dreamlover"-era mariah, or today's scary incarnation. so why have a dream with her in it, filling a space that could have easily been filled by a certain passions-cum-deserperate housewives heartthrob? good question.