Friday, August 29, 2008
Carrie Underwood has been taking a lot of crap lately and deservedly so. I mean come on, she has got to be one of the most self absorbed, narcissistic people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She loves herself so much that she cries when she has to go to sleep.
So, if you are Carrie and you take this crap, what do you do? You scream and yell at your manager, agent, publicists and Simon Cowell and tell them to get Michael Phelps' phone number. I mean why not right? Most famous man in the world right now. Then you start texting Michael and leading him on and saying that they should hook up in Nashville when he gets done doing what he is doing. When he agrees, then one of Carrie's people lets the National Enquirer know, who then report it breathlessly.
Please. This is just another put up job in a long line of put up jobs. I think the actual genre kind of jumped the shark at the Lisa Marie/Michael Jackson thing, and it has been moving fairly steadily downhill since. Actually, now that I think a moment, it is a put up job in the sense that Carrie knows it is fake, but Michael might think it is real. So, she is going to have to fake it for awhile. Not that she has a problem doing that.
Let me go out on a limb here. Michael Phelps will find some hottie to date but it will not be Carrie Underwood. Oh, sure she will hang out with him for a bit because she is a fame whore and will stick to him while he is in the spotlight. By about Christmas or when she exhausts all the magazine covers it will be bye bye Michael and back to loving herself to the point where I think she probably has had sex with her mirror.