Smooth by Santana Feat. Rob Thomas Vs. Soft, the Texture
Point I would spend a thousand years flogged by brillo pads if it means listening to the sweet sensual tones of Rob Thomas and the Latin inspired guitar of Carlo Santana. Never again would I have to willingly embrace a texture. My human needs would be fulfilled by knowing that World Peace was achieved in 1999, and that no tragic event, like a Presidency or a marriage, could ruin that. 1999 wasn’t just a great year for calendars -- it was the year Rob Thomas reached his career peak, speaking to me through the radio about his “Spanish Harlem Mona Lisa,” while I reached a peak of my own upon hearing those sensual, and ironically rough tones. Everything was right, at least for a while. It seemed, at first, that Julie and I were honestly the perfect pair. She was Blonde, I was not. She had eyes a color different than my own. Every possible thing you could ask for in a couple, so that they appear aesthetically attractive to strangers, was true of the two of us. Besides
her strange genetics, though, the thing I loved most about Julie was the way she seemed to understand. On our second date, she gave me a pillow with Rob’s face sewn into it! It was so soft that I could hardly use it, but at that point who needs to sleep? On our third date she brought me a piece of Carlos. That too was much softer than you’d think, and more for a particularly sweet gesture considering the act put her on 17 no fly lists across the globe. It couldn’t last though, no matter how hard I tried to keep it together. There is no woman, no tangible being whatsoever, whom can ever be as perfect as Rob’s sweet, succulent song-voice, and I knew long before before the Y2K scare that there never would be. The first big blow-up came when Julie tried to cover my records in velvet. She said the needle was going to hurt me, she said the needle would take away the feeling.. But my wife is wrong. Julie is wrong, she has to be. She wore a feather boa and
velvet gown to our wedding; she didn’t tell me it was our wedding. I had, to this point, never actually met her. Who was this woman? It didn’t seem important. Rob had told me how to handle this, Rob and the man behind him, Carlo(s)? They prepared me for her. She was the exact woman my astral guide Rob Thomas was describing, a woman who looked just like the ocean under the moon;Julie was convinced it was destiny, fate, kismet, and other ways to describe a mistake as unavoidable. I myself was convinced that anyone who comes to a broken down hotel on the side of the road in a velvet gown, just to help out a poor man with a jammed up cassette tape of Smooth, deserved to be made a wife. “Perhaps,” I thought, “this is the kind of woman who could break through my hardened exterior and help me soften up. Someone to whom I can give my heart -- someone who will not only accept my love, but in returning it make it real.” Awh, just forget about it.
JUST the TIPS Pray for Paris;
Get a dog
Sell your VHS tapes to interesting children.
Stay awake
Only refer to it as "porno."
pray for the parents Pens
10
NEVER go back to the Vatican Use other people's germs as a sort of armor for your own germs.