Doing the batty bat.

Winehouse, Amy.

I'm not going to open this blog with a backhanded comment referring to this chick's song about rehab, although it may have crossed my mind. To be quite honest I am not exactly sure what the appropriate mood for this post should be. Of course appropriate behavior has never been something I've concerned myself with too much, particularly when it comes to sharing my thoughts here at Exhaling. First and foremost lets just say that I find it slightly upsetting and highly amusing at the same time. I admit I am a huge fan of Amy Winehouse and her ridiculous behavior. This chick is balls to the walls in almost every regard. Let us delve into some of my very favorite Amy Winehouse moments, these are not for the highly sensitive or underage readers, hence the terms you agreed to when making your way into my little world. Hey I've gotta heart, I posted a very nice photo right below here of the winehouse wearing some spanks and lookin like she just stepped off the farm, see? How preeeety and youthful she is! Why that must have been about 20 years before she started picking her face off and walking around smelling a suspect poopcolored hand! YEAAAAHHH, That was only 4 years ago, drum roll please, Winehouse is only 24 yrs old people. 24. Oh now you feel bad and awkward and confused. Let me just sum it up in a nice little package for you. I am positive that you; like many, many others have always wanted to be famous, loved, known, rich, and all of the other things that you think being a celebrity comes with. But here is the sad and absolute truth, fame brings nothing but a whole new set of problems, you think people are all up in your bizzz nass now? Wait till you have 25 dudes trying to snap your photo coming out of Costco with a jumbo pack of asswipe. So here you are famous, loaded, seemingly loved and respected annnnnnd MISERABLE. Your life is no longer your own, you don't get to make your own decisions any more you've got an agent so far up your ass you can see his combover when you brush your capped chiclet teeth. No matter what you say or do it is spun and rewrote until it seems like they must have put Ambien in your bottle of voss while the interview was being conducted by some jealous snide bitch who hates you because your skinnier then her and wearing the new bullshit trendy whatchamacallit that some asshole sent you from some new painfully hip shithole overpriced store and your stylist says you must acknowledge said store in order to receive more crap you don't even want to wear in the first place. But guess what? You don't have a choice. You have an "image" that must be upheld no matter how idiotic and uncharacteristic you feel. So there you have it, your precious fame, which is basically like selling your soul to Beelzebub without the cool showdown at the crossroads. So what to do.. What to do? Your lonely, confused, fatigued, scared, lost... Ahhhh yes, you do drugs. A line here, a joint there to start. Then you realize while on these drugs you no longer care that fame was not even close to what you thought it would be, you don't care that there is nothing left to excite you, you don't care that people only want to date you so they can leech off of your name and talent. All you want is to go back to the life you knew, where you weren't making a bazillion dollars a year, your apartment had mice, you and your friends got together every Thursday night to drink 2 for 1 PBR's and plot world domination tactics to become FFAAAAMMMOOOUUUSSSS!!! You were passionate about life, there was so many things to do! So many people to meet! Someone would surely discover you one of these days and all of your wildest dreams would come true! Wouldn't that be amazing!? Or would it?

Amy Casey