Ode to Britney

I’m totally buggin’, and I’ve broken three nails,
As if I drank the strengthener instead of triple-coating,
I always seem to be doing the wails,
And you never seem to stop gloating,
Look, I’m not totally green-eyed,
But you’re living off your fab voice,
And now you’re stuck on the back of my door,
You seemed so sweet and innocent, but you lied,
Your stickly thin bod is really noice,
But what you had coming I never saw.

Another tear falls as I see another one of your clips,
As I watch my legs begin to ache,
To must have connectable hips,
The feeling of dying I cannot shake,
It would be so easy to turn the screen off now,
Make you go away and let me ease,
If I make everything go dark I can sleep,
You really seem like a cow,
The remote I begin to seize,
But I cannot press the button and hear the beep.

I cannot make you shut up,
I cannot hear myself think,
Listening to the kickin’ beat, my hand form a cup,
I begin to sway and dance and then sink,
When I am your age, I won’t look half as good,
I will either look like grandma or totally fat,
Unlike some I don’t have a make-up team,
I won’t have beauty throughout the ages, no one could,
Everyone else turns out pale and a rat,
Who knows what tomorrow will beam.

I could sing to you, well along with you,
Not by a microphone or karaoke neither,
I could write my own lyrics too,
Although it may be a little retarded and confusing either,
I’ll still sing like a total star,
Though we both know you got where you are by flashing your assets,
I still decide you are my idol,
Though you drive a totally hot car,
And I can only afford cassettes,
In front of my mirror I think of you at your finest and I model.

Ode to Britney
O Britney, what a mess you’ve made,
First one wedding, then another,
And didn’t I hear you say ‘until marriage I’d get laid’,
And now you’ve become a mother,
Little Preston, what a life you will have,
This must have been the sweetest feeling,
A baby to carry forever,
Another thing God gave,
Once more there is a reason for the monster inside of me to leave me kneeling,
When you know what you do to me will be never.

Some more I listen, for the hundredth time round,
I have been in love with the fact that baby, I can hit you one more time,
But if I could ever have the luxury of once hearing the punching sound,
As I listen to your rhymes, I begin to mime,
And it happens again, I break out into a stylin’ dance,
But unlike you, no one will ever see or copy me,
I will just be the weirdo who embarrasses herself,
At the TV I start to glance,
You never have to know of how these feelings make me be,
The highest note you let out, and my pitch kills itself.

You weren’t meant for this pauper’s life,
People scrapping up their coins to buy your album doesn’t get you down,
There was probably someone gorgeous like you back in the old days, another wife,
But you have to admit you have been acting like a clown,
Who could forget Madonna?
Or your annulment after a couple of hours,
And the fact that you ever dated a boy band member,
Your magic sends me to Luna,
Coping your dance moves, I’m so glad you’ve allows,
I wonder if you are touring in November.

I am glad I am still watching, I begin to realise,
Talent, you truly are,
But I will never measure up to your size,
Who else could get their leg up that high without leaving a scar?
Famous you are, like Marilyn Munroe,
I’m no longer buggin’ about it, on this Mon.,
You totally deserve to be where you’re at,
I’m sure for years to come your songs will be heard, so,
‘Oops, I did it again’ could be the anthem of our generation,
To your o-so-sweet tune, do I keep listening, or fall asleep on the mat?

Othello

Othello
The Gangster of Venice

Act 5, Scene 2

Desdemona Who’s creepin’ in my crib? Othello?
Othello Yo, it’s me Desdemona.
Desdemona You gonna hop into bed, my gangsta? Give me some a lovin’?
Othello Have you said your prayers, baby?
Desdemona Yeah bra.
Othello Any crimes you be keepin’ in y’all lil’ head up there, you ask God to forgive y’all. Straight up, yo!
Desdemona What you talkin’?
Othello Just do it biatch!
Desdemona Why you trippin’? Who you tryin’ to kill?
Othello You ho’?
Desdemona Oh lordy, lordy. I got me some prayin’ tonight.
Othello Sure do.
Desdemona Whatev’, you ain’t turnin’ my lights out tonight, oh no, hell no!
Othello Boo-yah!
Desdemona You some kinda freaky,
You crazy brother but you roll on.
Wassup with you fool, I’m wiggin’ out when your just a dick.
Othello You just think about the shit you been up to.
Desdemona Yeah, lovin’ your ass!
Othello You goin’ down bitch!
Desdemona What kind of foolishness?
Hello no? You gonna murder me for love?
That passion.
Othello Shut ya mouth.
Desdemona I will, but what got y’all twisted up in the game?
Othello You gave my damn handkerchief to that white-boy Cassio.
Desdemona What you talkin’? You get him over here and he’ll tell you your on crack.
Othello Hey you ‘bout to die bitch.
Watch your mouth.
Desdemona Oi! I ain’t dead yet!
Othello Right now you’re not. So you better ‘fess up.
You are gonna die.
Desdemona Oh lordy, have mercy on me!
Othello Amen Sista!
Desdemona You too, crackhead! What you on?
I’m wit’ chu, Not that white-boy. I never gave him no handkerchief.
Othello Woman, I saw the damn thing in his hand! It murdered me when I saw him with the handkerchief.
Desdemona that fool probably stole the damn handkerchief. Get him over here, and he’ll tell y’all.
Othello He already ‘fessed up.
Desdemona What the?
Othello He said he’s been getting all up in that y’all.
Desdemona Me and him? Hunny, pa-lease.
Othello He said it.
Desdemona No he wouldn’t.
Othello Not no more. That shorty’s dead.
Iago cut the lights on that punk.
Desdemona He’s dead?
Othello Revenge is sweet. I have the stomach for it.
Desdemona Nope, he betrayed.
And don’t think you gonna be getting’ wit’ this tonight.
Othello Out, ho’! Don’t be sobbin’ in my face.
Desdemona All right. I be leavin’ that way I not be killlin’.
Othello On the ground slut!
Desdemona What about tomorrow night?
Let’s get jiggy with it.
Othello Feel the pain bitch!
Desdemona Half an hour? Just a quickie?
Othello I’m done, there ain’t no breaks.
Desdemona Now I’ll say my prayers, Mac Daddy.
Othello You just got served.
[busts a cap in her ass]

Being Emmierose

Hello Out There!

So, I am an aspiring writer. So expect a lot of random short stories, poetry, notes & other types of tig-bits. For anyone who knows me in the real world: yes I am back on writing. Taken two and a half years, but I am back to my true love.

I am a 21 year old trying to make it on my own. Well not exactly on my own now. I have my beautiful Brody! My Maltese X Shitzu puppy, now 13 weeks old. Another expectation you should hold is a thawhacking of updates on him. Like: it is so hard to toilet train a puppy when its 3 degrees celcius outside. Brrrrrr!

I am a totally Aussie. Oi, Oi, Oi! I love my meat pies, especially with a spiral of tomato sauce on top. In fact I am chowing down on one as we speak. XD me so happy!

I am a facebook addict. I am quiet sober and loud drunk. I don't, well can't, sing. I love to dance, and I love a man who knows all the right moves. I love to create art. I am a big believer in keeping family close. And am happiest when find friends who seem like family.

I will post again soon.

All my love,
emmierose
xoxo

Behind Closed Doors

“It’s just not working out with Chloe,” Raymond sighed in exasperation, running his masculine-manicured fingers through his mod hair cut.

“What if we drop the h out of her name?” Jennifer piped up; shouting her idea like it was the cure for cancer. “C-l-o-e looks more exotic and alluring.”

“No, we said before we would stick with C-h-l-o-e because it’s originally French,” Tom mumbled, reclining on his wheelie-chair with his legs sprawled on the oval conference table they were all posted around. “Don’t you remember the ad campaign with all the berets?”

“Oh yeah,” Jennifer sulked, sinking in her chair like a deflating balloon.

The conference room was silent as they all sat in varying odd positions. Raymond paced the room, hurried in his thinking. His hands had a free gym membership as they powered threw the workout of repeatedly going through his hair.

“Well, she’s blonde…” Oliver began to think out loud. “…What if we made her a brunette. It worked for Nicky Hilton.”

Raymond tightly closed his eyes, counted on, two, three, and re-opened them with a feeling of defeat. “Look people, Stephen here is still asleep,” Raymond pointed out, indicating to the dozing team member with his head on the table. “When he wakes up after one of your ideas… then it is a good one.”

Oliver, tired and getting increasingly agitated, leapt off his chair, and with a swiftness of his feet, rounded to Stephen’s location and lowered himself to his colleague’s ear and bellowed, “New hair-cut!”

With tremendous fright, Stephen jolted up unaware why he had new hair-cut ringing in his ear.

As the twitching Oliver began making his way back to his high, leather wheelie-chair, he muttered, “That good enough, Raymond?”

Raymond flopped down on his own designer-comfort chair, wallowing in the overwhelming failure that was the crux of this meeting; to turn around a starlet that had run out of her minutes left in the spotlight.

“Come on, Jen, you’re the only female on this team,” Tom sighed.

“So?” Jennifer scoffed. “What are you implying, sexist?”

“I’m just saying you should have some ideas. Chloe’s female, you’re female,” Tom squinted trying to justify his comparison.

“I’m sorry, just because I share the same gender as the nit-wit, does not give me more ideas than anybody else,” Jennifer huffed, thoughts running through her head of the ignorance of the male species.

Oliver joined in on Tom’s line of thinking, “But couldn’t you tap into the female psyche? Maybe we could make Chloe someone for women to feel they can relate to.”

Jennifer began shaking her head. “No, as a woman I find women who try to do that as fake. That never sells.”

Tom began groaning like he was in pain. “Well than how can we sell her?”

“Well, what if we make her anorexic? It made people able to tell the Olsen twins apart, and also gave Lindsay Lohan another storyline… of course until the cocaine,” Jennifer contemplated. “Should she spend a few days in gaol? Worked for Paris, she’s got more job offers now, and her “God” line worked well too.”

“I dunno. Do we want to be that dramatic with Chloe?” Tom asked uneasily.

“Uh oh, Stephen’s asleep again,” Oliver laughed.

“What do you expect? This chick sucks,” Tom said shaking his head.

“Maybe we should just get rid of her,” Raymond said flatly.

The room went silent.

“But it did take us a while to find another girl when we lost Tiffany,” Jennifer whispered.

Oliver stood up. “I say we just get her down here, play around with her look. My team is here, raring to go; they’ve been on call for the last six hours we’ve been stuck here talking about this dead-beat chick. Once we look at her again we might be able to come up with some slogans or something that might be able to get people noticing her again.”

They all looked at Raymond. Silence.

“It can’t hurt…” Tom whispered.

Raymond shrugged. “Let’s take a look.”

“Yes,” Oliver cheered. He began dialling on his mobile phone, then placed it to his ear, “Esmeralda, we’re on.”

Moments later, three tall, slender, fashionable women with techni-coloured bobs strutted into the conference room, stopping with catwalk-worthy poses. They appeared to be the stylist equivalent of Charlie’s Angels as they stood next to each other, one with hair brush in hand, one with hair straightener and the other with a can of hair mousse in an action position.

“Where is she?” Esmeralda, the “angel” in the front, asked with an unmovable expression.

“We’re calling her down at this very moment,” Oliver replied, walking over to the women and kissing Esmeralda on both cheeks. “Esmeralda. Sorry to keep you and the girls waiting so long. I have been brick-walled for a while.”

“Perfectly all right,” Esmeralda flicked her tightly fixed do and handed Oliver over the hair straightener. “We are here to do a job, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Great,” Tom grinned, hoping for anything that could get them out off this mess they were swamped in.

Two burly security guards walked into the conference room, and then between them emerged Chloe.

“Chloe!” Tom exclaimed, so excited at the prospect that maybe, just hopefully, Oliver’s stylist team would be able to change her into something marketable.

Oliver rushed over to Chloe, grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards his stylists.

“Is Stephen ok?” Chloe asked concernedly.

Oliver stopped dead in his tracks, let go off Chloe and turned around. He marched over to Stephen, whose head was flat on the table, and slapped him over the head. Stephen jolted back up while Oliver was walking back to Chloe. As Chloe was handed over to the stylists, Raymond planted a strong cup of caffeine in front of Stephen.

“I was thinking something short and dark,” Oliver proclaimed, looking into a mirror as he stood behind Chloe.

“How about this,” one of the stylist with an electric-blue bob said, putting her hair up against the wanna-be superstar’s.

“Or this,” the other stylist beside Chloe said putting her bright orange hair next to her.

“Oliver, remember at the beginning when we did this I said I liked my long curls, and I’ve never been anything other than a blonde,” Chloe said timidly.

“Don’t talk; you’ll ruin the illusion,” Oliver said rushedly like his tongue was in a race with his mouth.

“Here Chloe,” Esmeralda started, running her hands through her hair. “This is the colour Oliver wants for your hair, a rich burgundy. But I took this idea with the fact you like your blonde, and so I have put blonde underneath,” she told, showing the bottom half of her hair as a platinum blonde. “And if we just twist your hair back like this, we can show you as a new you, but it can not completely cove up your original self.”

Chloe stared at the twisted colours in Esmeralda’s hair. “Umm, I don’t know. It’s very dark.”

“Well, if she likes her long curls,” the stylist with the electric-blue hair began, “we should keep them and die them jet-black.”

“And give her a super-dark tan,” the orange-haired stylist added.

“The new Christina Aguilera,” Esmeralda sighed happily.

“I’m not…” Chloe started, but was cut off.

She was cut off by Jennifer, who leapt off her chair and began marching towards Chloe and the stylists, “Who’s idea was it to give this chic willpower and make her think she has the right to be talking? Shut up Chloe!” Jennifer barked.

“Whoa, Jen settle,” Tom said, chasing Jennifer and grabbing her shoulders.

“Ok,” Oliver let out a deep breath. “Obviously style is getting everyone on edge. Tom, Jen, start splashing some ideas about.”

“I dunno,” Jennifer shrugged. “She needs an addiction. Heroin would probably work the best because it’s what got Nicole Ritchie famous.”

Oliver looked at Chloe’s chest, and called out, “Boob job.”

“Why does everything we come up with have to be so unattractive?” Tom huffed. “Don’t you remember we brought Chloe out, fresh-faced, to be something good to aspire to,” Tom said, playing with Chloe’s long hair.

“Hello!” Jennifer started getting aggressive again. “Hasn’t it gotten through you’re thick head that that doesn’t work! That’s why we’re here; good doesn’t sell.”

“Stop arguing, it’s a lost cause,” Raymond piped up.

Chloe turned around from the mirror, unable to keep her cool manner, and said angrily “And you, Raymond, you are meant to be my manager. I haven’t seen you manage a thing in months.”

“I didn’t produce you to think, chic,” Raymond replied flatly.
Raymond then looked back, sickened, “Oh my god, someone oil her up, she’s twitching again.”