Now that I have straitened out my priorities, I now realize three things:
1.) The Entertainment network is trash. If you choose to 'Keep up with the Kardashians' or see who was arrested by the 'Fashion Police', you are wasting all of your time. 2.) The Celebrities that get mad verbally and physically at invasive paparazzi are the normal ones. 3.) By 5pm, all watchers of the Entertainment network will know every single detail of my life.
Blake sat on the couch with his arms cupped around his face. His publicist was tapping her heels on the ground- she watched the TV screen and penned down every detail announced on the 'Blake Watch' special.
MORE BREAKING NEWS FROM THE STEAK LOVE STORY! ,scrolled the bottom of the TV screen in blinding red font. I could sense that another bogus lie was getting ready to be told to the thousands of girls (within the age range of 10-18) watching.
"WOW! This is just shocking! Thank you, 'Ceelya B. from California' for sending in these shocking images of Stella Florence on the beach last year! If you look at her stomach closely, it looks as if she has a romantic tattoo of a boys name above her revealing, striped bikini bottom! Could she be using Blake just to get some fame of her own?"
On the screen flashed grainy pictures of a random girl strutting on the beach. Given the extremely pixelated image, I could make out a girl with brown-red hair and pale skin. If the entertainment network was going to make up false accusations about me, at least they could pick a girl with the same hair color! I couldn't help but look at Blake- he seemed to be mortified at the pictures of the skanky girl frolicking around the beach in a skimpy bathing suit.
"This dramatic story has so many twists and turns- just like a mountainside road." ,spoke a new male anchor off of the TV. Nice simile, I thought to myself. You never would think liking kosher pickles, going to a concert after-party, or sitting on a hotel balcony with a boy would be concidered a 'twist' or 'turn' on a mountainside road.
As the camera switched angles, he opened his mouth to continue with some more nonsense:
"For those of you that have just tuned into the tragic story, here's a time line of events and facts you MUST know in the 'Steak' story:
First- Three days ago, there apparently was a major public fight between Blake and his now ex-girlfriend, Tiffany.
Second- Blake went in cognito until his concert two days later.
Third- The after-concert party was the first time Stella Florence got all caught up in the public spotlight. During the party, we expect that Blake lured Stella seductively into his hotel suite. There they were caught by paparazzi on the balcony. Fourth- We now have our hands on some rare Stella Florence pre-Blake pictures. Above her bikini bottom is a tattoo of a mystery mans name!"
It was now true that America cares more about watching a news segment with fake pictures of me in a bikini- rather than caring about the actual problems like debt, the jobless, and poverty! You know, even watching birds or staring in a mirror was more important than watching the 'Stella and Blake' story or 'Blake Watch'.
"Do you really have one?" asked Blake. His hand was covering his mouth so his question came out muffled.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, while imitating Blake's British voice and the whole hand-over-mouth-to-ask-a-question ordeal.
"You know, the tattoo. Do you really have one?" he avoided all eye- contact with me. I suppose the lack of eye contact was because the alleged "tattoo" was right above my crotch.
I quickly conjured up a sarcastic story in my head and proceeded to tell it to Blake,
"Yeah, this one time, I went on vacation in Tahiti. I met this celebrity in the local grocery store and we kept running into each other. He seductively lured me into his life. We eventually fell in love and we both have matching tattoos above our crotches now."
The look on Blakes face was priceless. His eyes opened up in shock while the lower half of his (well sculpted-if I must say) jaw jolted out. I probably would have had the same reaction- the idea of matching crotch tattoos sounds pretty vulgar. It took him a couple minutes of pure thinking to realize that this story was extremely similar to ours. He pulled his jaw back and moved his lips to a smirk.
"So that picture is fake?"
"Good." "Why is that good?"
"Well for starters, you are pretty beaut- I mean...natural. I think a tattoo of some other guys name would just ruin it for me." "Who says I wanted to impress you?"
The tan from Those summers I spent surfing sorta helped shield the red that flooded my cheeks when he was (about) to call me beautiful. Even if Charlie Sheen called me beautiful, I would still blush...maybe...okay, probably not.....yeah, I would just be pretty freaked out. Maybe Blake was going to call me a beautician; the world will never know.