The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.

5.07.2004:

6:22 PM

My wife is going to kill me. But alas, the truth must be known.

I am secretly in love with Kylie Minogue.

Now, this isn't a dirty, nasty animalistic love. It's very innocent and very plutonic, I assure you. For instance, I wouldn't lick her shoes clean or anything. But if she offered to let me clean her pool while she sat and got some sun, I wouldn't say no.

Or like, if she said "Joe, would you drive me around town so that I might shop for a new laptop", I'd do that, so I can be like, "No, Ms. Minogue, you don't want a Dell. You want to stick with the Toshiba." I just want to pour glass after glass of sweetened tea for her. With limes, not lemons, because that's how she likes it.

It's something I can't explain, especially to my wife. She doesn't get it. It's not a lusty thing, not at all. I don't wanna go ravish her body or anything. I don't even think i want to hug her (although I would allow a handshake). I just wanna stand near her and be like, "Ah, Kylie. You are so pleasant to be in the company of."

It's embarassing to admit, because she's all pop-princessey. She's like a 40 year old brittney spears - but dammit, I don't care! she's magnificent! I want to help her try on shoes, maybe be the person that tells her "Oh yes, that's THE look" when we go to the hair salon together - and she could do the same for me. I want kylie minogue to rely upon me.

Perhaps it's odd.

And perhaps you don't understand. But that's okay, as long as Kylie does. And calls me.

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