Dear (insert name here)
Dear Celine Dion
first I am going to start by saying that you are one crazy, fantastic, diva of a thing. You rule, and I am being entirely serious.
I know, I know...it's sort of hip to hate you, but come on, I really can't do that, you make me smile.
I love that you are over dramatic and beat on your chest when you sing, I love that you speak in a thick Canadian accent (which reminds me of my mom) complete with horrible grammar. I love that you are married to some old man named Romaine or Marcoux....or something. I love that you wear ridiculous diamond rings shaped like tigers and leopards, just because you can.
Now I am not going to say that I have fabby taste in music, there are lots of things I like that hipsters around the world can be united behind....but then there is the part of me that loves, with a fiery passion. Bad pop music.
I listen proudly to the Partridge Family, and The Spice Girls, and I do it without that faux sense of ironic entitlement....I do it because it brings me joy.
That is how I feel about you, when I hear you bust out with that overly sentimental crappy song from Titanic....well it never fails to give me the chills, and makes me glad the Leonardo DiCaprio died in that movie, just so this song would exist so that many years later you can sing it on Dancing with The Stars....and I can watch you, tears streaming down my face while I shovel apple pie in my mouth.
thank you Celine, for giving me that moment.
I love you and your huge hair.
(this post is dedicated to you Tara!)