I'm still in shock. My lovely George Michael has, say it ain't so, DIED! A part of me has died as well.
This man, mmmmmmmmm, he could sing, he could move, and he was gorgeous. The Generation X equivalent of Elvis. And, in a similar fashion to the King, he did get a bit pudgy towards the end and, well, there could have been some drugs implicated, but, yeah, at their primes they could make the ladies swoon. Of course, the Boomers made a huge deal about their beautiful crooner. But we enjoyed ours without having to make him everything. But, he was everything. Everything smart, fun, emotional, and straddling the friendly/sexy line perfectly for a teen like me.
Yes, I miss Prince and his funkiness. Yes, Princess Leah was my style icon for a summer there. But they weren't MINE like George was mine. Perhaps there has always been a part of me that like the gay ones, even before they knew it, never mind. There will never be another. He was an angel - an imperfect angel - but as close to perfect as is possible to be, at least for me. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
I have crooked teeth from my parents and a wacky arm from a stroke. My daughter describes me as funny and smart, while she describes the other Linda from Mommy and Me as pretty and nice. So, I'm not pretty nor nice. I love the French people, French language (I'm fluent), French food, culture, architecture... In short, all of France! I'll read anything in front of me. I know more about middle school math than, well, anyone, INCLUDING my middle school math teacher husband (let's see if he reads this). I'm not happy if I'm not painting something.