lou_bega belly fire Today on the radio. Snap! You were such a swing fan...and you had to have that single. God, you were such a loser. That's how the thread started...some scrap of memory of Mambo #5 sitting on the floor in front of the tv in your uncle's basement. It all rushed back to me. The first thing I saw on your face wasn't a smile but that horribly tacky eyebrow piercing. It made me mad...how you HAD to have that piece of metal in your face. Mr. I wanna be a radio personality. You were so desperate to be someone. And the sight of her...oh yes I still remember her. Stephanie. You sneaky little fucker. You wanted me to see her there, your bed all dishevelled, your disgusting magazines all over the place. I wanted to run out of there but my eyes were glued to lou bega in his tacky white suit. It came back to me as the song played on the radio - remember Brad...and then Beverley, my saviour. Remember Value Village as a blur of black curtains; remember Staples for paper; remember blurry neighbourhoods through my tears. Remember the tree in the backyard where I cried and where Brad begged me to stay. Remember her leaving...remember how uncomfortable I made everyone. Remember a silent dinner, remember Brad bragging about Mexico. Remember leaving...and your white socks on the sidewalk. Remember seeing you for the last time but everything coloured red...as my bleeding heart. So I turned the fucking radio off...and remembered I'm in love. 031204 what's it to you? who go blather from