Someone sent me an email yesterday and it made me laugh for a long time because of its brilliance which makes it even worse that I forgot to take down your name – I’m sorry. This was the observation:
Mimi, as you know, because it’s basically law now, has taken over Christmas. And now Taylor? Taylor dominates Independence Day. We know it’s going to be several days of revelry. We know that the guest list in and of itself will be speculated over and studied. We know there will be a coordinated social media drop when it’s over. Now there’s even a hashtag. Taylor Swift is trying to claim the Fourth of July. Maybe she’s already claimed the Fourth of July.
And she thinks of everything!
You’ve seen the waterslide, the coordinated onesies and swimwear, and the karaoke and the games and the cupcakes and the (probably) personalised towels and even this:
At some point during #Taymerica, Taylor had the time to congratulate her friend Abigail on her recent engagement AND, so as not to leave him out, Ed Sheeran on having a girlfriend for a year. With professional made banners professionally installed in one of the 88 rooms in the house.
She thinks of everything!
And it’s exhausting to me, just watching it all unfold on Instagram. Would it be exhausting to experience it in person? Or be the recipient of it? Or am I just a f-cking misanthrope?
Sarah and I were texting back and forth yesterday about what it would be like to be at #Taymerica. Sarah thinks she would struggle with the “enforced merriment”. And then she was like, what if you have really bad cramps and don’t feel well and just want to stay in bed? Would you be told to leave?
Nope. She would bring the cupcakes and the microphones and the tissues to your room with chicken noodle soup flown in from (insert name of top chef of chicken noodle soup) specially prepared at her request to make you feel better. Because…again… she thinks of everything! And I’d be the dick to, instead of being appreciative, secretly inside resent her for it because on top of having my period, I just don’t have enough gratefulness to spare to not worry that somehow I have to keep up! It’s like the Mommy Wars of Friendship. And we all lose.