Could've been you, Should've been me

Baby got interviewed for a newspaper today. I, of course, sat in the sidelines, desperate to start talking about myself, about her, about anything. Baby is famous in ways I can only dream of. Google her and you’ll see, she’s practically Wikipedia material.
I’d love to be an interviewer. I imagine it must be like taking portraits photos. You kind of warm them up a little then step by step strip away their masks till you get down to their naked soul, which you steal and encage – it’s just like falling in love.
I think I will do that, I will interview people. One thing I’ve learned taking so many people’s pictures – they love talking about themselves, and I love them all. Ah, the freedom to love everybody without reserve or incarceration.

Never mind Elvis, here are the bollocks

Everyboby was looking at me on the street today. One person even came up, and stood right in front of me looking into my eyes, smiling. I didn’t know what to do, so I kind of looked friendly and disaffected at the same time, and they backed away. What happened? Am I finally commanding the attention I deserve? Or did I accidentally leave the blinds open last time I masturbated? Either way, I like it.