Elle Magazine pulled Taylor Swift out of 4th period English, bought her a Coke and sat her down at one of the metal benches in the quad to ask her about her love life and about how she turns the notes she writes about boys in her Hello Kitty diary into #1 hit singles. Taylor twirled her hair, chewed on a piece of watermelon BubbleYum and ewwww-ed at Elle’s split ends before telling them that she doesn’t chase after boys and it isn’t her fault that everyone analyzes her songs to find out who they’re about. Yes, Taylor Swift buys houses right next to a dude she’s dated for five seconds and yes, she constantly drops hints about which boyfriend “inspired” which songs, but that’s not called “chasing” or “pandering.” It’s called make smart real estate and business decisions! The 14-year-old trapped in the body of a stretched out Lemon Meringue doll said this to Elle:
On how she doesn’t yell at boyfriends: “I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at an ex-boyfriend. Ever. I’m not a yeller. I’m not a fit thrower. If something is done, it’s done.”
On writing songs about her exes: “To me it’s just writing songs the way I always have. It’s me sitting on my bed feeling pain I didn’t understand, writing a song, and understanding it better. If people want to dissect the lyrics, that’s their right, but it’s all coming from the exact same place as where I started. It’s just something I do to feel better.”
On how she’s not a boy chaser: “I’m sure if I looked up the latest Google Alerts rumor it would say I’m chasing somebody who doesn’t like me as much as I like him – people love that angle on me. They’re like “Oh Taylor, coming on too strong again, chasing boys. I never chase boys. They don’t like it!”
Taylor Swift not a fit thrower? I bet if you asked one of the stuffed animals who hangs out on the net in the corner of her bedroom, it’ll tell you that she has been known to throw a hissy fit on her strawberry rug when her Snoopy Sno-Cone machine stops working. And of course Taylor Swift doesn’t chase boys. She just sneaks into their room, crawls into their bed and stares at them until they wake up, get spooked and promise to go on a date with her if she stops staring at them. Or she just gets her publicist to chase after them for her.
And only a trick with a 14-year-old brain would say some shit like, “I don’t chase boys! They don’t like it!” Bitch, stop. When you’re grown, you don’t give a shit anymore. You’ll ask a dude out and you will chase a dude as long as you get some good dick out of it. I’ve gotten on a Greyhound bus for some dick and the dude even told me, “Yeah, you can come over, but you can’t stay the night.” You know you’re not above “chasing a dude” when you get on a 3 hour bus ride for some 10 second dick. (“Michael, that’s not called ‘chasing dudes.’ That’s called being a desperate slut with no dignity.” – you “You know, I like the way you say it better.” – me)