Effluent Pools and Affluent So-Called Celebs

 I'm trying to get healthier. I'm in reasonable shape, but I'm trying to improve. Today, in resolute virtue, I attended the local swimming pool with a view to getting in thirty minutes worth of laps. I swim in the indoor heated pool because I am first and foremost a massive sook and can't bear the thought of getting cold in the outdoor pool. Secondly, I have the complexion of my Irish forebears and the thought of the sun (despite my slavish and heavy-handed application of sunscreen) causes me to combust and disintegrate like a vampire who has also had the misfortune to cop some ultra violet rays. Anyway, I was enjoying my swim but my planned session was truncated by an attendant who ordered everybody out because someone had blown chunks in the pool. Fair enough. It's gross enough swimming by a floating used band-aid, but the thought of swimming into a pod of regurgitated carrot cubes, all afloat on the watery surface, is too ghastly to contemplate. 

Also ghastly is the stunt pulled by Kanye West and his wife - well, I think she's he's wife, but she might also be a remote-controlled anthromorphic plaything of the kind not readily available at K-Mart (it's the withdrawn catatonic expression that makes me wonder). The story has clogged up my newsfeed like a turd that won't flush. All I see is pictures of Bianca Censori wearing a vacant expression, but the expression she wears is still more substantial than the practically invisible garment she has on. You can't call it diaphanous - seriously, it makes diaphanous looks like a suit of armor. 

Honestly, what the actual fuck is wrong with these people? Is it a desperate need for attention to compensate for an abysmal lack of talent (come on, you heard West slaughtering Bohemian Rhapsody at Glastonbury 2015, didn't you?)? I will say I am a tad concerned for Bianca's mental health and wonder about the dynamic in the West/Censori household. 

But to show up, by all accounts uninvited, and pull a stunt like this, stinks to high Heaven of eau-de-desperation. Maybe it's a kink. But nobody consented to the display and I would happily never hear from these shit-gibbons again. 

With reference to my day, I really think risking a swim in chlorinated effluence is preferable to being bombarded with news about these vacuous nobodies.