For The Love of Riri
I love Rihanna.
Hear me out, you hater, ‘cuz this is the next Beyonce (of sorts) you’re reading about.
I don’t really know that much about her, nothing more that she shined bright like a diamond in my ears for days on end; diamonds are not something Madonna and Pink Floyd sing about anymore, but this Rihanna chick. And I know Chris Brown did some huge no-no, yet love takes rock at any rock-paper-scissors game, and that I won’t judge or discuss either, to each his own.
But what I do know, and what it is that attracts me to her like a moth to the flame is that she’s drop dead gorgeous. Seriously, shes beautiful. Not just hot, but beautiful. Spaghetti strap silky slip dresses? Oh my. Matte red lips? Hi there. Long, red pointy nails? Where do I buy those? Side shave and wavy curls? On my summer to-do list.
And when she’s hood, she’s real good- Riri’s track pants are what I imagine track pants to look like in track pants heaven. Seen those Adidas hi-tops? So freaking boss, I can’t even deal.