by Eric Darnell Pritchard
Adele Adkins insists upon coming to collect the very few edges we have left. Last week she did an old school, Harry Potter “avradacadavra” curse on our ENTIRE life, first with an open letter apologizing for being away from us so long:
Around the same time she appeared as the latest cover model for i-D Magazine which I posted about here, serving us the cat eye of life, and I was ALREADY ready for her to leave me alone, leave her album at my doorstep, and just go away. She’s too damn amazing. I can’t take it anymore. But of course, whereas normal people know to go have a seat when they slay the entire Universe in just a matter of days, Adele is like NAH! let me revive them JUST so I can kill them again. And so within days of saying I am sorry I won that Oscar and disappeared on ya’ll, she shows up on our iTunes like “Hello” ?
So, yesterday when I heard she was on the cover of Rolling Stone I was like, nope not looking. She will not do this to me again. Why is she in my mind this much and it hasn’t even been a full two weeks since that damn open letter? Do I need to charge her rent for living up in my head and my heart in this way? Not looking. Not ON TODAY. Welp, I looked anyway and while I do not regret it, my soul does. Because no make-up Adele is just as (if not even more) gorgeous than make-up Adele. Here are the receipts:
Now can we all go back to our business. Of course not. We have a magazine cover to obsess over the rest of the week? Thanks, Adele. Ugh. *Wall slides*