the thin line between optimism and delusion…

Let’s say you were at a club, this club could be located in any city, but my imaginary club would be located in Miami. 

And let’s say on this particular day Nelly Furtado and Justin Timberlake both happened to be in Miami, they run into each other at their exclusive hotels, and decide to hit the town together, because they are colleagues and friends.  They of course bring their body guards and entourage so the tabloids wouldn’t have them dating by the end of the weekend.  Nelly and Justin have sushi for dinner and discussed the latest Hollywood gossip, over sake bombs and crazy rolls. 

The convo would go something like this:

N:  So, who do you think Cami is going to take to the Shrek 3 premiere?

J:  Shut up Nelly.

N:  Haha, I think you should hid in the red carpet crowd and when she and her new flavor walk by you can rip your shirt off and start yelling about how you have better abs than that guy and how she is nothing without you.  That would be awesome. 

J:  Oh yeah?  Well, for that, I’m going to challenge you to a dance off.  I’m not going to listen to you disrespect me like this – after all – I’m the one who broke up with the She-Ogre, even if she has been looking extra awesome lately. 

N:  You are on!  I can dance you into the ground any day of the week JT!  Name the place and time!

J:  Right now!  Tonight, here in Miami.  Let’s go to the nearest club and have it out.

So there you are, dancing around with your $15 cosmo, when Nelly and Justin stroll into the club – stop at the bar and buy ten shots of tequila for themselves and the people sitting at the bar, hit the floor and start dancing. 

You see them at the club, and they’re acting real nice.  You see them on the floor, and you’re watching all night.   

Timbaland is going to be so mad he was in New York when this went down.