There’s something so irritating about Avril Lavigne and I’m not talking about her music. If I had no idea what she looked or dressed like or was not aware of her childish behavior in front of the papparazzi, I would equate the name “Avril Lavigne” with “Catchy pop music” and nothing else. But alas, Avril exists in real life, perhaps just to give our eyeballs exercise with constant eye rolls.
Avril tells Billboard that her next album, due out this November, will be “mainly the acoustic and my vocal… It’s a lot different from anything I’ve done before. It’s not a pop rock record. This is more about emotion and feeling.”
Maybe I could take her more seriously as an artist if she didn’t dress like she shops at the discount rack at Hot Topic. Or get married at the tender age of 21 and then release a nya-nya sort of song about hating somebody’s ugly girlfriend.
Also, how “punk” can somebody be with their own damn fragrance? You can’t give the world the finger and call yourself a “motherf—-ing princess” and then turn around all serious like and go, “I smell like flowers and butterscotch, buy my perfume at Bloomingdales.” Jennifer Lopez and Gwen Stefani can because they are classy ladies. Not somebody whose known to spit on people taking photos of her.
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