Dear Justin Bieber,

i, like many others, forget how to spell your name from time to time, erroneously switching the i and the e. my sister would accuse me of phony fandom, but i beg to differ; considering there's a whole biography written about you which incorrectly spells your name. i checked my itunes to make sure i got the spelling right this time.

i am writing to inform you of how you were unwittingly involved in an unfortunate turn of events that led to a grave detriment of my education and sanity.

one fateful day, while perched on the wall alongside the Seine River and The Notre Dame Cathedral, and innocently yet solemnly meditating on thoughts of depth and substance, an artless associate of mine on this study abroad (who will remain nameless) positioned herself next to me while humming the tune of "Love Me." from that pivotal moment on, my once profound and productive thinking was turned to mush. i instantly felt a fatuous longing for the plush comfort of the squishy beige couch in the family den where i could re-watch unnecessarily Justin Bieber: Never Say Never for a third time and sing along to all of your hypnotic tunes. now, as I am back in Texas, sunk deep between the cushions of this potato incubator and with the flat screen that i am glued to mocking me with the monotony of summer in the suburbs, i regret the loss of that precious ambient music of accordions, fluttering pigeons, and Gregorian chanting which were taken for granted and drowned out by an incessant "baby, baby, baby ohhh" in my head. Annnnd the remaining three weeks of my European sojourn were accompanied by a nonstop soundtrack of your candied crooning. Even a discussion of neoclassical architecture versus baroque, was, for me, clouded by the strains of "Never Say Never" as it echoed through my thoughts.

however, i'm lovin the new hair and also the shoes you wear. i'd rock kicks like that more often if i wasn't apprehensive about giving males or anyone of the butch/femme persuasion the wrong idea. maybe if i found a pair with a floral pattern i could pull it off.

keep doing what you do, and this time i'll take the blame for my remorseful circumstance.

Star-struck,

Holly (don't need no Starbucks)