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I know that I make a lot of jokes about it, but I'm not really happy with the way I look lately. My dream of finally being able to make it with an eighteen-year-old cheerleader is slipping through my fingers.There's an unexpected edge of dissatisfaction, of unprocessed anger, that seeps between the lines. Sometimes Carey ventures into boneheadedness--as in a pointless rant against the sexual harassment policy at Warner Brothers and how it makes his life hard. More often, though, he comes across as a drinking buddy on a particularly funny night. That's what Carey set out to do--and there's room on many bookshelves for that.
So, I'm going to lose the weight.
I'm going to lose the weight, get a light tan, and get my back waxed. And, I'm going to buy a cheerleader outfit for the next girl I start dating. A cheerleader outfit and a riding crop. Why hold back?