$tay ¢old

I love Amy Winehouse. I’ve never listened to her album(s?), but something about her makes me insane in a good way.

Is it her missing toof?

Is it her crack smoking demeanor?

Her penchant for walking the streets of London in the wee hours of the morning in her underwear?

I have no idea. She is so inexplicably gross and foul and not even really that pretty, but I read about every time she gets arrested or sent to rehab or banned from the Grammys with bated breath for some reason.

Here she is last night: my drug-addled, grill-busted love. You’ve come a long way baby.