Fall Out Boy Introduce Our Writer To The Britney Spears Lifestyle, In Bigger Than The Sound
On The Record: Famous For 144 Hours
Last week, when I wasn't fretting around cause of death mollusks or single-handedly destroying U.S./Chilean dealings with jokey, borderline-insensitive blog posts, I was in a hotel room with Fall Come out Son trying to avoid existence trampled by scream throngs of preteens, ducking the members of the paparazzi and basically giving up any hope of ever background foot exterior once more.
I was, for wholly intents and purposes, living the life sentence of a mega-celebrity. And it was sort of the worst thing of all time.
Of row, both those statements should be qualified. First, the hotel room in head was located in Punta Arenas, Chile, a town of hardly 120,000 people and the self-proclaimed "southernmost city in the earth." Just a two-hour flight to Antarctica, it isn't on the nose the sort of place multiplatinum rock bands go to unwind (unless they wanted to go over out the Maggiorino Borgatello Museum of Pre-Hispanic ethnic groups), which meant that Fall Come out Boy's presence was probably the hugest thing to happen to the townspeople since the Falklands War (also soon?). It wasn't difficult to be the biggest express in township, because we were fairly much the only show in townspeople.
Secondly, organism a mega-celebrity for sure isn't the worst thing always. Manifestly things like state of war, shortage, disease and Alex Rodriguez
