Goulash, Unfiltered: Queen of the Pop Scene
10/23/25
I just lost my private chef. Apparently she was "legally declared missing years ago" and "hasn't seen her kids since they were teens"... oh my god, relax, she was literally just on my compound.
I'm kind of glad she's gone- she kept changing in front of me, which I don't count as sexual harassment because she's too old and senile to remember what sex is, and saying stuff like "you don't know it but you're the real chattel, they're fattening you up, they're going to make something real weird out of you". I was arranging to have my assistant sedate her so I could transfer some of her fat to my boobs (you’re welcome, lady) but whatever. Have fun with your geriatric "kids" bitch.
Anyway, my manager took me to a cafe recently since I didn't have my chef to make me coffees anymore. I sat next to some German guy who'd definitely done poppers before (you can see it in the body language)- he was on FaceTime with two friends, both looked closeted but they were probably just also European. I waited til my manager was in the bathroom (he adds another tour stop every time he catches me talking to strangers) and told the guy that I went to Germany on my world tour and loved it. He pretended not to recognize me- as though I wasn’t doing him a favor!
This guy was talking to his friends about how he wanted to “revolutionize” the service industry, repeating all this shit about how data theft was really personally convenient for him (me too, since I don’t have any), and described this whole idea where every server in every restaurant would be mic’ed up and recorded so they wouldn’t have to take orders on paper or memorize them anymore. And, he said, when they’re on their breaks, they’ll get a little voice telling them about all the little things they’ve fucked up. It’ll talk about how they used too many speech fillers or some shit.
“Isn’t that what already happens?” I asked, “ I mean, I’m a huge celebrity and when I’m onstage I know I always have an in-ear. Yeah, and it helps me keep time and it helps me remember my lyrics and then, every so often, all the sound just stops and I hear my own voice saying all these things I don’t remember saying. It tells me ‘you’re not actually famous’ and asks me ‘do you remember your mother and father? Do you remember their faces?’, just like your thing would tell servers that they’re ingrates who don’t deserve to exercise their own memory or hold a pen and paper because they say ‘like’ too much… Or whatever.”
“And it’s like, yes I AM famous and I OBVIOUSLY remember my parents, I just can’t answer any questions about them unless I’ve just woken up. It’s like that for everyone. And nobody cares about their orders at restaurants anyway. We just care that whatever we get doesn’t smell like formaldehyde- all the food at home smells like it. Your idea’s going to go nowhere. We all wear in-ears. We all hear these things every day. Isn’t everyone already doing it?”
The German guy looked at me for a while. “No.”
Oh, okay. Sure. Well… I have a show tonight and he doesn’t… so…
I hope my in-ear just plays the click track.
