I have this discomfiting sense that things are...awkward between us. And since I didn't want to disturb you last night after the Super Bowl—I heard a series of snuffles and moans coming from your dressing room, and assumed you were caring for a sick pet or nursing some sort of terrible rapid-onset head cold—I thought I'd write you an apology.
I'm sorry I completely dominated your halftime show.
You must have guessed, when I dropped my genius "Formation" video one day before the Super Bowl, that some serious mischief was afoot? Didn't you gaze upon the vid's inspired choreography (shout-out to the brilliant Dana Foglia, JaQuel Knight and Chris Grant) and think, "Wow, those 'Formation' formations sure would look great on a giant football field! They'd basically turn Beyoncé into the captain of the most epic dance team that ever was!"?
And so they did.
I shouldn't take all the credit, though. Again, complete honesty is my policy, and therefore I have to thank Bruno Mars for his valiant, albeit unsuccessful, attempt to defeat me in our halftime dance battle. What an adorable little man he is! What a wonderful viral moment that made! His Run DMC-style chain necklace sparkled with at least half the brilliance of my custom DSQARED2 Michel Jackson-esque military jacket, didn't it?
But I digress; this was meant to be a moment of contrition, not of instruction. And so please believe me when I say that there was no malicious intent here. I am simply incapable of being anything less than mind-bogglingly, earth-shatteringly, internet-breakingly fantastic.
And so it has come to pass. But fear not, Chris: I've already reserved tickets for you for my Formation Tour. Because I know how thrilled you were when that tour announcement dropped immediately following what was, in theory, your halftime show. I heard you mutter that little congratulatory oath (I assume it was congratulatory?) under your breath as the world was made aware of my next great undertaking. I saw your hand tense on the mic (in happy excitement, I'm sure?) as any eyes that remained on you were wrenched, unceremoniously and inexorably, to me.
I'm sorry, Chris. I really am. But more importantly: YOU'RE WELCOME.