I Wrapped It Up And Sent It

Feliz Navidad and stuff! I can say with absolute certainty that I am not at all ready for Christmas. Hubby has the flu, Bug's daycare is closed (which means he's at work with me, which means I'm not getting any work done,) and we have an eight hour (at least) car trip ahead of us tomorrow (which means I'll be driving all day while Hubby vomits out the window and Bug kicks the back of my seat and screams.) Also, I'm not packed and we're hosting a last minute cocktail party tonight. Clearly I have lost my mind.

But in the spirit of the season, I have a little holiday-themed earworm to pass along today. It's been stuck in my brain for about a week now, but I just haven't had the time to post it. You know, with all of my many social engagements to keep up with. And by social engagements I mean season one of Homeland. But I digress, today the stuck music is brought to you by Wham! (and George Michael's awesome hair...and his gay earrings.) As previously stated, Last Christmas has been playing on a loop for about eight days now (which might be significant if G.M is partially Jewish), despite the fact that I only know the words to the chorus. And actually I think I keep getting them wrong too. But still it's one of the less annoying Christmas pop songs, so I guess things could be worse. What I think I love most about this video (and this is a close runner up to the plethora of over sized coats from the 80's) is the fact that he's singing about some chick when we all know he'd rather be sticking it to the other dude in Wham. Also, the fact they they are all just pretending to take sips from their wine glasses is kind of hilarious. Were they not 21 yet when they shot this video? Was the director scared of things getting out of control with all the rampant Chardonnay sippage? I feel an investigation coming on...

So Merry Christmas and pass the egg nog! And thank you baby Jesus for another happy (most of the time) year with Hubby, Bug and of course, Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou. Peace out.

Climb Aboard, Get Ready To Explore

"We're going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship." If you don't have young children I bet you can't name that tune! Hubby and I, however, can name it in two notes or less. Beat that, bitches! We are so familiar with this little ditty that we actually both woke up singing it this morning. Bug just told us to be quiet. He can be so unappreciative of our morning duets.

So the earworm du jour is the theme song from Disney Jr.'s Little Einsteins, currently young master Bug's favorite show. For those of you who don't know (and are probably 112% uninterested) the concept of this show is actually right up my alley. It teaches famous composers and artists, music theory and terms, mixed in with a bit of geographic exploration of places with major architectural or historical significance. In reality it is totally bizarro. The rocket ship in which these four parent-less tots zoom around time and space (totally unchaperoned!) is fueled by Rocket Soup made of cheese, peas, and musical jumping beans. And yet somehow said soup is bright tomato red. This makes no sense. Neither cheese, peas, or musical jumping beans (I have seen them, so I know) are red. And still, red soup. This doesn't seem to bother Bug, but I just can't get past it. Anyway, all 13 of my readers should consider this their lucky day, because I managed to track down a video of the song sung in six (yes, SIX!) different languages BACK TO BACK!!! You get to listen to it six times in a row, people! English, Spanish, Italian, Japanese (my personal fave) and French. If you make it to the French without developing some sort of nervous eye twitch, you score 70 bonus points. Good luck in your mission. Start the count down...

Don't Call My Name

Blogging is hard work, y'all. Like, for reals. First off, where do I find the time? I am just soooooo busy! I mean, I have to pretend to work for 8 whole hours a day, then I have like 5 hours of TV to watch when I get home. Not to mention the fact that Hubby and Bug can be so needy with all the requests for food and water and poop-free diapers (those are mostly just for Bug.) Phew, what's a girl to do?! OK, so the reality of the situation is that I am lazy and uninspired and that's why the blog has been on hiatus. Now that we have that cleared up, let's move on.

Lady Gaga. I am fascinated, intimidated, grossed out by, and a little in awe of this woman. I do not understand the meat dress. I totally love the bubble dress. I like that she is an actual musician. I do not like that she has that fab body because of eating disorders. But all of that aside, what I'm here to discuss today is the song Alejandro. I just don't get what's going on here. Who the f**k is Alejandro? And if he's important enough to have an entire song about how irresistible he is, why does she also mention some other dudes (Roberto and Fernando?) Is she having a 4-way? Or trying not to have a 4-way? I'm confused. And the chorus. What's up with that? She just says his name over and over and calls it a day. Was she suffering from writers block while penning this little snippet of Americana? And the video does absolutely nothing to clear any of this up. I mean, we get it, you like to prance around in funky costumes (or your underwear) and fancy lighting while topless men dance-fight (or simulate raping you) for your enjoyment (don't we all?) But what the hell does that have to do with the damn song, woman?!? Eating a rosary? Now that makes sense.

Seriously, help. Somebody please figure this one out for me. In the meantime I'm going to go develop an eating disorder of my own. Why should she get to have all the fun?

We've Had A *Bleep* Day

So I'm pretty sure I heard this song three times yesterday. On the same radio station. Within only a few hours. Eesh. So needless to say, Pink's Blow Me (One Last Kiss) is the earworm du jour. I actually kind of like Ms. Alecia Beth Moore. She's got a killer voice, even if you don't like it. Hubby (is about to be outed) used to totally rock out to that song Get the Party Started way back in 2001. Oh yes he did! You go, girl! And I like that she's a pop star that actually plays instruments and writes her own music. Quel novelty! And of course the Lady Marmalade video...tres sexy!

And even though you expect things she does to be slightly against the grain in terms of pop trends and what all the other young skin-bearing h(st)arlettes are doing these days, this video is not at all what I was thinking it would be after hearing this song two dozen times. Way to throw us a curve ball, P!nk! Anyway, I just wouldn't be me if I didn't also give a heads up to the Glee cast (even though that show is getting lamer by the episode) when they covered this one. I mean, the guy who plays Unique hits all of Pink's high notes with less difficulty than I do when I'm in the shower and someone flushes a toilet. And he has a penis. So, yeah, you definitely go girl! Or boy? I think he prefers girl...I dunno, just watch the video.

Fun Friday factoid: In conjunction with PETA, Pink criticized the Australian wool industry for its use of mulesing. Yeah, just Google mulesing real quick. Yikes.

 

In other news, I need to learn to type French accents. Au revoir.

 



 



My Baby Shot Me Down

OK. Time to get back to normal. After all the sickness, and sprained ankles, and bummer birthdays spent hopping on one foot chasing a toddler with a fever and the runniest nose on earth, I am returning to the blogosphere in an attempt to feel like things are back on track. Of course, things aren't, but it's time to fake it 'til I make it. So here goes.

Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang is a damn sexy song. Loving it. But why is it stuck in my head? Well I'll tell you (you knew I would!) Limping around at work today I stumbled upon our latest magazines waiting to be put out for the information starved public, and I happened upon the December issue of Dance Spirit (homeless people can't get enough of this one.) On the cover of this magazine (that no one reading this blog probably even knew existed,) are the two latest winners from So You Think You Can Dance (a show no one reading this blog probably ever watches.) The girl, Eliana Girard (not that anyone cares) is a ballet dancer whose most memorable moment on the show was when she danced a very sultry number to this song. And yes, I remembered that immediately when seeing her on the cover of the magazine. Because I do actually watch that show and know who this girl is. You can make fun if you like. I'm used to it (Hubby!) And she's awesome, so she probably doesn't care about your opinion either. So there. So there's today's earworm explained. You can all go back to what you were doing now. But first you'll want to watch Nancy in all her pink-fringed glory sing this song. She makes it look so easy. What a bitch.

So, it seems her fringe-matching pink boots weren't actually made for walking, but for rolling comically off stage after her performance. An interesting choice. I'm not sure I get it. The SYTYCD judges would most definitely not approve. "Nancy, we really expect a higher level of performance from you at this stage of the competition. I'm afraid we will not be asking you to stay. YOU'RE FIRED!" Oh wait...wrong show. Whatever.







He's Real Smart With A Real Big Heart

The whole gosh-darned family has been sick for over a week. We're all sick and tired of being sick and tired. And what I'm most over at the moment is the 2:00 a.m. eyes-popping-open-for-no-reason-other-than-I'm-hopped-up-on-cold-medicine routine that I've gotten into. And every danged morning last week, the same danged song was on a very fast and loud repeat in my looped out brain. I think this one got stuck when I stumbled upon the tail end of the movie Sweet Home Alabama (more than once, I might add) while home on the couch trying not to cough up both lungs. I'm a total Dolly fan (she's made an appearance here before,) but this song at that time of morning...it's just not working for me. Please for the love of all that is good and holy, make it stop! I just fell asleep while typing that.

There Is This Old Woman

I know I've mentioned this in previous posts (and I know that no one really cares,) but the state of Atlanta radio these days...Oy Vey! Yesterday, one of the good ones (which is currently functioning like a jukebox because they fired all the DJ's three weeks early to prep the switch to 24/7 sports talk...slaps forehead and roles eyes...) was playing the Pixies. There will be no other station in this town that will play this kind of music in the foreseeable future. Disgraceful! Apparently the demographic that enjoys good music no longer listens to the radio. Except for me. Go figure.

Anyway, Dig for Fire is a great song and I hadn't heard it in quite a while. It made me happy and now it's so stuck in my head. When Hubby and I first moved to Atlanta we stood in a crowd in the pouring rain in Midtown, wearing our most fashionable emergency ponchos, and giggled like teenagers at the fact that we were getting to see the Pixies, LIVE, at last! I realize they tour and stuff now, but this was a BIG deal (to me anyway) in 2005. I totally remember doing that thing where you call all your besties and hold your phone up during your fave song, thinking that you're sharing this incredible moment with them, and that they're on the other end of the line rocking out and being jealous of you, when what's really going on is they can't actually hear what you're hearing and they wonder if you butt dialed them, and when you don't answer all their frantic cries of "HELLO??" they just hang up, but you still think they're there thinking about how cool you are, so you keep holding your phone up (in the rain) like an idiot. Good times! I'm pretty sure these days there is no way in hell I'd stand in a thunderstorm to watch anyone play, so really Black Francis and crew should consider themselves lucky.

Fun Friday factoid: Dig For Fire is apparently a tribute song to The Talking Heads. MmmHmmm.

Side bar: This Dig for Fire link has nothing to do with the Pixies and most certainly deserves a post all its own, but just trust me that it's worth checking out. Music saves, people!

I Love My Whiskey And I Love My Gin

So, I've been off the grid for a week now and that was all awesome and stuff, and there was lots of nature (read, bugs,) and quality family time, and blah, blah, blah, but I'm back and I've got a ton of random schizer stuck in my head so get ready! I'm sure all five of my readers have been anxiously awaiting my return with bated breath, so let's just jump right in here. Somehow during our time in The Natural State my cousin tricked me into listening to a lot of Old Crow Medicine Show and enjoying it. I must have been distracted by all the cuteness he was doling out on Bug. He drew him this picture at Bug's request. Both of them seeing no reason why an Air Whale (our new family band name, btw) can't exist in real life. (First single, Lonesome Hay Bale. Gonna have a wicked harmonica solo. Get into it.) Anyway, the combo of this new found friendship and the copious amounts of red wine I'd consumed had me happily tapping my feet along to the OCMS version of Cocaine Habit (or Take a Whiff on Me.)

Now this little piece of Americana has been covered by everyone from Woody Guthrie to the White Stripes, Jerry Garcia to the Flying Burrito Brothers (and a whole slew of others from the late 1920s to the present date,) but the Old Crow Medicine Show version had us all kicking our boots in the mud by the fire (while we were discussing the possibilities of string theory and theoretical physics...I kid you not. Staring at so many stars for so long tends to shift your perspective on things a bit.) Anyway, my point being that no matter what you're doing or debating or discussing right now, you can kick your boots a little bit while you listen. It feels pretty good. 'Specially if there's mud on 'em.

I May Find Myself Delayed

As predicted, my previous post has launched this morning's earworm. That one instrumental line (you know the one I mean) from Kiss Them for Me a la Siouxsie and the Banshees has been on a constant loop in my head for the past 48 hours. I remember really liking this song when I was like 13, I had the cassette and everything (I even remember what the cover looked like,) but I can honestly say I don't recall a single other song on the album. I think I was just pretending to like them because that song was cool at the time. Yes I was a tad insecure in my younger days and fully admit to being "une poseur" occasionally. Which sounds even lamer considering the band we're talking about. But had I done a little digging into Ms. Sioux back in the day I probably would have discovered that she was pretty effing rad. I mean, she covers Dear Prudence, for crying out loud. Awesome. And loads of folks regard her as one of the original female punk icons. I did not know that. She hung out with the Sex Pistols, her songs have been covered by everyone from Jeff Buckley to TV On The Radio, and she still looks smokin' in her 50's. And here's this fun Friday factoid for you: the band provided original songs for both Showgirls and Batman Returns, and Siousxie herself was considered for the role of Cat Woman in the latter. Wonder how Michelle Pfeiffer would've taken that news?

I'm really glad the poodle made the casting call. Too bad about all that wasted champagne though.

And All Of The Ghouls Come Out To Play

So, it's come to my attention that I might like Florence and the Machine (despite the fact that every time I hear her I think of a more warbly Siouxsie and The Banshees. And yes, Siouxsie is still around and looking damn fine! I predict a future blog post...now back to Florence.) I mean, I don't change the channel when she comes on the radio, and I can dig most of the songs that have made it to the air waves. Plus she's got one of those voices that can be fun to belt along to when I'm singing really loud in my car. Unfortunately, I probably won't be hearing much more of her on the ATL radio (or anyone else I care to listen to) since yet another radio station in this town just bit the dust. It will now be all sports talk. Even though we already have one of those (plus one on the AM dial...just how much sports can the human ear stand?!) And this after my other fave station went to 24 hour news (because that's necessary even though the majority of us are bombarded with news updates on the interwebs all day.) What about the music, Atlanta?!? For those of us with busted CD players and cars too old to have auxiliary hook ups, this is a total bummer. But I digress...

Shake it Out is a pretty powerful tune and Flo totally rocks it, but I caught her doing a few songs on SNL recently and I thought my ears were going to melt. She was god awful live. I'm not sure she hit one solid right note. But maybe it was just a fluke. Or maybe my ears were out of tune that day. At the very least I know she wasn't lip syncing (ooh, take that Ashlee Simpson!)

Anyway, I'm not really sure I know what's happening in this video, but she is singing about burying some poor old horse, so perhaps this is some sort of sacrificial ritual? That involves masks? And some interpretive tango? And a crystal ball. Obvs. Or maybe it's a seance to contact the horse. Apparently it's just too cerebral for the likes of me. Looks like a fun party though.

Do It Anyway

So once again my brain universe (brain universe?) is colliding. Things that are on my mind that keep coming together and popping up randomly. The list: A sudden rekindling of my love for Ben Folds (with or without the Five,) wanting Bug to love The Muppet Show as much as I did as a kid, Jim Henson's (would-have-been) 76th birthday this week, and the below video. Does stuff like this ever just really freak you out? Well, it does me. And while this song does show off  B.F.'s mad piano skills, it doesn't highlight his many varied choices in cover song material, our shared love of Nick Hornby, or his uncanny ability look super smooth (for a nerdy white guy) while rapping. But the fact that it's been brought to my attention several times this week makes it a tune I can't blog bypass (blogpass? blypass? blass?) So love him or hate him, the man plays music with Fraggles. Props should be given.

 

 

If only the Doozers had been invited to the party. Random side note: I have a plant (actually a succession of plants) that have been named Madam Trash Heap for the past six years. Yes, I name plants.

 

And one last side note: even if you HATE Ben Folds, even if you didn't have the energy to click on any of the other links above, CLICK ON THIS ONE. I'm so serious, y'all.

Cut Loose Like A Deuce

So the version of this song that's actually stuck in my head is the one I hate. Typical. Manfred Mann's cover of Blinded by the Light. I change the station every time it comes on. And on my last remaining classic rock station (because Atlanta is systematically destroying all of its best radio stations and turning them into 24/7 sports talk) it's on the rotation A LOT. So F you, Manfred Mann, no I will not sign up for your newsletter or read your stories. Oh, you're touring? WHO CARES?!? And what the hell kind of name is Manfred Mann's Earth Band anyway? Seriously. Manfred? Your parents maybe didn't like you so much. Just a thought.

No the real deal will always be Bruce even though M.M. was the band that hit #1 with it (Bruce's only #1, bee tee dubs.) And there's truly no one who can talk about this song better than The Boss himself, so I will shut up now. But I highly recommend watching the video below (you have to do a little work here and fast forward to about 8:59 to get to this song...or watch the whole thing cause it's effing Bruce, people.) And he's kind of a genius.

Get More: Bruce Springsteen, MTV Hive, MTV Hive Videos

All hail the rhyming dictionary!

She's My Baby

Somehow listening to Black Sabbath's Changes doesn't conjure images of bat head-biting for me, especially the version that I have stuck in my ear this morning with Kelly and Ozzy singing a sweet duet to each other on some MTV awards show several years ago. I know I've said this before, but I am literally fascinated by the random s**t my brain conjures up sometimes. Trying to figure out why these earoworms surface is half the fun! The other half is walking around humming (read "singing very loudly") and annoying family, friends and coworkers. Anyway, I have an educated guess that this particular worm stemmed from me seeing an episode of Fashion Police (which a purple-haired Kelly Osbourne is currently on) recently and somehow my brain dredged up this moment in TV history from 2003. Why I would have even been watching MTV in 2003 will remain a mystery, and why I particularly remember this song is even mysteriouser (?) But I digress. The re-worked lyrics (by Kelly) and the way she smiles at him and the cute little smooch at the end (awe...) really make it a nice little moment. And apparently when the song was released it hit #1 in the UK. Way to ride those coat tails, girl!

Fun Friday factoid: Sir Elton John settled the debate between father and offspring about whether or not to include the choir in the background while they were visiting him in the south of France (as you do with Sir Elton.) Elton and Ozzy liked it, so the choir stayed. I like it too, so I'm glad. Sorry Kells. Elton also apparently gave Kelly food poisoning (yes, MTV deems this newsworthy information,) so she lost on multiple fronts. Her life must really suck. Oh wait.

Yes, I can feel the love.

I Made A Small Chimp Smoke Cardboard Cinnamon

I have become obsessed. Seriously, I can't stop. I am an addict! And I probably need some sort of rehab. I have gotten no work done in at least 24 hours because of this. Bad Lip Reading. It's effing genius! So, why is this site showing up on a blog about earworms? Well, because Hubby and I both woke up singing the only singable line from the More Mitt video. A little ditty that goes something like this:

Tap it, tap it in that's a zinger,
And tell me how to poke it on Tuesday.
 

Clearly this makes absolutely no sense, but it's had us totally cracking up for two days now. There's really not anything clever or witty that I can add here, you just have to watch it. And if you don't shed a few salty tears of laughter, you are obviously dead inside. Everybody, sing along!

 

My name is Big Strong Greg, and I approve this message.

Josie's On A Vacation Far Away

So here's some news. The Outfield are still around and they put out a new record last year. And (it isn't my favorite, but) it doesn't suck. I know, amazing, right? This song is kind of like the Beach Boys and Duran Duran had a one night stand that resulted in an illegitimate child who grew up to be a sitar player in a pop band. Agreed? But Your Love is still the only song of theirs that I actually know and thanks to an (over) abundance of classic-rock-radio-listening on my part, it has been stuck in my head for a couple of days. It's one of those songs that I definitely sing REALLY LOUDLY to when I'm driving. Air drums. There are always air drums. Unless of course your listening to the cover version by Bon Iver. Which is actually kind of awesome (if you like that kind of melancholy make-over of an 80s classic,) but definitely not conducive to air drumming.

Anywho, fun factoid for Friday: The Outfield originally played under the name The Baseball Boys because they were obsessed with America's favorite pastime despite being from London's East End. And now you can take that gripping piece of music history with you anywhere you go! It's like a mobile app. Or something. Ugh, is it the weekend yet?

Does anyone else suspect this girl of also being in Ah-Ha's Take on Me video? Time to bust out my mad research skills, yo!

Scales! They're No Fun!

I'm taking a trip down memory lane with this one, so just indulge me for a sec.

So, I heart my Moms, but recently I discovered that she had done the most unimaginable thing. She had thrown out all of my old children's LPs, most of which were in great condition. In the trash. Even though I own two record players. With not a second thought. And right after I had a frickin' kid!!! Needless to say she will never live this one down. Sorry Moms. Why this popped back into my head (or should I say ear) today, I'm not sure. But hopefully I'm not the only one who remembers the classic (and now out of print....grrrrrrr) Rusty in Orchestraville. True I can download it, or buy a CD version for like 45 bucks (Jesus, Moms!) but it just wouldn't sound the same. Still, I'll probably break down and do it cause it's a fun and nostalgic way to teach kiddos the instruments of an orchestra. And (she says in her most lofty tone) EVERY child should know the instruments in an orchestra. Also, the instruments talk using this new-fangled Sonovox technology, which either makes it awesome or incredibly creepy for the average (or even above average!) child. Thanks weird inventions of the 1940's, Peter Frampton just wouldn't be the same without you.

Beep Beep, Beep Beep, Beep Beep

This is awesome. The breakdancing, the tacky clothes, the jerry curls. The Jerry Curls!!! My cousin put the song No Parking on the Dance Floor on a mix tape for me when I was like six. I'm pretty sure I haven't heard it since, so this little worm in my ear is definitely way out of left field. And just in case you were wondering (and I know that you were,) yes, Midnight Star is back and planning a tour, so pull out those old purple pleated parachute pants, don your bluest of eye shadows and be on the lookout! To quote band member Belinda Lipscomb (who apparently has been making a living singing at Sandals resorts):

... MIDNIGHT STAR has been blessed with gifts and talents that could only come from GOD up above. There is no doubt about it… MIDNIGHT STAR is back and ready to do it now and beyond.
 

I'm not sure what "and beyond" really means here. Is it like "to infinity and beyond?" Sorry, too much Buzz Lightyear in my household. Maybe it's just a generic "and beyond" as in we don't know how much longer any of use will be alive because we started this funky group 36 years ago, but we're here until we're not anymore. Well, whatever it means, they're back. And doing it. It's time to start practicing your robot and arm waves. Bust it.

Uhm, Something, Something In Hebrew?

OK, so I know I've already posted about this one (to many people's dismay, I might add) but I am finding myself temporarily fascinated by this cover of Somebody That I Used to Know. Maybe this rendition will make the haters hate less. I mean, it's not my favorite song of all time, but it isn't terrible. Anyway, whether it does or not is not the point. The point is there are five people playing one...what is that?...some kind of mandolin? How do they know where to put their hands? It's like figuring out a five-some! It's guitar porn! I'm also impressed with the lack of spitting on each other that should be happening when singing in Hebrew while standing shoulder to shoulder. All those glottal stops and what not. Say it, don't spray it, brother!

Actually this instrument is a bouzouki. Duh. It's a Greek instrument from the lute family. Double duh. I can't believe you guys didn't already know that. Amateurs. And seeing as how I'm not a regular reader of Guitar World (I know, shocker) I'm just now learning that this is actually a cover of a cover of five other people playing one guitar and singing this song. Why? What is this new fascination with standing very close together and playing the same instrument? Is this a marketable talent these days? Taught in music schools across the country? Can you add it to your resume?

"Hello, my name is ______. I have the uncanny ability to knock on a bouzouki, imitating a drum beat, with one hand. You should hire me. Thank you for your time."

Yeah, I'd totally hire that guy.

Before The Cream Sets Out Too Long

It's Saturday. I'm at work. It's dark and stormy out. Red House Painters is playing. Jeesums, this is depressing. Fortunately I have just remembered this morning's earworm and it was definitely not any musical incarnation of Mark Kozelek (did you guys know he was in Almost Famous and Shopgirl? Random factoid of the day delivered. De nada.) In fact you could pretty much call Devo the antithesis of any of his bands, wouldn't you agree? So yeah, today's little ray of sunshine is, in fact, Whip It. I can actually trace this one back to the fact that I watched the movie Whip It! last night (hey, there's our pal Har Mar!) and even though this song was not featured on the film's soundtrack, you can see the obvious connection here.

So, according to an unnamed source (because it sounds more mysterious that way,) the meaning behind the lyrics actually has nothing to do with "whipping it," in the wink-wink-nudge-nudge sense of the word. In fact it was written as an imitation of Thomas Pynchon's parodies of limericks in the book Gravity's Rainbow. Wha? I don't know if any of you folks have tried to read Pynchon before (I confess to only have tried and not succeeded) but that changes everything about this song for me! They aren't making fun of sadomasochism, they're just making fun of overly egotistical "you can do it" poetry! DUH! I knew it had to be about something more lofty than beating it.

The video, however, totally went with the public perception of the song and was apparently inspired by a true story found in a 1962 girlie mag called Dude. Of course! Hence we have the beer-drinking, coral-loving, sex-obsessed cowboys with whips tearing off women's clothing in a bull pen. While wearing upside down flowerpots on their heads. Obvs this predates the FCC setting any rules for MTV. Cause those flowerpots are down right offensive.

Crazy 'Bout Elvis

Who doesn't love Tom Petty? And if there are people out there who don't love Tom Petty, what on earth is wrong with them? Idiots. That's what. So many great songs, but it's Free Fallin (co-written with fellow Wilbury, Jeff Lynne) that's stuck in my head today. Once when I was in high school (or maybe it was junior high?) I saw the Heartbreakers play at the pyramid in Memphis with all my girlfriends. We heard he was staying at the Peabody (you know, the one with the ducks?) so we went and camped out in the lobby hoping to catch a glimpse. All of the sudden he emerged! He walked right past our table and (I SWEAR) he said "Evenin', ladies" as he strutted on by (wearing his signature shades, of course.) Naturally this caused a lot of giddy, girlie, squealy things to happen, and then he was gone. That was it. My brush with greatness. Sigh... And to this day that was the best damn rock show I've ever seen. Hands down, no argument about it. Sorry Bruce, but it's true.

I have to say though, this isn't one of the videos that I really remember from Petty's catalog of cool videos. He appears to be floating a lot in this one. Not sure if that was an artistic choice or not, but I guess it works. Makes me want to hang out at the mall. Remember when that was where all us cool kids hung out? Do kids still do that? Who am I kidding, I've always hated the mall. I was just trying to fit in.

Anyway, factoid of the day: Tom's middle name is Earl. That's all.

Olympic Tribute!

 Holy god, this song is bad. Like, super bad. But not in a funny way like the movie, Superbad. Like, legitimately bad, bad. But apparently the International Olympic Committee deemed it worthy of being the official theme song of these 2012 summer games. Jeesums, are they deaf? I mean, they are a bunch of old white dudes, right? Did they actually listen to this song in its entirety? Was there any debate at least over holding out for something (anything) better? Coldplay couldn't step in here? Couldn't they have just stuck with Sir Paul and called it a night?

I have no idea who Muse is, other than the singer being Kate Hudson's baby-daddy (she likes the musician types, doesn't she?) but honestly the song Survival makes me want to punch them in the face(s). It's terrible. Just terrible. And Kate helped pen it! Good lord, girl, what have you done? Then again, there have been other questionable choices in the past. Gloria Estefan, Bryan Adams, Bjork? Look, I'm a Bjork lover, but what the hell is going on here? A reasonable Q&A from Time explains it thusly:

1. Is this song about eternal friendship, the indomitable human spirit, or the competitive drive within us all? None. It’s an ocean singing about human evolution.
2. So Björk went and flipped the script on the whole Olympic theme song with “Oceania”? I mean, when she sang “Every pearl is a lynx is a girl” we think you could hear the world collectively sigh, “Where’s Celine Dion?”
3. Björk’s dress is a: Humongous piece of fabric that stretches across the floor of an entire stadium then has a map of the world projected on it, obviously.
4. If it weren’t for the fireworks at the end of the song: I’m legitimately unsure if people would have cheered.
5. But is this the best Olympic theme song? Yes.
6. Choice YouTube Comment: “I like it and I don’t like it. It kinda is the kinda song that plays in a schizophrenics head.” —ForeverPassionate2
7. Relevant Olympic Moment tied to this song: Iceland won exactly zero medals in 2004 Summer Olympics.

Anyway, enjoy the horribleness of this year's selection at least once. The lyrics are truly inspirational. I hope your ears stop bleeding soon.

 

  

Wanna See Me Disco?

So, Hubby and I have been talking (again) about changing some things up and getting in better shape and conveniently I have just found my new workout with this morning's earworm selection. Le Tigre's Deceptacon was played (and danced to) religiously at pretty much every college house party I attended  in 1999, but with moves like the ones in this video I can totally get my cardio in for the day in under four minutes! Ironically this is stuck in my head because it was in the soundtrack of a movie that was supposed to be set in the 80's and also features such hits as Elvira and Don't Cry Out Loud (The Oak Ridge Boys and Melissa Manchester in case you were too lazy to Google it yourselves.) Man I thought Elvira was a hilarious song when I was little. Hi ho, Silver.

Anyway, hearing Le Tigre made me want to go dig out this album and jump around like an idiot. Which I did. Then it made me realize how long ago 1999 actually was. Which explained why I was so winded. Interesting factoid of the day: this song is listed in the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. I will verify this later by activating my stellar library skills (i.e. walking over to the shelf and looking in the book) but for now we'll just assume that the interwebs never lie. So great, I can tick that one off the list then. One step closer to death! Hmmm. In that case maybe I'll skip putting on my work out clothes and just have another glass of wine. Nah, too early for that. A Bloody Mary would be more apropos.

So here's the routine. Costumes aren't required, but I'm sure the band wouldn't mind if you had a drink in your hand while you followed along. Making it the perfect workout for moi!

Yes, I know the video quality is crappy, but that has nothing to do with me so shut up and learn your moves!

Ain't Nothin Gonna Break My Stride

This song is just making me happy. Got a little reggae bounce going on in my work chair. And if I was feeling the need to actually accomplish anything today, Break My Stride would be a great motivating anthem. As it turns out, I'm just feeling tired because I'm not used to getting up to greet the day earlier than 8:00 a.m. Next time Hubby goes out of town I'm going to train the dogs to let themselves out and poor a cup of milk for Bug (this just gave me so many great mental images!) I will also purchase some sort of helmet to wear when Bug decides he must sleep in my bed, to protect my genius brain from his flailing feet. What are his feet constantly doing by my head when he's sleeping? How did he get way over there? Why is there a pacifier in my ear? When can I take a nap?

Anywho, Matthew Wilder's one and only hit apparently was not the only thing he did in his career. As if you care. But I'm going to tell you anyway. He produced No Doubt's first album that went like quadruple platinum and was nominated for an Oscar for work on the Mulan soundtrack. I know. Riveting. Maybe it's best to go back to not knowing who the hell he is and just enjoy the song...and... done.

And for those of you who never watch the videos here (Hubby,) I promise you'll enjoy this one. The skimpily-leotarded-ladies have come up with some truly breathtaking choreography (it's especially becoming on the men.) And the last ass shot is pure cinematography magic. Also featured is Matthew Wilder's mustache. And fro. And black pleather pants. And sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off with a long-sleeved shirt underneath. And that shirt is pink. So clearly, worth 3.5 minutes of your time.

You're So Fine You Blow My Mind

OK, so truth be told this is not the song that I woke up with this morning. The real earworm of the day was Who Will Buy? from the musical Oliver! I have no idea why it was there or from whence it came, but the sad fact for most of the folks who read this is that you all hate on the show tunes and the big dance numbers, so anything clever I had to say about this song/show would just go right over all your hateful heads. So I'm going with the runner up that I heard on the radio earlier, Toni Basil's 1982 hit (were there any others?) Hey Mickey. You guys win.

So, here's what's kind of ironical about all this though (yes I know 'ironical' is not a word,) and maybe even a little freaky-deaky. Here goes: The Monkees Davy Jones (R.I.P. we love you!) was the original Artful Dodger in the Broadway production of Oliver! (he was even nominated for a Tony at the ripe old age of 16,) and Toni Basil renamed her song Mickey (it was originally about Kitty...a girl...raise eyebrows here) after "becoming fond of" Micky Dolenz on the set of Head where she worked as a choreographer (because she too had a history of  show tunes and jazz hands.) Also, someone just asked me if I could find them some books and videos about cheerleading. I sh** you not. I have no idea what is going on right now. My universe just shrank and the only things here are the Monkees, Toni Basil and some ill-fitting cheerleader uniforms! Help!

So this is the video I remember from when I was like 6 or so, but if you feel like wasting another 5 minutes of your life, there's another one with her and her band that is equally (if not more so) bizarre. Toni's still a cheerleaper, but I'm not sure what the other costumes are supposed to be (take note of the drummer's hat and the guitarists torso cape.) And I'm definitely not convinced they're playing their instruments. But Toni's high kicks are solid in both vids so take your pic and cheer on!

Why didn't my junior high cheerleading shoes have those fun pom-poms on them?

Man On The Telephone

What ever happened to Papas Fritas? Man, I loved them. A lot. Hey Hey You Say was the first song I heard this morning (the result of an impromptu dance party to get Bug's mind off really wanting to watch TV) and I've been singing it ever since. Seriously, I loved these guys. Have I said that already? I mean, I wanted to learn to play mediocre drums so I could pretend to be Shivika when I was singing alone (and loudly) in my bedroom. Yes, I do realize I'm slightly the wrong color to be convincing, but still. Anyway, apparently they're still sort of around. Last year they did an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba (I will find this for Bug!) and they do have a Facebook page (even though there doesn't appear to be anything on it.) But I don't think they've put out a record in the past decade which is super sad. Cause I loved them. Truth.

On their website they claim to have toured so much after the release of Helioself that "we actually bent time and space and played as many as 3.56 shows at once in at least 7 dimensions." Apparently they too have seen Back to the Future one too many times. But if you look at their tour date archives it's easy to believe that it was in fact necessary to mess with the space/time continuum in order to play this many damn shows. And yet somehow I don't recall them ever coming anywhere near wherever I was in the late '90s or early double ohs. I would have totally been on the front row. Because...wait for it...I LOVED them.

UWPE4ZR8HD7B 

Don't Need Money, Don't Take Fame

Apparently I'm going through an 80's New Wave-ish phase. BUT, Did you know that Huey Lewis scored a perfect 800 on the math section of the SAT? And that he stowed away on a plane to Europe to backpack for a year with no money and only a harmonica? That he busked his way through Spain to earn enough for his ticket home? Or that he was studying to be an engineer at Cornell?!?

Anatomical references aside, I feel decidedly less uncomfortable about my rekindled (27 years later) love for H.L. and The News. And just admit it, when The Power of Love comes on, you are instantly transported to you favorite Back to the Future scene (H.L.'s cameo in the audition scene for the Enchantment Under the Sea dance, "Sorry fellas...I'm afraid you're just too darn loud") and you sing along. We all know you do. It's fine, I'm not here to judge. How can I when I do the exact same thing myself? I'm even toying with the idea of buying a synthesizer so I can totally rock these four chords in my basement. I don't have a basement. Anyway, let's just embrace "the power" and move on. And if you can't handle the cheese factor of Doc and Marty and Biff, then go watch American Psycho and maybe you'll feel a little better. Personally, I've always been a fan of the cheese. 

Pump that fist, Huey.

Deconstruct Me And Consume Me

Seriously? This is what Matthew Sweet looks like now? What the hell happened? I mean, not that he was ever going to be mistaken for Brad Pitt or anything, but clearly there has been some slippage here. And I'm pretty sure those shades circa 1996 don't fit any more, Matt. Maybe time to invest in a new pair? A larger pair? A pair that would take away from the superabundance of your face just a skosh? Just une petite suggestion.

So the song of the day is Sick of Myself. Yet another ditty that a high-school-aged me would have been belting out and playing air guitar to while driving too fast with a ciggy in one hand and the volume knob on my jambox-that-always-got-shotgun in the other. And they say texting and driving is dangerous? Pshaw! Also, an-almost-35-year-old me still does the belting-driving-too-fast-air-guitar thing when this song (and many others) comes on. Not the ciggies though. Those are bad for you. And holding one while air-guitar driving usually leads to something or someone getting burned. Just ask my old cars...and friends. Anyway, my point is, this song still rocks and Mr. Sweet used to be at least slightly more attractive. That's really all I have to say about this. Au revoir and sayonara.

They Say That The Road Ain't No Place To Start A Family

Faithfully, by Journey was on the radio while I drove to work this morning and I made the mistake of not changing the station. So now I can't stop humming it and my coworkers are growing more and more irritated as the day progresses. Sorry, ladies, but the power in this power ballad is compelling me to hum. Loudly. And often. Deal with it.

So the most interesting claim to fame I could dig up about this song is that it was used as an audition piece for the first winner of the hit TV show Pilipinas got Talent, Jovit Baldivino. ("Pilipinas," of course being the Filipino word for "Philipines." No, I don't get it either so we'll just leave that one alone.) The lucky winner of this show gets to take home 2,000,000 Philipine Pesos, which is roughly the equivalent of 47,510 US Dollars. So good on you, Jovit. You get to take a year off work! And at 16 he'd probably been working for a good 12 years or so, so one can only imagine his relief at his good fortune. In all seriousness, the kid can sing and has now recorded more albums than...well, than me. Which is not a huge accomplishment, but still. I wish him all the best. Suwerte at mabuting kapalaran, Jovit!

(And to my large following of Filipino readers, apologies if Google translator got that wrong. I don't actually speak your language. Cheers.)

I've Roamed And Rambled And I've Followed My Footsteps

Happy 100th Woody Guthrie. I had no idea you were born on Bastille Day (Vive la France, and all that.) Another fun trivia fact to add to the stash of useless information I'm collecting!

So yes, yesterday marks what would have been Guthrie's centennial and I've had This Land is Your Land stuck in my head since hearing Bob Edwards interview various writers and musicians about him earlier today. I could go a more serious direction with this post, considering the iconic figure that Woody Guthrie is in American history, but that would be totally out of character for this blog, so I'll skip the power-to-the-people-down-with-social-injustice stuff for the moment and just say "gee, what a catchy little tune." And it really is considering that it only has four simple lines of melody that just keep repeating. It's like a broken, but endearing, record. I remember learning it as a kid (the Peter, Paul and Mary version in the house of Moms and Pops) and now I can teach the Springsteen version to Bug. Maybe it's time to learn harmonica.

And as for Guthrie himself, the amount of words he left behind in the form of lyrics, letters, poems, books, etc. is kind of astounding. But out of the bunch I think this is the one I covet most. Cute little feller, isn't he? And what a fabulous way to embellish a letter. Too bad it does in fact render said letter more difficult to read, but hey, as the recipient you are now the owner of an original piece of W.G. art! Lucky you. Now how can I learn to do this with my emails so that when I die rich and famous you will all have something to take to the (piggy) bank?

I Hope That Someone Gets My...

...Message in a Bottle. Ah, The Police. Too bad no one told Sting to quit while he was ahead.

Random factoid of the day: drummer Stewart Copeland (arguably one of the greatest drummers of all time EVER) scored the film She's Having A Baby. That's like way less than 6 degrees from Kevin Bacon. I win.

Also, I'm petitioning Hubby for a gift from here for our anniversary. He makes fun of me for collecting bottles, but would he poke fun at bottles containing messages?!?! Yes, most definitely. Which is all the more reason to start collecting them asap. These guys claim to be the ORIGINAL message in a bottle shop. Does that mean there are others? Really? As Bug would say, "but why?" Is it really necessary to have multiple message in a bottle stores online? Apparently so. And apparently this store also sells Gators in a Bottle. Which just seems weird.

Anyway, the song. It rocks. Always has and always will. That is all. Now enjoy this video of the greatest drummer of all time EVER playing a chair, and revel in all the blond shaggy hair bouncing in perfect synchronicity! (Get it? Synchronicity?)

I Don't Wanna Wait

Ugh, this is just annoying. The theme song to Dawson's Creek. Over and over and over and over...I didn't even who the singer was until today (it's Paula Cole as if anyone cares) so why on earth is I Don't Want to Wait stuck in my head? I mean, to be fair, yes, I watched every episode of this show in reruns when I was in grad school (I'm a librarian, grad school wasn't that hard.) And, yes, I had a crush on Pacey. And, it's true, I shed a few tears when Jen Lindley (Michelle Williams' character) died. I mean, they actually killed her off in the last episode! Wha??? But I haven't seen the show since and I certainly am NOT a fan of this song.

I am a fan of this picture though. Makes me want to throw on a pair of khakis, kick off my shoes and go walk through a marsh or something. Maybe paddle a skiff across a creek to sneak in my bf's window. Have conversations with other 15-year-olds using extremely articulate, poetic metaphors constantly, without ever pausing to even appear to think about what I'm about to say ("The opposite of death is birth. Life has no opposite.") You know, all those crazy things we all used to do as kids. Right?

Come And Rock Me

So a couple of weeks ago Hubby, Bug and I headed to the Georgia mountains with some friends for a weekend of sweating profusely by the lake. At some point (for some reason) everyones' favorite Falco song (did Falco even have any other songs?) Rock Me Amadeus was downloaded and played repeatedly. Why did this happen, you might ask? Good question. I have no idea though. My hypothesis can be explained in the following equation: 2 grown men + 2 much sun * 22 beers = Falco. Seems logical, yes?

Depending on where you go to find the lyrics to this musical gem, the translation from the original German varies ("He was a Punker - And he lived in the big city" vs. "He was the first punk ever to set foot on this earth - He was a genius from the day of his birth.) But basically the gist is Mozart was the first legendary, punk rock, boozing womanizer...who also happened to be a genius. I'm sure the man himself would be fine with this depiction, so thank God someone finally got it right in 1985. And I'm sure he would have been thrilled with Tom Hulce's portrayal (beating out the likes of Mel Gibson and Mick Jagger (?) no less!) of him in the movie as well. Apparently he practiced at the piano for four hours a day to appear convincing. Hmmm, all that talent and now he's playing the voice of Quasimodo in a video game. Well, I for one will never forget him as Larry Buckman in Parenthood, but I digress. The point is this damn song that I can't even sing along to because I do not sprechen sie deutsch is stuck in my head and now it will be stuck in all of yours. Don't thank me, thank Falco. And the 2 grown men mentioned above.

Yes We're Going To A Party Party

So this one will probably be on a constant loop all weekend long. The Bug turns two tomorrow, so Birthday will be our dance party song for the event. In between renditions of the Hot Dog Dance, naturally. And in between swigs and gulps of the I.I. Brewhouse's (brewing since 2010) latest concoction, complete with inappropriate bottle labels of the Bug's bare bottom. I was told that next year it might be time to stop the bare bottom tradition. According to some, at 3 it would just be creepy. Maybe that's a good idea. I mean, I promise I would have stopped by the time he hit 15...probably?

I don't really have much else to say on the subject except really cliché things like "my how time flies," or "they grow up so fast," or "when the eff did I get so old??" or "no really guys, when the eff did I get so effing OLD?!?!" So I'll just leave you with this 2 minutes and 43 seconds of your life you'll never get back. I'm honestly not sure whether to love it or hate it. But I couldn't help but laugh at it, so there you go. Enjoy and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUG!!!

And It Goes Like This

Really, brain? Really? Maroon 5? What exactly is happening here? You think since this song throws in a little Christina that makes it okay? Well, it does. So you win. This time.

So, despite the fact that the only person in this video who definitely does NOT have moves like Jagger (but is winning in the unnecessary shirtlessness category) is the dude from Maroon 5, this video is actually pretty awesome. Hey, was that Kevin Nealon?! Anyway, I'm not sure why this one popped into my head today, but maybe it's because it's Friday and I'm ready for a dance party. Or maybe it's due to the fact that I hung out with a friend last night with whom I used to watch The Voice (grammar is fun!) Or maybe it's because of that I-Can-Dance-Like-Mick-Jagger-When-He-Was-Much-Much-Younger contest I entered. Such a mystery is the earworm...

True story: In college a girl friend and I were Rolling Stones roadies for one night (and one night only) in Charlotte, NC. It was super hard work, we were way out of our element (being like two of four women on the whole crew,) but we got to smoke weed out of a coke can with a bunch of foul-mouthed British stage hands in the middle of an empty arena, see the show for free, and get paid a butt load of money (or at least what seemed like a butt load of money to two broke-ass college lasses.) A good time was had by all and we survived to tell the tale. Somewhere I still have my sweaty wrist band. And somewhere else that British stage hand probably still has his coke can. And his wretched teeth.

There Will Be An Answer

This one is all Hubby. I think it was a couple of days ago when he just started belting out Let It Be for no good reason. Which was totally fine by me being an avid Beatles fan and whatnot. In fact, I'm pretty sure I joined in with some lovely harmonies. Yes, lovely is how I'd describe them. But Hubby's version of the lyrics seems to be slightly different than Sir Paul's and, alas, these are the ones that are stuck in my head. His version goes something like this:

When I find myself in times of trouble, 

Uncle Gary comes to me 

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it B-R-E-N-T

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be 

Now, please don't ask me what any of this means because I really can't offer any insight there. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have an Uncle Gary. If he does, I've never met him. And the whole "Brent" thing is just not something worth delving into here. All I can say is to know him is to love him. And also that he and his friends (who most likely totally understand the Hubby rendition of this classic tune) are decidedly O-D-D. Sorry dudes, but you know it's true. But, it's what makes you all so ... special?

p.s. Dear Hubby, please don't be mad at me for this one. I play, I play (in bad Italiano accent.) To make up for it (and to return the favor of making me laugh) here's this for you. You're version is def way better than his. But his hat basically rules. xoxo

Ghosts Appear And Fade Away

Irony. Gotta love it. When trying to drag myself into a conscious (or at least semi-conscious) state this morning, the lyrics I can't get to sleep... were in my head, where they have remained all day. The acoustic version of Overkill has been strumming away non-stop. Everybody loves Men at Work's Down Under, but I fell in love with Colin Hay in 2004. And I owe it all, as I'm sure a lot of folks do, to Zach Braff. Actually, according to an article from Rock Cellar Magazine (look at me citing my sources!) I owe it to Scrubs' creator Bill Lawrence who saw one of Hay's solo shows while filming the series and wondered why the hell his music wasn't on the radio. In an effort to change that and win Colin some air play, he put Hay in a bunch of episodes which lead to a BFF-style relationship with Braff (OK, maybe that's overkill...sorry, couldn't resist that one) which lead to Braff using his tunes in Garden State, which lead to a brief moment of obsession for me, with an undertone of why-the-hell-is-this-music-not-on-the-radio-itis? And there you have it. A star is born. Again. And even better this time around. So, thanks Zach. Preesh! Swearsies I'm going to see him next time his in the ATL. In all honesty I believe him to be one of the best singer/songwriter types around. A true artiste (spoken in a French accent, and with my nose in the air.)

On a side note, I really liked Scrubs. So here's the best of all worlds...or at least the worlds that are involved in this completely insignificant blog post. Enjoy.

Hey You With The Pretty Face

ELO's Mr. Blue Sky is totally appropriate for today. The sky is definitely blue, the sun is definitely shining and the air conditioner definitely just conked out here at work. I feel like I'm wilting. My fingers are so sweaty they keep slipping off the keyboard. We've all stripped as much clothing as is acceptable for a bunch of old lady librarians. It's gonna be a long day.

Fortunately it is impossible to both have this song stuck in your head and be in a bad mood at the same time. I mean really, is there a happier song? I think not. One might even consider buying the poster to keep the feeling going all day, every day! And somehow I didn't realize that Electric Light Orchestra front man and "global superstar visionary" (his quote not mine) Jeff Lynne was a member of the Traveling Wilbury's. The things I'm learning through updating this random waste of time...if anyone needs a partner for some sort of barroom musical trivia tournament, give me a ring. My store of useless knowledge is growing by the day.

Here's a good trivia question for ya: If I shaved the heads of every member of ELO when this song was written, how many sweaters could I knit? Bonus round: How many of these sweaters would resemble sweaters made from pubic hair?

Answer: Zero. I can't knit. Bonus: If I could knit, all of them.

Someone Stole My Brand New Chevrolet

What ever happened to the Pointer Sisters, you might find yourself asking? Uhm, nothing. They're still out there. Performing with symphonies around the globe, no less! Who knew? And they still look damn fine, I have to say. I wonder if Pops knows this. He used to love these ladies. So embarrassing.

Now, why do I find myself thinking about them this morning? Because I'm just burning doing the Neutron Dance. Yep. I found a new radio station recently (because my fave station was taken away (quel outrage!) and replaced by a 24 hour news channel...effing news!) and this was on the other day, and well, that's all it takes. Me thinks it might be time to fix the CD player in my car. Anyway, I'm a bit perplexed by this song. What exactly is the Neutron Dance and why does it burn? Sounds unhygienic to me. My guess is it has something to do with those glowing stick thingys they're dancing around with. Or maybe it's the result of excessively large shoulder pads causing some sort of rash. The fact is a neutron is an electrically neutral sub-atomic particle which, when coupled with protons, makes up the entire mass of an atomic nuclei. Clearly this subject makes for a great new 80s dance craze!  Everybody bust out your biggest shoulder pads and get your groove on! I'm (for some reason) on fire! Anyway, the appearance of this upbeat ditty in Beverly Hills Cop made it a smashing success, so good job Eddie Murphy.

Now, can somebody tell me the word for those glowing stick thingys? My mind is a blank and it's driving me nuts. Get thee to Google!