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!

God I Hope I Get It

Job interview this morning, so this refrain from A Chorus Line kicked in sometime after dinner last night and is still going strong.

I really need this job.

Please God, I need this job.

I've got to get this job.

OK, it's not quite that dramatic or dire on my end, but it sure would be swell if in fact (Please God?) I got this job. Thankfully after the interview, this refrain was not playing in my head:

God, I really blew it!

I really blew it!

How could I do a thing like that?

Unfortunately the fact that I do in fact know every step to the original choreography for this number and have performed it myself, isn't really something that adds to my current resume for Library Branch Manager. Unless someone makes my life story into a musical in the next couple of weeks...hey..."Able to leap stacks of books with a single jette, manipulate databases while doing a triple time step, download eBooks while pirouetting on point...it's Mary and her Magical Musical Library!!!"

No? Hmpf.

It's Frickin Freezing In Here, Mr. Bigglesworth

Honestly, there should be some sort of scientific method for determining the exact origin of an earworm. An algorithm of some sorts. If I'd done better in my studies of scientific methods, perhaps I would have developed one. As it stands, I simply remain baffled at the seemingly out of the blue songs that lodge themselves in my inner brain. If they were in the outer brain maybe they wouldn't get so damn stuck. I dunno. But I do know, for a fact, that I have not heard the Austin Power's theme song, or watched any of the movies in YEARS. And although the original was an oft-quoted source of hilarity for myself and my peers way back in 1997, I am certain I have not once quoted it since sometime around 2002 at the VERY latest. So, where on earth did this come from?!? Well, that's kind of like asking how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop (great, now I'll have that damn jingle stuck in my head.) The world may never know. However, the fact remains that this dance sequence stands the test of time. It is still awesome in all of its spoofiness (my blog, my made up words.) I don't care what anyone else says, it's true. And the part where our International Man of Mystery, after being chased by a frenzied mob of lovestruck girls in a Hard-Day's-Night-esque kind of way, surprisingly rounds the corner leading a full marching band still gets me every time. And it probably always will. That and the line "And when Mr. Bigglesworth gets upset, people DIE!"

Enjoy.

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it. 

You Were Always Waiting

Ah, the soothing lullaby, Blackbird. That's what's playing today and even though it's on a constant loop, it's hard to get tired of. It's the kind of classic that just instantly calms you down and makes you smile. And in fact I have been using this tune as a lullaby on those (thankfully) rare occasions when I'm roused at 3:30 a.m. to soothe a toddler's night terrors. Mostly because it's one of the few things I can remember all the words to at that time of the morning. But also because I want Bug to grow up an avid Beatles fan. And what better way to sway his preferences than by brainwashing him in a semi-conscious state! But rather than find some old footage of Sir Paul I found this performance instead. And don't worry (be happy) this dude (and his dreadlocks) is touring this summer! I'm not sure I can really say I "like" this, but I definitely give Bobby mad props.

Also, I know there's always the Beatles vs. Stones argument, and yes, I do like the Rolling Stones, but in my house it's not up for debate which one rules and which one rules a little bit less. There will also be no Doors (ick.) Them's the rules.

The Theme From...

...Dallas! Oh yeah. J.R.'s back. And thank God he brought the theme song with him. I totally admit to watching the new version of the Ewing drama and also to now being hooked. So naturally after a two hour viewing last night, this is what I woke up to. All I really remember about the original show was the opening song anyway, seeing as how I was like 2 and not really into the primetime-soap-drama (much to my father's surprise when he asked why I never watched the original with them...uhm, I was like kinda more into the Muppets at that time, Pops?) Nope, I don't know who shot J.R. nor do I much care, but I'm glad all these actors who are returning for the new generation are A) still alive, and B) unemployed and in need of a gig so badly that they're willing to play the exact same roles they did 30 years ago and be known for nothing else.

What I do know is this: the new opening has been a bit spiffed up, including the musical arrangement itself (what, no video-game-esque slap bass in the background anymore?) but it's still Jerrold Immel's original tune set to alternating scenes of shiny downtown Dallas (which also looks a bit spiffed up) and pastures of roaming cows (which really don't look any different than the cows from 1978, despite the HD.) Apparently Jerry was kind of the golden boy of theme songs in the 70s and 80s. Knots Landing, Walker Texas Ranger, Gunsmoke, Hawaii Five-0...clearly a man of pure musical genius. We should all be grateful his talents have survived the test of time. Even if half the cast of the original show hasn't. Ha! Get it?! Cause they're dead. Yeah. Well, welcome back Patrick Duffy.

Can I Dance With You?

So really the only part of The Trogg's With a Girl Like You that's stuck in my head is the "Ba ba ba ba baaa, ba ba ba ba" part, but this would be a pretty dull post if that was all I wrote. Not that my earworm randomness is all that riveting, but still. So, here's what I learned today about these guys. First of, they really like the F bomb. Second, they provided inspiration for one of the scenes in This Is Spinal Tap with their accidental recording of the infamous Troggs Tapes. And lastly, they really, REALLY like the F bomb. So the Troggs Tapes (if you're like me and didn't know because you weren't yet conceived at the time of their making) consist of 11 and a half minutes of the dudes in the band yelling obscenities at each other in the recording studio without realizing that they were in fact recording every word. And if you listen to it while thinking of Nigel Tufnel ("Well, it's one louder, isn't it?") and David St. Hubbins ("He was the patron saint of quality footwear,") you will probably laugh yourself out of your chair.

Oh, and one more thing. Reg Presley (The Troggs' lusty vocalist) wrote a book in 2004 called Wild Things They Don't Tell Us. It explores Presley's unwaivering passion for and committed research on...UFOs and cropcircles. Yep. So. There's that too.

And I Love Her So...

So, the Tony's were on last Sunday which naturally means I've been humming show tunes for the past few days, much to Hubby's dismay. That on  top of the Judy Garland movie marathon I decided to have yesterday has pretty much rendered my brain useless in terms of retaining any non-Broadway related material. The one song that has really stuck though is Gold from the musical version of Once. This show effing killed it at the Tony's. It basically won everything. And Glen-my-Irish-boyfriend-Hansard and Marketa-unfortunately-his-actual-girlfriend-Irglova looked so cute beaming from the audience. I loved this song in the original movie version (starring and featuring music by Glen and Marketa), but the staging here was pretty fantabulous. Not too much show, lots of live musicians, very Irish. Lots of stomping. So go grab a Guinness, a shot of Jameson's and admit that sometimes musicals aren't that lame. I mean hell, I could've posted something from the musical of Ghost but even I have to draw the line somewhere. Yeah, you're welcome for that.

Don't give cherries to pigs or advice to fools.

 ~Irish Proverb

Huh?

It's Time You Had The Talk

This one's been stuck in me noggin for several days and I'm just now getting around to writing about it (purging it!) in hopes that the music will be temporarily silenced so that I can think about something else for a while. Like dolphins. Or pizza. Or the ungodly amount of laundry I need to do. Or dolphins.

Anyway, The song is Call Your Girlfriend, but it's not the original that has wormed its way into my ear (sorry Robyn, but you'll have to take your gym-floor-gyrating-self elsewhere) but this cover by some lovely Swedish lasses who like to play delicate drums on empty tubs of butter while singing in perfect three part harmony. Of course they do. Who doesn't? Anyway, it's kind of hauntingly beautiful and is apparently an Internet sensation now with all kinds of men, women and children doing their own rendition of harmonies with butter-tub accompaniment. Fascinating the fads that catch on these days. Kind of makes me want to get the band back together so we could give this one a try. Guys? You out there? Well, I'll be here...eating butter...you know, to prep our kits. Call me.

Don't Pay Him Any Attention

Here we go: I woke up this morning thinking about a ring. Not just any ring, but a ring that was my grandmother's that was supposed to be mine a decade ago, but because my mom likes wearing it (and a decade ago I didn't give a flip about fancy jewelry) I still don't have in my possession. Why I was thinking about this ring I have no idea. Like really, this is way out of the blue. But then I started thinking that it would be cool whenever I do get it to use it as my wedding band. Not that I don't like the one I have (honestly, Hubby!) but just to add a little more bling to my left hand. Naturally all of this thinking about bling and rings got me singing All the Single Ladies while fixing my morning to-go Cup o' Jo. And now it's stuck in there. And as usual, this song really doesn't make me think about Beyoncé in a unitard, or even Andy Samberg in one, but the last episode of Glee. I know, my brain...but it was cute and funny and stuff and I'm a big ole musical-TV-show-loving-sap. So there you go. Put a frickin' ring on it.

Fine, Fresh, Fierce.

Very vivid and disturbing dreams left me (shockingly) sans earworm this morning, so to make up for a lack of musical randomness I decided to check out the website Birthday Jams. Supposedly you can put in the date of your entrance into this world and the site will tell you what the #1 song was on that most glorious of days. I have not even remotely attempted to verify if this info is correct, but I'm feeling trustworthy (read, lazy...don't judge it was a long weekend!) today, so what the heck.

On November 2, 1977 the #1 song was none other than Debby Boone's You Light Up My Life. This is awesome. Mainly because I do in fact light up most people's lives, but also because her name is Boone. So check it out and think of me whilst you listen.

On March 1, 1975 (Hubby's grand entrance!) we had The Eagle's with Best of my Love. This too is awesome because Hubby hates the Eagles. Ha!

And finally, July 7, 2010 (Heeeeeere's Bug!) California Gurls by Katy Perry and Snoop Dogg. Yes! This is totally appropriate for a baby! I have no idea what Candyland on steroids has to do with this song, but hey, Katy's boobs are made out of ice cream and lollipops, so who cares! Amazing how music changes in the course of three plus decades, isn't it? Anyway, I guess this one's for you, Bug. But you're not allowed to watch this video until you're 18. Yes. I know. Parents just don't understand.