Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Super Random Tuesday #3

I don't really know what to write about today, but it's supposed to be random. I covered random songs from my iPod two weeks ago, so I'll continue upon that with songs that I am ashamed of liking. Yes, I know that this negates part of the randomness necessary for the entry, but I got nothing. Hopefully, the list itself will be random enough, but I give no promises.

Vanilla Ice - Ice Ice Baby
Who doesn't love to hate (or in my case, hate to love) this song? How did this little suburban boy become a rapper? It makes no sense. After a few minutes of scintillating rhymes, i.e. "poet" with "know it" (genius beyond anything imaginable), it conclues with, "Word to ya mother." I never understood that. Should I just walk up to my mother and say, "Word," before she smacks me for making no sense because she raised me better than that, and she didn't pay for sixteen years of private school education for me to run around spouting nonsense from my filthy mouth. But yeah, this song is quite shameful.

Gina G - Ohh Ahh . . . Just a Little Bit
It's so corny that I love it. That's all there is to it.

Gwen Stefani - Hollaback Girl
At first I hated this song. Then, as it was pounded into my brain due to obscene levels of air play, I began to like it. As my brain explained to me soon after, the song is quite catchy. And when I say "quite," I mean "super." The song is super catchy. Damn that Pharrell!

Black Eyed Peas - My Humps
Much like Hollaback Girl, I didn't particularly enjoy this song. In fact, it could be the most annoying song ever. In the world. In life. The problem lies in its damned catchiness. It really angers me that I enjoy this. It must be noted, however, that much of my amusement comes from possible interpretations of the lines. I've spent entire work days laughing about how they could be about a mammogram, and Fergie is simply asking her doctor to check for lumps (my lovely lady lumps).

Aqua - Barbie Girl
This song is so bad that I cannot help but love it. The best thing about it is that's how I think Barbie would sound if she could talk. (Don't even get me started on talking demon dolls.) When I first heard this song at the tender age of thirteen, I immediately thought, "I knew it! She is a slut!" This song justified my refusal of Barbie demons my entire life. Despite the shame I grew from enjoying this song way too much, it is overshadowed by my smug pride in never having been sucked into the Barbie doll hell that many of my contemporaries fell into.

While I am ashamed of liking these songs, I am not so ashamed that I only listen to them in my room, when no one else is home, on the speakers' lowest volume. Quite the opposite. These are the best songs to blast while driving around as though they were super-cool/gangsta, a la 50 Cent. It makes the pedestrians curious, and they look at me in a manner which seems to ask, "What is wrong with you? Why are you playing such horrible music so loudly?" And the answers are: So many things, and because I love it.

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