I tried to give up/cut back on caffeine in November. Today, I’ve decided that effort was futile, and my general outlook on life has drastically improved after a very dry cappuccino. I don’t think that’s coincidental. So, in my hyped-up state, I wanted to touch on a few things briefly that I may expand upon later that I’ve been thinking about over my over-a-week-long blogging hiatus.
1. Royal wedding hysteria.
My thoughts generally boil down to: stop that. Admittedly, I find televised wedding-related shenanigans super boring– except in the case of Say Yes to the Dress, which, like everything on TLC, makes me get all self-righteous, or if they’re really quirky/adorable, and then even I can only be so cynical. I mean, I’m sure it will do good things for England’s economy, but really. It’s a wedding. A really gratuitous wedding.
2. VH1 Divas.
I’m on the fence about this. I like that they’re giving people like Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and Nicki Minaj (whose album is my studying guilty pleasure) a chance to show their talent and that the roster is diverse at every possible level. Including caliber of musical talent!
I don’t like to make fun of women who are just doing their thing, and I know she knows her music is shallow so I won’t call her out on that, and I find “Teenage Dream” and “Firework” super catchy– but, really? Katy Perry? On VH1 Divas? She has like a three-note range*. And she has more than enough exposure so it’s not like they’re showcasing an up-and-comer, and she’s not going to go down in history as one of the great vocalists of our time any more than Ashlee Simpson or myself will. I just feel like so many talented people could have been chosen in her place. Particularly ones who have never released songs titled “Ur So Gay.”
*And yet this doesn’t stop me from singing/car-dancing to “Teenage Dream” like a total doofus on a regular basis. Remember the movie version of Josie and the Pussycats with the subliminal messaging conspiracy? I think we may have a case of that going on here.
3. Christmas music.
It gets old. Fast. But I would like to take the time to attempt to call a moratorium on a particular song: “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” I thought this song was adorable for a long time, because I love a good jazzy Christmas song (let’s be real, the only real reason Christmas in my life is to gorge myself and listen to Frank Sinatra, because I never, ever do those things during any time of year.) And God knows I loved the Zooey Deschanel Elf version as much as anyone. But… have you listened to the words of that song? Like, intently? Because it’s weirdly date-rape-y and kind of makes light of consent. I don’t like that– and I like the song, but since I’ve noticed that? RUINED.
Now that I’ve swooped in and done my feminist-Grinch schtick, here is a palate cleansing/apologetic carol, courtesy of Dean Martin.
