I Can't Forget the Lyrics, Holiday Redux

I've been meaning to write this forever, but sometimes...life, man. Whatever. It's pretty boring. I got a promotion! Because my boss moved away, but I'm sort of killing it regardless, so it counts. Anyway, I've been distracted. Until now! I've been compiling my Year End Spotify Playlist, which I just capitalized the first letter of each word like it's a fancy thing I do each year. It's not. But it is a wonderful opportunity to revisit some lyrics I loved, loved to hate, or absolutely did not understand.

My Story -  R Kelly f/ 2 Chains
Problematic Lyric: This is my story/yeah I'm from that Chi town dirt/I went from being broke/To sleeping in Versace shirts.

I don't so much have a problem with this as I do a question: Does R. Kelly own a drawer full of Versace nightshirts? (Are there Versace nightshirts? Can someone get Kanye to design theVersace nightshirt?) Or does he simply end most days by passing out in the Versace top he'd been sporting all day? Either option is delightful.

Also, his new album is amazing, if simply (like most things R Kelly related) for the mere fact of its existence. At one point he claims that every baby in the 90s was conceived to his music. Which might not be entirely off-base.

Fine China - Chris Brown
Problematic Lyric: It's alright/I'm not dangerous.

I hate Chris Brown. And I REALLY hate that he makes catchy ass music that I car-dance to a whole bunch before I realize what's happening. This track is like, particularly wrong, though.
He's just lying. Look at that - I'm not dangerous.
Oh, really, Chris Brown? You're not? Are you not the same dude who beat up your girlfriend and then got a COMMEMORATIVE NECK TATTOO OF THE EVENT? Fuck you.

How Many Drinks? Miguel f/ Kendrick Lamar
Problematic lyric: How many drinks would it take you to leave with me?/Yeah, you look good and I got money/But I don’t wanna waste my time/Back of my mind I’m hoping you say two or three/You look good, we came to party/But I don’t wanna waste my time

This song raises like, a host of red flags. First, as Kyle and I have repeatedly discussed: ladies love Miguel. Like, we love Miguel. And why shouldn't we? He makes jams. His hairstyles are consistently creative. When he was a guest coach on The Voice, he seemed like a legitimately lovely young man. He is the best. And he knows what ladies like! We like him. Anyway, this song has me wondering if he realizes all this. Also, if maybe he needs to look elsewhere for ladies. And also like maybe when he's at the club he's sort of a panicky jerk. Let's break this down:
a) How many drinks, Miguel? Zero drinks. It will take zero drinks to get that lady home. It sounds like you're in a club, so she's probably already had a drink. You're fine. You're Miguel! No one needs to drink to want to spend time with you. I bet your shoes are amazing.
b) Are you on a schedule, Miguel? Time management seems like an issue for you. Not money, though. I don't really understand this dynamic.
c) Miguel, this seems like a terrible strategy. Biggie told you: let that other guy go buy the wine, then creep up from behind and ask her what her interests are, who she's there with. You know - things to make her smile, and what numbers to dial. Don't make her guess at a magic number of drinks like it's a fucking carnival game. And what if she wants four drinks? Is that okay? What if she's like 'five drinks'? Besides the fact that she's drunk now, is that a deal breaker? She needs to know beforehand, exactly how many drinks?
d) Wait, is this normal? Do people walk around the club assigning How Many Drinks to other patrons? I am so happy I never go out anymore.
e) I don't know. Miguel says he came to party, but I really wish he would just like, hang out and enjoy the night. This all sounds really stressful.

Bad - Wale f/ Tiara Thomas
Problematic Lyric: Not the lyrics - just the metal bedspring that creaks in the background throughout the entirety of the song.

WTF is happening in this song. Are they in an abandoned house? Is this mattress from the 70s? Wale. Aren't you a rapper? DON'T YOU HAVE A POSTUREPEDIC?


BEYONCE*.
There is a new Beyonce album. I haven't bought it yet, because I think iTunes is stupid and I won't watch any of those videos more than once, but it's fine because Beyonce can do whatever the hell she wants. It is a completely true fact, that every emotion you've ever had about a boy, Beyonce has a song for. EVERY EMOTION. I love her. She completes me.

I'm sure I'll love the whole thing, but for now I've only heard what they've played on Hot 97's morning show:

Drunk in Love f/ Jay-Z: I have no idea what's going on here, other than Beyonce and Jay have a fucking WEIRD TIME when they drink, and they seem to enjoy the hell out of it. From what I can put together, they wake up on the kitchen floor post-blackout, continue drinking, retire to a half-filled bathtub for some adult time - for which 'surfboarding' is apparently the chosen euphemism in the Knowles-Carter household - then Jay Z eats her boobs for breakfast.

Obviously I prefer the Jay of a simpler time, when he boasted about acquiring Magnavox television sets, rather than his personal art collection and Twitter beef. That said, dude is a grown ass man and has nothing to prove to me. But it is really nice to know that even if he isn't popping Molly (ugh**) he's still down to occasionally get inappropriately drunk with his wife and make what sounds like an ungodly mess for the staff to clean up the next day.

Mine f/ Drake: Is this a song about post-partum depression? An emotional trial I've never had! Beyonce is a GENIUS AND WE'RE LUCKY SHE SHARES HER EXPERIENCES TO BETTER PREPARE US FOR OUR OWN LIVES. Also, I suppose if I were to pick any male artist to collaborate on a song about post-partum depression, it would totally be Drake. Well done, Bey.

Merry Christmas and shit!



*That Beyonce and R Kelly released new albums within two weeks of each other is my Christmas Miracle.
**I think my deeply judgy attitudes regarding Molly can be chalked up to some old lady hater issues, since it really came on the scene after the time in my life where I'll be trying any new drugs. Like, that's it - I'm not going to be trying any new fun shit. My body simply can't take it. My body recently brought to my attention that I can't even drink through hangovers anymore. That's off the table. Getting older is sort of like slowly realizing you're a superhero, except your abilities are only revealed as you lose them. I think Molly represents all of that for me. 

New Holiday Alert!

I am a super duper Mariah Carey fan. I know that's not exactly cool, but there is no part of me even remotely ashamed of revealing my insane love for that crazy bitch's music. I just dig the shit out of it. My first concert was her Music Box tour when I was like, 11 (thanks, Momma!) and I think I could karaoke about 90% of her musical catalogue. No one was happier when she made her Emancipation of Mimi comeback. Seriously, Mariah Carey is one of my top votes for living national treasure. That bananas voice aside, the woman is endlessly entertaining. Odd relationships with celebrities? Check. Duet with ODB and Boyz II Men? Yup. Bizarre marriage? Double check. Nervous breakdown? Check. More number one singles than fucking Elvis? Yeah, that too. Jesus, have you seen her Cribs episode? It is the most creepily entertaining profile to date. She walks on the balls of her feet the entire time, has at least four wardrobe changes and at one point, climbs into the damn bathtub with a towel on. It's fantastic. And remember the Honey video? Jesus, I love when this woman goes to work.

So, confessions of love and adulations of her insanity aside, I must admit that I've never been able to keep track of how old she is. My brother and I have this debate every time a new video premieres, and we just had it again while watching her newest video with TI (it's the MTVJams Jam of the Week). The discussion always goes like this:

"Dude, how old is Mariah Carey?"

"Fuck. I never remember."

"Me neither. Is she older than we think she is, or younger than we think she is?"

"I can't remember that either. How old do we think she is?"

"Shit. I don't know. I just know we're always wrong."

"Well is she 40 yet?"

"She has to be. I mean, by now? She must be."

"We do this every time."

"I know. Hang on. I'll look it up."

So I looked it up for the 82nd time, and discovered...Mariah is 38. Besides the fact that she looks incredible for 38, we realized that it's going to be a really big deal when she finally does hit the big 4-0. So in our house, we're going to celebrate. 40's for Mariah in recognition of her 40th. 40 ounces will be consumed, and a reasonable attempt made to watch 40 Mariah videos. When we run out of videos, we can always just YouTube the Cribs episode, and the time she went on TRL and freaked Carson Daly out by stripping and handing out popsicles or whatever the fuck she did. We will not, however, be watching Glitter. Even I can't get through that shit. And I've sat through Showgirls. Twice. I forgive you Glitter though, Mariah. Even national treasures make mistakes.

Anyway, you're all invited to participate. March 27, 2010. 40's for Mariah on her 4oth. Right. Were working on the exact title.