Wednesday, March 9, 2011

cheers to weddings and Ke$ha

Disclaimer: This is kind of a girly post...but I pepper it with words like "poop"...there is something for everyone. 

This week has been a big best friend got engaged on Monday. I AM STOKED. Not only because I really love weddings [Tangent: Its like a party on 'roids], but because Kristen is basically like my second sister and I couldn't love her "fiance" any more than I already do [Tangent: I have known my best friend since before I started grade school. There are pictures to evidence this tucked away on some 110 film in a box in the top of my mother's closet. Of this I am certain. We played Barbies on the sidelines of our brother's soccer games, and I was jealous because she had Peaches & Cream Barbie. She remained friends with me despite my horrible braces and I overlooked her allergy to her eye glasses, which left her eyebrow area in a constant state of irritation. That's love. Josh, I liked from day one...mostly because the first night I met him, we got into a very lengthy conversation about the intricacies of PBS kids show Ghost Writer. (ex: Why did the kid's always have such pristine handwriting? Was Ghostwriter a penmanship Nazi?) That's love, as well.]. To begin my duties as a good little maid of honor, I did the preliminary buying of copious wedding periodicals today. While eating dinner and flipping through them, I noted that the hot new trend in bridal must be posing like you are about to poop yourself. I guess I understand the concept of couture posing, but it would never make me want to buy something. Bitch face doesn't help either. 

proving that gas pains and formal wear can coincide.
All the bridal stuff was not the beginning of my estrogen enriched day, it began much earlier with my morning wake up dance in my cubicle. I have a confession to make...I may or may not have bought the Ke$ha cd on for $3.99 the other day. [Tangent: Ke$ha dropped out of my high school. We never attended at the same time, because I am old. The first time I saw her was on SNL, and I sat agape at her onstage trainwreck. Behold:]

Befuddled by her Evil Knievel jumpsuit, I found a seat aboard the anti-Ke$ha train. Eventually though, that money signed moniker won be over, at least at the bargain price of $3.99. How can you not love such poignant lyrics as these?

Your just an old man
Hitting on me what?
You need a cat scan
I threw up in the closet and I don't care
Cause we're young and we're broke
And I can't find my coat
And the sun is coming up
And oh my god I think I'm still drunk
(Where's my coat? Where?)
I'm keeping quite the collection
Take nothing less than perfection
Cowboy boots, cowboy boys
Mmhmm oh the joy

OK. So she's no Dylan...but sometimes you have to leave the shackles of intelligent pretension behind to violently cubicle dance to songs about sloppy drunken ballyhoo. [Tangent: I like to imagine the more practical, responsible version of Ke$ha songs...singing about moderation with lyrics like: "I'm kinda buzzing so I'd switch to water...somebody's gotta be the designated driver." Something tells me that would not get one a best new artist grammy nomination.] Keeping true to my Lenten promise, I have decided that this unapologetic thing should be all-encompassing, so I hereby admit to indulging in a little terrible overproduced music from time to time, as much so as Miss Ke$ha is unapologetic about throwing up in closets. This love really shouldn't be that shocking, these are the same footholds that caught me with Gaga and Katy Perry [Tangent: Additionally, I am generally about 6 months behind on popular music because I don't listen to pop radio. Songs that make people wanna pull their ears off, like Hey There Delilah or anything Bruno Mars has a hand in don't get old to me because I only hear them occasionally. When I hear these songs, its kind of refreshing, but always makes me feel like I am either Amish or in some End of Days cult. ] One can't always sit inside their glass house wearing their summer scarf or ironic facial hair, sipping their fair trade coffee....occasionally one just craves some good ol' gas station coffee in a non-biodegradeable cup. Such is Ke$ha.  She's like gas station coffee with glitter and cigarette butts floating around in it, that may give you a cold sore. Gotta love her.

One more Ke$ha lyric to leave you with: 
Now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger

Really, Ke$ha?

If you wanna get in my frame of mind, check out the following:


  1. oh, kimmie jone$. you are $o hip the$e day$.

  2. I wonder if Ke$ha's dancers and band members were ashamed or annoyed by their get-up on that SNL performance. Horrified because--well, look at it! And annoyed because they would have to leave this appearance off their resumes to avoid future employers googling it and witnessing the ridiculousness.

  3. I love this post. One, because I ordered a wedding dress before looking up the model and she is exactly in that pose, except somehow even more ridiculous/unnatural looking ( Two, because I freaking loved Ghost Writer. And all those PBS shows. I think you need to write about awesome educational television from the early 90s... Carmen Sandiego, 321 Contact, etc.

  4. She went to elementary school with my step-sister. We spent the winter holidays looking at yearbook photos of lil' Kesha.


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