Archive for November, 2009

First of all:  sorrysorrysorrysorry!  I realize it’s been…oh, forever and a half since I posted.  I have no excuses, just regrets and a lamentably overscheduled life.  Please bear with.  I plan on running away to a remote location very soon and taking my laptop with me.  Suck it, life!

Anyway, today is November 21st.  As in, Thanksgiving is later this week.  As in, in Erin World, Christmas hasn’t started yet.  We are still in Fall.  However, this morning, as I was struggling into my pants (there is a story about how I slipped in some gunky stuff outside a frat house at Vanderbilt while attempting to tackle an inflatable lawn ornament and flailed around in it for a while, and as a result had to wash my jeans at least twice) I admitted to myself that actually, yes, this has been a tough couple of weeks and actually, yes, listening to the music I traditionally associate with eating, DRINKING, and shopping, as well as with sparkly, cocoa-soaked childhood memories, would make me feel better about it all.

So I unchecked everything marked “Holiday” on iTunes the way you drag out boxes of baubles during the first week of December.  And it as good.

While looping this glorious playlist, I thought of two things: first, that ever since she did the voice of the witch in “The Emperor’s New Groove,” I can’t shake the notion that Eartha Kitt is evil.  Listening to her version of “Santa Baby,” all I could think about was this:

Been an angel allll year...

…waiting by the chimney with a dagger.  And now that I’ve said it, that’s all you’re going to think too.  HA.

Second:  that song is kinda dirrrty.  Maybe my mind is in the gutter, irreversibly corrupted by one too many “That’s What She Said” comments, but if you actually listen to the words…especially the way Kitt sings it…well, let’s just say that the word “stocking” takes on whole new meaning, and then you factor in the hinted sexualization of a beloved childhood figure and then your head explodes and you just want to cry but the last time you broke down in tears at a family holiday function it dredged up a lot of underlying issues that, admittedly, needed expressing but it was at the expense of the amazing dessert course your mother worked so hard to perfect and it really wasn’t your intention to let everything come to a head right then but it seems like that is just the story of your life right now and is there more peppermint schnapps–


But I digress.


There is only one known antedote to the creepily burlesque nature of “Santa Baby.”  And that’s the Taylor Swift version of the song.


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So, it was brought to my attention today that while I possess a rather sophisticated level of cultural literacy, my pop cultural literacy is deplorable. I basically might as well not have been born in the ’80s, because all I remember from my early youth is leggings and Mad About You. Haven’t seen it? That’s because you didn’t spend all of your time with adults who were totally comfortable letting their 7-year old watch a show about snarky intellectuals in a bizarre relationship. If there is a movie, book, band, or TV show I’m expected to know about, I probably don’t. Some exceptions: Goosebumps (the books) and the Spice Girls.

I did, however, know all the lyrics to “Streets of Laredo” when I was 5. My dad taught me.

Things I grew up on:

Masterpiece Theatre

Mad About You

Movie musicals

ALL foreign films (Note: I did not know this was odd)

Star Trek (Voyager and Deep Space Nine, mostly)

John Irving books

–Leon Russell, Paul Simon, Joni Mitchell, Bobby Darin…

Yeah. I’m pretty cool. So, next time you make a Rugrats reference, or a joke about the Babysitter’s Club, please respect my total confusion. Thx.

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As background information for the disturbing photo which will be this post, I wanted to encapsulate Toddlers & Tiaras into a few short lines (to avoid adding my voice to the chorus of alarmed/intrigued protest in the blogosophere), so I turned to the go-to pop culture reference: Urban Dictionary.

Much to my surprise, there was no entry for the hit TLC show. But I did discover that the third possible meaning of “little bitch” is “when a guy likes making out with babies and his favorite show is toddlers and tiaras.” Excellent. Do you get my point? This show is bizarre. Tiny children are dressed in gaudy, objectifying costumes and taught to booty-shake and blow kisses before they even have permanent teeth. 5-year olds are put on diets by obese mothers in mu-mus wearing “I (heart) Dannika” shirts over their misshapen bodies. Closeted fathers in gauzy shirts and subtle eye makeup choreograph tap dances in their living rooms for little princesses in pull-ups. Even newborns, still purple from birth, are dragged onstage to dazzle the judges with their practically fetal cuteness. WTF, America?

Capitalizing on the wonderful combo of ohmygodthisishorrible + Ican’tlookaway that defines T&T, I gathered some pinktastic pieces at Buffalo Exchange, whipped out the ol’ Irish dancing wig, and made a “Lil’ Miss 4&Under” sash. Sometimes, having the face of a kid can come in handy…


Yeah, that’s right. Cringe. Now go TiVo that shit.

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