Okay, I have to ask: what the hell is with this jazzed-up TJ Maxx jingle? I've got the radio on right now and it's playing the latest TJ Maxx commercial. They took one of my favorite commercial ditties from back in my impressionable youth and turned it into a grating blight on the eardrums! I mean, sure, it's just a commercial jingle, but it used to be catchy like an infectious pop hook, and now it's just catchy like Dengue Fever.
Whatever. Don't you hate it when you're walking down the street and people you don't even know start staring at you, just because you're talking to yourself? I hate that. I mean, it's not like I'm one of those guys that shuffle around in mid-June wearing a full-length faux-leopard coat, a straw hat, and a pair of novelty sunglasses while mumbling about how the candied leprechaun can't change his pants after 3:00 -- I just like to rehearse my arguments! And don't tell me none of you rehearse your arguments. All intelligent people practice their confrontations in advance, because if you don't, then you go in unprepared and you risk drawing a blank at a crucial moment, thereby losing the upper hand and being unable to regain control and make the many valid points you have at your disposal, simply because you didn't organize ahead of time.
And it's not as if I go out into crowded areas and start shouting at no one, like, "Well, I can't believe George would say something like that! Who does he think he is?" I'll just start thinking about the possible confrontation and how it might develop, and then I'll be like, "Okay, so if she opens with that, I'll be forced to take the offensive, like this -- 'Oh really? You have a problem with the fact that I haven't called you since I moved here? That's funny, because I had a problem with the fact that you haven't called me since I graduated from school two and a half years ago, so I guess we're even. Come to think of it, I also have a problem with the fact that you couldn't even find the time to say goodbye to me when I left town, so how about that?'" And that's inevitably when I look up and realize that I'm speaking out loud and the lady at the bus stop is staring at me all rude-like. I mean, jeez, if you want to stare at something, go get a pet lizard.
Also, and this is back on the topic of infectious pop hooks, I have recently found myself in the position of being forced to reevaluate my opinions on one prominent pop star by the name of Miss Christina Aguilera.
See, I never liked her. At all. I'm not a pop music fan anyway, so I shouldn't be expected to be a fan, but I was particularly turned off by Christina Arugula. Back in the day (1997-2000), I was MTV's whore. I mean, I used to charge home from class, turn on the TV, and let my eyes glaze over as TRL came on (now, I wasn't a TRL fan, per se, but it's the only show on MTV that actually shows music videos anymore). Thusly, I was front and center for the teen pop explosion, and I was able to amply review the works of Britney, Christina, Mandy Moore, N*Sync, the Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, Shriek McScreechy -- excuse me, "Jessica Simpson" -- et al.
And let me say this about pop music: it's not my genre, but I respect it. A lot of people I know get all disgusted and go, "It's not even real music! It's just crap, and blah blah blah," and whatever, dude; your parents say the same thing about the stuff you listen to. Plus, those kids work their asses off! Have you seen Britney dance? Yowza! However, my admiration of teen pop stars was always mitigated by the fact that I was repulsed by their fans. I mean, I have my own celeb obsessions -- Zach Braff, I'm looking at you...through a pair of high-powered binoculars from the darkened backseat of a slowly-moving taxi cab -- but the hordes of frenzied, teary 12 year-olds pushed me right to the limits of my mental health.
Anyway, I admit that Hit Me Baby, One More Time had me bopping my head (sidebar: it just started playing! How eerily prescient.), and I would hum along with Bye Bye Bye, and I even found myself singing songs like Mandy Moore's seminal Candy on my way to class, but whenever that blasted Genie in a Bottle would come on, I'd roll my eyes and change the channel. I just couldn't take its overly-processed melody, or Christina Anaconda's oppressive warble, so off it went. Then we phased into the days of Oops...I Did it Again and Crazy, both of which I found inoffensive and peppy, but then What a Girl Wants would come on and I would scream at the top of my lungs to drown it out as I scrambled for the remote control. I've only heard her last single, the humorously titled Dirrty, once, but I confess I catch myself singing it from time to time. Although, I don't know any of the words so it comes out more like, "Shalala, na-nah na-nah, dirrty!" but who cares?
Anyway, things continued at this clip until I ultimately lost interest in MTV (there's only so much TRL one guy can take, dude). Well, last night I got home from work and flipped on the TV to keep me company. Nowadays my default channel is FoodTV, but when they're playing something lame (there's only so much Emeril one guy can take, dude), I'll revert back to my old days and check on MTV.
So I turn it on, and this video starts. At first I'm like, "The hell?" because there's this frighteningly skinny girl standing there, and then a painfully skinny little boy, and just when I'm wondering if I flipped to a documentary about undernourished children in the Scandinavian Shield, Christina Appledumplinggang appears. So I start to titter about her bizarre latter-day Debbie Harry make-up and freaky latter-day Debbie Harry coiffure, and odd facial piercings that are so 1969, when she starts singing her new single, Beautiful.
To my utter surprise, the song was lovely. I mean, it was a pretty melody, she kept the octave surfing under control, and the message was very uplifting. For those of you who haven't heard (or seen) it yet, it's about challenging societal standards of beauty, body image, and propriety, which, if you think about it, is incredibly weighty and responsible subject matter for a musician with a wide teenage fan base. Anyway, among those victimized by social pressures and ostracized for their individuality are a young girl with frizzy hair and braces, the anorexic girl, the scrawny boy who desperately wants muscles, a young woman disillusioned by fashion magazines, a goth boy, and a middle-aged drag queen. Needless to say, I was quite surprised to see a transvestite (and a serious transvestite, not some frat guy in a bad wig with giant, rubber bazoongas, either) in a video from a pop princess, but not half as surprised as I was to see the two young men locked in a steamy clinch on a public park bench. And this was no "vague hints at alternative sexuality and then a quick edit to spare the audience's delicate sensibilities", this was full-on french kissin' in the USA, here.
So, basically, I've had to reevaluate my whole position on Christina Ambidextrous. I mean, let's face it; pop music is not notorious for being representative of or friendly towards social misfits. Most of my social misfit friends look upon the Britney/Christina faction with disdain, but here Christina Alanparsonsproject has managed to create an anthem that embraces the differences of the various misunderstood subsets of society with compassion and support. Plus, she pushed the issue of sexuality literally into our faces, without making it just a coy subtext, and didn't apologize for it (and on a purely shallow level, it was pretty hot, too).
So, you go Christina -- you get mad props from me! Although I'm still not listening to What a Girl Wants. Sorry.