Ok, let's cut to the chase. It's Friday. On Fridays, we
I have never made a secret of my adoration of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad pop music. Is it embarrassing? Sometimes (and by sometimes I more accurately mean never). I am that girl at the bar who interrupts your regular Friday night Pitbull dance party by putting old school *NSync on the jukebox. And you know what? Seven times out of ten, I am not the only one singing my head off, nor am I alone in recreating the choreography of "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" and "Baby One More Time."
My only fear is that the 21 year old younglings think of these contemporary pop classics as, "vintage party jams," much like my friends and I freaked out every time "Take Me Home Tonight" and other songs of that ilk came blaring through the TKE basement speakers, spurring everyone to break into spontaneous Pat Benetar-inspired windmills and generally creating a ruckus ("Can you describe the ruckus, sir?" ::coughcough:: "Was that the ruckus?" Oh John Hughes, how I miss thee).
It is with this love in mind that I must make the following confession:
Every Friday, without fail, I listen to Rebecca Black's "Friday" at least twice.
I KNOW.
The vocals are robotic, the tune is annoying and the lyrics are complete rubbish. These are all the exact qualities that draw me to it. Make of that what you will.
When the song first debuted, I initially thought it was meant as clever satire. With the likes of Ke$ha's "Tik Tok" dominating the Top 40, it was a perfectly-crafted mockery of the ridiculousness spewing from our radios, worming its way into our ears and causing us to bungle totally bizarre lyrics such as, "drop my keys, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack," and bringing nonsensical words like, "sizzurp" into the modern-day lexicon. Surely, I mused, no one could have ever penned the words, "tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday, comes afterwards," without tongue planted firmly in cheek. I'm still not entirely convinced that they didn't.
Yet I love it anyway.
I tried to hate it. I really, really, realllly tried to fight against this ...noise... but I couldn't. It's just so perfectly awful and campy that it appeals to my inner sixth grade nerd who is painstakingly applying eye glitter across her brow bones and parading in front of a mirror while warbling into a hairbrush. Though there is no amount of money in the world that you could pay me to repeat that era of awkwardness, I do occasionally miss those simpler times when my biggest weekend stressor was figuring out which seat I could take on the bus. Now I have to juggle errands, laundry, cleaning and long runs while maintaining a social calendar that involves a decent amount of day-drinking.
Sometimes, being a grown-up is hard work.
I also feel less guilt about this little pleasure because, despite getting off to a bit of a rocky start, Rebecca Black seems to be doing alright for herself in the grand scheme of things. She's appeared on one of those vocal voting shows and has something insane like 50 million views on YouTube. And if nothing else pans out for her, she can rest assured that someday down the line, there is a high likelihood that people will have figured out that it's way more annoying to Friday-Roll their unsuspecting friends than to surreptitiously lead them to that other classic earworm.
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| [Source: UrbanDictionary.com] |
And so, I shall continue my little Friday tradition of gifting my coworkers and Andrew the masterpiece that is "Friday," while reminding them that it could be way worse. Harlem Shake, anyone?
PS- You're welcome.
PPS- Happy Easter to those celebrating this weekend, and Happy Passover to my Jewish friends!
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