…because if they were, there is no way that they would allow YouTube to suggest Rebecca Black’s atrocious-excuse-for-music song, “Friday,” to be the top suggestion after I finish watching The Beatles’ “Helter Skelter” video.
The saddest part is that the “Friday” video has over 140,000,000 views. 140. Million.
I think the universe is simply letting us slowly destroy ourselves.
Taking a long, hot shower while listening to the Abbey Road medley was the best idea I’ve had all week.
(Medley starts at 3:08.)
I’ve been listening to this album – and the Beatles, in general – since I discovered them at 14 years old. Just like any person who loves a particular band or music (whatever it may be,) this album plays to me like second nature. When I listen to it I know which lyrics come next, where Paul’s voice will go into a falsetto, how George will play his guitar as THIS particular point…No matter how many times I’ve listened to it, it still pumps me up. So yes, there was singing in the shower. And air guitar. And an impromptu drum solo in lieu of drying myself up.
………sigh…………this music literally brings joy to my soul.
The Eurovision song contest, held in Düsseldorf, Germany this year, is Europe’s yearly homage to…well, lets call it “singing.” It’s a “big deal” in Europe – at least from what I can gauge here in Greece – where the news broadcasts allot time to discuss Greece’s preparation, our chances of winning, the performance…….blah, blah, blah. I’m putting myself to sleep just talking about it. Here’s a question for the newscasts: aren’t there more important issues to discuss than Eurovision? Our song is not even that great. Scratch that: our song is crap, get over it and report some actual news instead of this televised karaoke mess.
Based on Internet report the winner of the 2011 Eurovision contest is Azerbaijan. Here is video of the winning song:
So basically, Eurovision takes all the crappy auditions from American Idol and sends them out on a stage. We need a Simon Cowell intervention, STAT.
Also, let me just make clear that I did NOT watch the live broadcast. I was at my sister’s when it aired and actually got up and left. I went home and had more fun watching a Beatles documentary. I couldn’t really even watch the entire winning video this morning. My oatmeal was dangerously close to coming back up.
So last night I finally had the house to myself. When you live with your mother those rare nights are like a little treasure; they’re like a stolen diamond, destined to stay in its hiding place save for those few times when you can take it out of its hiding place and spend all night admiring. And so that’s what I did. I invited my sister and our friend Athanasia over for a girl’s night – a Californian girls’ night, to be more specific.
Athanasia, who a GA (Greek-American for those unaware) is from San Diego, California, goes by the name of – what else? – San Diego. Aren’t we clever? My sister, naturally, goes by the name of Oakland, and I guess I’m just too special to have a nickname like that. Let me correct myself – I was given a nickname but can no longer remember it…. Anyways, you know the nickname situation is out of control when calling your friend by her nickname seems more natural than calling her by her actual name.
So we spent a nice evening in my yard talking in English – and what a beautiful feeling it is to let the English just roll off your tongue – truly it is. We had homemade guacamole and tortilla chips and for the first time ever we attempted to make frozen margaritas with much success. Basically we recreated an evening out at Chevy’s. We instituted a two-drink minimum and it was delicious. And we supported my sister (who can’t drink due to pregnancy) by drinking her share of margaritas.
And of course to set the mood we played some music – Eminem’s new CD, “Recovery.” Because you know that’s the top music choice for three white girls. And a white girl singing hip-hop lyrics is probably not the best thing to experience. Especially a white girl over 30. And especially these lyrics:
“Can’t wait to get you in my Benz/ Take you for a spin/ What you mean we ain’t f**kin’/ you take me for a friend?”
Blame it on the alcohol.