In honor of Jimmy Fallon's brilliant "Robert is Bothered" series, this is "Cosmo is Bothered."
-It bothers me when your crush subconsciously insists that he should date every girl who looks and acts like you, but is not you.
-The morning bothers me. To quote SIR David Cook, "The morning might not be the devil, but it sure is a low level apprentice."
-Justin Beiber, he bothers me...I know he's continuing the tradition: Breaking into teen land with a new, signature hairstyle. That *Nsync bleach look was cool when I was in 6th grade and let me tell you, it was a straight path to my heart. To all the girls who are just learning to shave, I know that thump thump you feel when you see Beiber's hair tossled flat against his forehead. It's intense. It hasn't been long since I've felt that way about a boy's hair. Have you seen Joe Jonas's new cut? Hot Dayum! Anyway, his manner of forwarding pop star hair isn't what bothers me. It's the fact this kid thinks he can stroll out of the womb and be Jesse McCartney 2.0. Don't mess with the Jess. JMac is the country's most underrated triple threat. (See: My Baby and "Keith" ) In addition, with a crow's feet adorned smile he can make you feel like "the hottest girl in the world today"...even if he's loving up on another girl. So, now Bieber is going to have to suffer the consequences, no iTunes purchases from Cosmo. I know you're gonna miss that dime of royalty. In other news, see ya boy at the Z100 Jingle Ball on Friday! Woot Woot!
-It bothers me when People Mag recycles their Sexiest Man Alive. Much love to Depp, Pitt, and Clooney, but let's get some fresh meat on the cover. The well-seasoned filet is getting Zzzzzzzz.
-Getting ready for bed bothers me. It's almost an oxymoron. Why do I need a fresh face and minty breath for my pillow? Is this some hot date? Well, actually I do sleep with an Orlando Bloom pillow.
The devil hangs out in the dark, red-velvet, candlelit dressing rooms of rock concerts. I can assure you, as a Jonas Brothers fan wearing pink Hannah Montana panties under my hard-shell rocker outfit, it was the scariest place I've ever been. After that experience, I knelt down to my Tiger Beat centerfolds, shed some tears, and thanked my sweet Jonases. Team Halo! The angels sitting on fluffy clouds aren't singing "Sweet Cherry Pie" (I assume), but some day there will be one. Gather around the 'puter screen for the story of the halo-wearing rocker...
Once upon a 2009, lives a rock angel in fairy tale stone house in a mystical land 20 minutes outside Baltimore. He has well-fed Cullen eyes of pure amber rimmed with black coal and a smile Tom Cruise would envy. When the light shines through his long, golden brown curls, heaven makes an appearance on earth. When he opens his mouth to sing, all the townspeople throw their hands up in praise and...bang their heads. This, people, is Mike Ruocco of Cinder Road. The third and final Supreme Being as declared by me and Blondie Woods.
^I'm beginning to worry myself.
Cinder Road's stage show is masterful. Mike's idea is to throw back to the age of arena rock. They want to infuse the glam again with pyro, lights, and guyliner. Perhaps it can be thought of as a hetero-version of Adam Lambert...*whispers* perhaps. Take guitars, add a sweet pop vocal (yum yum), mix in some hooks, and you've got yourself some delicious, hot Cinder Road. You'll feel like you're at a Def Leppard concert in the 80's. Teased hair, red lips, and black leather are optional, but I would encourage it 'cause it's universally flattering. I'm actually not joking.
"Should Have Known Better" was the 2nd single off their "Superhuman" album. It's one of those CDs you can listen to straight through without hitting the skip button. Buy it on iTunes!
It's hard to pick, but my two favorite tracks are "Feels So Good" and "Back Home To You." (See below) These two rank among my top 5 fave songs of all time, so once again I'm getting serious. Holy crap! I'm so passionate right now! I'm shoveling in leftover macaroni and cheese because I frustratingly can't find words to describe this. I want to sit down with every person in the world blessed with ears and promote the shitocki mushrooms out of my favorite band! (Hanson and C.R. have been tied for years.) When Cinder Road opened for Daughtry in the spring of 2007, they blew baldie off the stage. Sorry, Chris-erz. Heart u. No band deserves to live out their sold-out-arena-dreams more than Mike and the gang. If you like what you hear, please support them!
Today is vampire day! Today is werewolf day! Today is mortal day! Geez, Bells, why do you have to take the supernatural out of things? I woke up this morning and softly muttered my first thought, "New Moon." Then I peaked out the window to see it was the perfect rainy, Forks-like day here in college-land. Later I did my make-up trying to be all vamp *Think Rosalie beautiful* and failed. I some how ended up with my hair in a Leah Clearwater wolf braid. I suppose my conscious surrendered to my inner wolf. Truth is, I am wolf 75% of the time. I sorta kinda considered putting sparkles all over like Limited Too circa 2001, but I'm not sure whether or not this midnight showing I'm heading to is gonna all Harry Potter/Star Wars-esque freaks. Right now I've got my black peacoat collar popped like a vamp. I could make a rap song about that. "I've got my collar popped like a vamp, popped like a vamp yo."...Or at least it could work for one Andy Samberg's digital shorts.
I was in my media law class today picking at my nails, holding my J.O.N.A.S. pen between my fingers, nothing out of the ordinary. Then BAM! The next slide up on the screen is New Kids on the Block vs. News America Publishing. I almost choked on my pumpkin flavored coffee and my face contorted severely out of joyful shock. My professor called me out on it. I just said, "I love them." I figured it wasn't the right place to burst, "Donnie's like my uncle, and Jordan totally creeps on me (but I don't mind *wink*), and Joey's full of advise...and and and *sigh* they're my friends and no one knows how to make my heart burst or my smile so wide and permanent quite like my NKOTB boys." But then again, I was forced to respond with the standard, impersonal, "I love them."
*Sitting on my bed pondering how I'm going to describe the indescribable feeling that is New Kids*
It all started five years ago with those famous 1988 music notes "Oh Oh Oh Oh, Oh Oh Oh Oh." Little Blond Cosmo (my sista) and I had that infectious tune replaying in our heads thanks to VH1's "Band's Reunited" commercials. Long story short, one song turned into iTunes's whole NKOTB stock. You know how they say time machines don't exist? They actually do. We invented it. We were emerced in a happy boy band land that ended 12 years earlier, equipped with oversized t-shirts, hella-big fan-girl buttons, and lots of scream-inducing pelvic thrusts. Blondie and I were completely cut off from all people living in present fall of 2004. I'm pretty sure Mom didn't want to be associated with us in public when we wore our favorite fashion staple, the acid wash NKOTB jean jacket with a huge neon scrunchy.
Blondie liked the pierced-nose, rat tail wearing bad boy who made out with fans from the stage, Donnie Wahlberg. You might also know him as the guy "Who's afraid when he's alone" from The Sixth Sense. And, NO, he's not Johnny Drama!!! Back on topic, I liked the the Vampire-esque Ken doll frontman with hair to rival JFK Jr.'s, Jordan Knight. We would go to dinner with friends, our Donnie and Jordan purses made from NKOTB bed sheets draped around our shoulders, and want to go home ASAP. That's where the time machine primarily resided. Time machine=some sort of combination between NKOTB Dolls+VCR+Old VHS Tapes+Fireplace+NKOTB sleeping bag...BTWs I was 16 and really mature, ya know.
Phases fade, but we'll never forget the warm, snuggly fall we spent with Joey, Donnie, Jordan, Jon, and Danny through a TV screen and our minds. We reluctantly accepted the fact the five of them would never exist in actual reality as the New Kids on the Block again. (Our time machine was getting faulty :/)
...Until the announcement in Spring 2008 that they were reuniting!!!! If only Cosmo circa 2004 could have seen what Cosmo in the fall of 2008 would experience! This past year would mean nine concerts, an album that will forever be a
classic in the Billboard section of my mind, and crew passes aka all access. I'm not Perez Hilton.
I'm not here to gossip. (Ey yo Perez-y, LEAVE JON KNIGHT ALONE! *Chris Crocker Style*) There's nothing to gossip about except these guys deserve every ounce of love and success they've ever received.
I've met enough celebrities to tell you, no one treats their fans as well as NKOTB. It goes far beyond Donnie's kisses for everyone. The warmth we felt five years ago was legit.
My point in writing this blog: 1) Thank God, Even Crazy Dreams Come True! (Thanks to Carrie Underwood for the quote) 2) To promote a band who too often gets written off as some cheesy, has-been boy band, when in reality should have won the Grammy for Best Pop Album last year. The Pussycat Dolls, Lady Gaga, Akon, and NeYo all knew what they were doing collaborating with the Kids on the September 2008 release "The Block."
Why talk "The Block" when you can listen to it? I've talked enough tonight and far more seriously than I have in the past. Got all mushy and sentimental. In the words of DDub, "Positivity is not about being soft, it's about being smart...you suckkkkaaassss!!!!" Take that as...LISTEN TO THE FREAKING YOUTUBE VIDEOS FUTURE BLOCKHEADS!
I'm re-posting this from last month's pop music blog. No one doesn't like this song. You think "Party in the USA" puts your hands up? Psh.
In the words of Randy Jackson, "WE GOT A HOT ONE HERE!!!!" Seriously, what has RedOne (the industry's most sought after producer right now) cranked out that wasn't hot?
Play it in NYC's 1Oak. Play it at your trashy frat party. It's mind blowing everywhere.
This is for you R&B peeps out there. The New Kids are stunting my humor. This is serious shiznet here. Great stuff.
The Rest of the Best: I'm assuming you've heard "Summertime", being you were probably alive last summer. You may or may not have heard their sweet second single "Single" (haha) with NeYo. You probably didn't hear their third single unfortunately "2 In The Morning". It might take a few listens to develop a great appreciation, but it's one of the strongest tracks on the album along with being the most meaningful lyrically. For the Lady Gaga fans in the crowd, we've got "Big Girl Now". And if you're feeling a little bit Twisted. Tell me how you like the songs!
...a girl crush. I'm a fan of the XY chromosome combination (I think you can tell), but that doesn't mean I don't girl crush. As a 13-year-old suffering from a unibrow and in desperate need for concealer, I wondered what this burning desire to speak, sing, dance, look, dress, and carry myself like Britney Spears was. We didn't have the term back then to clarify this normal fascination a girl has with another girl, while still wanting to make-out with her boyfriend. (Ey yo Timberlake, I'm still down for that. I've been waiting for a decade.) Britney is as classic as a Wendy's cheeseburger when it comes to being the object of female affection for our generation. Along the years, I've wanted to be other girls. My tendency to linger over pictures of Kim Kardashian too long must branch back to my Princess Jasmine/Aladdin complex. Sometimes I wear blue contacts and pout showing my teeth, like Adriana Lima and Megan Fox. (Let's keep that pouting thing on the D.L.) And before any presentation I have to give, I tell myself, "You are Taylor Swift. Be Taylor Swift," 'cause no one wins over a crowd like T-Swizzle (so long Kanye isn't present).
...to go to the movies on a Friday night with your best friend and a pound of Taco Bell wearing the world's most atrocious pair of sweatpants.
...to have a gay guy friend to quote Titanic with, dress up like Adam Lambert, and always tell you look fab!
...a backstage experience. You need to feel what it's like to slap that backstage pass sticker onto your black skinny jeans like it's no big deal and watch the evil glares that follow. You need to know how it feels to be led backstage by an assistant having no idea what the night has in store, except the fact your feet are going to die a painful death in your black heels. You need to know what it feels like to be sitting on a tour bus with your teen idol as he goes on about old cartoons and candy bars. You need to know how it feels like to hang with a spikey, blond haired pop star as he sings about his sunglasses while you try to hide your swoon. AND you need to discover that food from catering is the best food in the world, even if it's not... BTW, no groupie/band-aid business, k? Classy, not trashy.
...some time lying on your Camp Rock sheets and Zefron pillows, with Hanson blasting, new magazines/JFK Jr. biography, and a warm, pumpkin latte at your side. *Adjust sentence to fit yourself. You get the idea.
...a very messy night in NYC where your BFF mistakes the Empire State Building for your Upper West Side hotel. This should only happen after a string of stressful, prim and proper nights which you spent desperately seeking the attention of Prince Charming. If you emotionally ate an oversized gourmet cupcake in front of Charming after spending 3 months starving for him, you get an extra drink on messy night.
-As if Nichols Sparks isn't going to torture me enough by forcing me to stare at Channing Tautm's devastatingly stunning, married face for two hours in one of his epic romances, I predict a Jack Dawson-demise. Cue the ugly, gasping-for-air cry. Nevertheless, the potential perfection of this movie makes me feel like I'm going to chemically combust. Let's start the countdown to the release date: 91 days P.S. Nicholas Sparks is Walt Disney's partner-in-crime in creating unrealistic male characters.
-Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" will rule the world, even if the less-edited version is far better than the iTunes/official release. Just want to say, I've been listening to this song for a month now. Just like I was listening to "Poker Face" long before you (aka the general public) caught on to "Just Dance." And I saw Miss Gaga in concert even before you learned she's not a fan of pants. Ohhh Cosmo just got defensive! P.S. Early adapters are coolie. *Kisses*
Enjoy the "dirty" version you won't be hearing on the radio in constant rotation.
-Two things I dare you to do today for happiness!
1) Sing (or shriek)/perform wide-mouthed, Mick-Jagger- style in the car at a red light and hope the person next to you sees. People get some guilty pleasure when they think they've caught you.
2) Put on an upbeat Michael Buble' song. I know your iTunes library is stocked with Crooner Babe 'cause you're a classy chica. Turn the volume all the way to the right. That means crank it bay bay! Then dance around the house. You'll feel straight out of "The Notebook"...sans Noah.
I thought I should let you guys know I've had my annual cleansing. I'm so refreshed! Ew, no, I didn't get one of those nasty colonics or go on a crazy detox program. A month without chocolate and coffee? Let's get real now. I went to Church of the Musical Gods otherwise known as a Hanson concert. Before you can say anything like, "MMMBop? Those guys are still around?" Shut your ignorant mouth! Not only are they still around packing House of Blue-like venues with their absurdly loyal fan base, they provide spiritual, out-of-body experiences for the low price of $30. I guarantee your yoga class isn't serving up nirvana like this. You think I kid, but you didn't see the entranced girl bumping into people as she slowly pulled and pushed herself against the railing without any relation to the beat.
When the lights go down there are 5 things you are aware of: The music, your soaring spirit, Zac, Taylor, and Issac...but mostly Taylor. Actually, I can't even joke about this stuff. Despite the fact that Taylor Hanson was the original Supreme Being and continues to be the commander-in-chief of the S.B.s, Hanson, is like a peace sign. They are three different, but equal parts (in talent, at least) that work together to create perfect harmony (pun intended).
Hey look, if a dirty blonde pounding on the piano dressed in a simple tee with a half a pound of necklaces draped around his neck doesn't do it for you or a drummer who runs his fingers through lush brunette locks does nothing to peak your interest, I can chalk it up to bad taste. Sucks blackholes for you! But if sweet melodies, inspirational lyrics, lifting choruses, and angelic voices aren't your thing, then God wasted a good pair of eardrums on you. They would make a great Christmas gift for a Beethoven-like musician out there. Consider the donation.
If more of the world were Fansons (Hanson-Fans) there'd be less war; case in point, Bono is a fan. I'm also pretty convinced there would be no Swine. I swear my sinuses were clearer during that Tuesday night concert, than they are after
three powerful squirts of nasal spray. Further physical effects the Masters of Melody induce in their fans include going all evangelical with their arms in the air, palms facing out. The "If Only" jumping sets off a laughing gas reaction and it's so easy. You'd think the venue floor was a spring board. The "If Only" jump can result in such muscle relaxation, total loss of bladder control is quite common amongst Fansons. To clarify, the peeing in the pants phenomenon, comes from the gleeful state of the natural high. It's not as if Fansons are predetermined with weak bladders. Then again, I'm not confessing that I've had first hand experience with this weirdness. Just stuff I've heard, ya know?
Cosmo's Top 4 Fave Hanson Songs (at the moment):
I'm a sucker for a piano driven song. "Georgia" wins. It's best listened to driving at sunset on a warm day.
"Crazy Beautiful" was my original favorite Hanson song when I rediscovered them in 2004 post-"MmmBop." It's unbelievably warm and feel-good.
Ohhh, the melody. This song is a musical injection to the soul. Like the lyrics in "Been There Before" describe, you just feel it.
"Lost Without Each Other" makes you want to dance around on your tip toes while "cheesily" pointing to someone you love, with that embarassing, I'm-really-feeling-this-song expression on your face.
A few more things I'd like to thank Hanson for before finally wrapping up:
-Thank you for being fans of brunettes, yet I'm not thankful that you're all married to brunettes.
-Thank you for your obsession with Tom's Shoes (before they got all trendy), your barefoot walks, and all other things African-aiding. Seriously.
-Thank you for procreating like wet Gremlins, so my kids can be spiritually cleansed by Hanson Part II. (Amongst the three brothers, there are 7 children)
-Thank you for being so kind to the world's most famous Fanson, the beautiful and talented Taylor Swift. I know her heart flutters with every tweet.
You know those girls who wake up impossibly fresh looking? They're annoying. That's not me. Currently my skin is sheding off rattlesnake-style thanks to some illegal dosage of bensoyl peroxide. (Yes, my overdosing drug of choice is acne medicine. Doctor's orders.) I'm convinced it takes 12 hours for my nighttime puffiness to drain away. And it's quite possible my eyebrows would grow down to my lids without tweezers. I'm sure you've now concluded that I've kept myself annoymous because I'm some Fiona-like ooger who wants "The Swan" to re-air so I can emerge as the Bratz doll I've always aspired to be. Let me as modestly as possible assure you that I've been licked, and sort of mildly molested by a rock star (quite the story), who was once married to one of the world's most desired women. Did that disclaimer clarify things? What I'm trying to say is as self-deprecating as I may be, beauty is simply a CVS ride away. So I thought I'd suggest some beauty "necessities." Follow my suggestions and you might just find yourself sexually frustrating a glam rocker.
-Like I said, I wake up every morning looking like I was chilling with Bradley Cooper and the guys from "The Hangover" in Vegas the night before. So to minimize puffiness as fast as I can, I use Roberts Cucumber Gel and Garnier's Skin Renew Awakening Face Massager. The real cure to puffiness I've come to learn is just time being awake and moving.
*EDIT* DON'T use Guardian Angel, cause it's secretly the devil in disguise. It sent the front strand of my hair to hell when it burned off with the curling iron this past weekend.
-Maybelline lipstick. It doesn't matter what kind or shade. Maybe it's Maybelline? No, IT IS MaYbElLiNe, fo shizle my nizzle.
-You go to Costco for lots of toilet paper, cleaning products in bulk, of course food samples, and bronzer. I know, you're like "What? Costco Bronzer?" Trust me. It's good stuff. Not orange-y, but bronzy. It's mineral too.
-Ever since Royal Caribbean moisturized my lips to cloud-status 6 years ago with their personal brand of lip balm, I've been obsessed with soft lips. Three years ago Royal Caribbean discontinued their lip balm. This meant I could no longer harass our stateroom attendant for 12 tubes of the miracle worker on our annual cruise (don't worry, I sent them a disappointed e-mail). I embarked on a mission to find the second best lip balm. After buying every brand I could find, I've found two that are up to par. Betty Crocker Fudge Brownie Lip Balm is moisturizing and stays on for a long time and the bonus, it smells/tastes like brownie. You'll want to give yourself a kiss! I found it at Limited Too while browsing for Jonas Brothers baby tees. Banana Boat's Aloe Vera with Vitamin E lip balm is also very good. It doesn't taste like chocolate, but it's easier to find in stores.
So here's a confession that some people would call a guilty pleasure, but I quite honestly don't feel an ounce of shame. I LOVE soft rock/adult contemporary music. Ya know, the parents' station, but not exactly the oldies station. Oh how XM's The Blend treats me well. I don't just love the cool stuff like, Billy Joel, Elton John, The Eagles, who are all personal faves of mine. (Don't even get me started with Don Henley's solo stuff! It's like a Hersey bar for my ears!) I love the uber cheesy stuff too. When Richard Marx comes on, I legit say aloud, "Ohhh heck yes Richard Marx!" Come on, you know you love some Foreigner, Chicago, Rod Stewart. There's just no way you change the channel when you hear "Maggie May." If it says, "Playing all the hits from the 70s through today," I'm probably staying tuned. (Unless they play that awful, overrated LeAnn Womack song "I Hope You Dance" which belongs where it came from, country radio.)
I'm not some 50 year-old cubicle worker, so no, I don't listen to this around the clock. It has its designated times. Long night time drives, early mornings when Top 40 is too peppy, and rainy days are all appropriate.
VH1 has compiled their list of the 40 Most Softsational Soft-Rock Songs. In my opinion, some are "heck yeahs!" and some are snoozers. Check it out if you miss the days of riding around in the backseat of your dad's car.
If this scene from my favorite summer movie of 2009 "500 Days of Summer" doesn't put a smile on your face with Hall &Oates classic "You Make My Dreams Come True," you, my friend, should make an appointment with the Wizard of Oz. You need to get yourself a heart.
Richard Marx-One More Try - Click this! Click this! Click this! If you don't I'm blocking you from my blog. I know you'd shrivel up and die without it, so click. I discovered this song about 4 months ago and I don't know how I lived before this godsend. This isn't "Right Here Waiting"-style Richard Marx. I'm just going to go out there and confess, if I were born a decade earlier, Richy would be up there with Jordan Knight on my crushes of the '80s list.
Every month I look forward to Glamour magazine's "Hey, It's OK" page. If you're not familiar with it, it's a page of things you shouldn't feel guilty about. So I'm going to take a stab at writing my own.
Hey, It's OK...
-To binge on the fattest foods on the day of a test or presentation. It's a reward.
-To count down the days until Nick Jonas's 18th birthday. 342 Days. Hey, guys had a countdown for the Olsen Twins.
-To tell the guy at Dunkin' Donuts to put "a lot" of cream and sugar in your coffee.
-To still yell "GET UP!!! HURRY!" when you're watching any of the Rocky movies for the zillionth time even when you know the outcome.
-To hate your celebrity crush's celebrity girlfriend while they're dating and then totally develop a girl crush on her when they break up. *cough* Taylor Swift *cough*
-To scream so loud your neighbors think there's an intruder in your place when your favorite contestant lands in the bottom three on Idol.
-To get annoyed when your horoscope is bad and doesn't include you meeting the man of your dreams, even if you don't really believe in that stuff.
-To become interested in football when the team your dad, boyfriend, etc. roots for gets a hot new player. You might just end up loving the sport! (Thank you Eli!)
-To throw baby powder in your hair two days after washing it...on occasion.
-To have such an intense parasocial relationship with Jay Leno that you call him Uncle Jay. Conan is the crazy, "pull my finger" uncle.
Today, October 6, 2009 is ear bliss day for me. My mind is in musical heaven as I type this. My Mac-y and Bose are bummin'. The new Blake Lewis CD came out today and *shriek circa 1999* THE BACKSTREET BOYS!!! What? Did you just laugh? *Virtual Slap* I would like to know why pop music is often so disrespected.
You know who you are, you music elitists (that's what I call you). Side note: I actually don't foresee music elitists surfing my Elle Wood-sy blog. So dear readers, I'm not pointing my yous in the proceeding paragraph at you. I love you for your presumed appreciation for hand bumping beats and boy-band-silky harmonies. I'm just letting out some frustration that has been building up for a few years in music industry classes.
Music elitists *Finger Point*, you think you're so intellectual with your non-mainstream music tastes. You "know real music." Music needs to pull out deep emotions from your dark insides. It's serious. It doesn't make you smile. (For the record, I think music should evoke an array of emotions.) You think the names on the radio are all sell-outs. Once music gets pumping through the airwaves, it's not legit anymore. You think signing with a major label and getting you're name out to the masses means losing your soul and surrendering all musical creativity. You never think maybe the artist actually likes pop music and wants to surround themselves with the best producers and songwriters to further improve their craft. No, never. People who like pop have no originality or depth...at least not when it comes to music.
I think they should all shut up! The only time I would judge someone based on music taste is if they didn't have any passion for music.
Now, for all my peeps out there who appreciate a sweet vocal, a steering-wheel-drumming beat and a song that makes you, without a care, roll down the windows and sing your lungs out, even when stopped at a red-light, I've got some songs for you!
If it weren't for the boy band stigma against these "comeback kids," "The Block" could have been male equivilant of Lady Gaga's "The Fame." The producer of all of Gaga's hits, RedOne, produced 7 tracks on the New Kids on the Block's 2008 album.
My Mac-y might be tired of playing Jesse McCartney's new single "Body Language" since it's my most played song in iTunes library currently, but my ears aren't tired of it at all. I've been listening to it for six months and when it comes on the radio, I still crank the volume and "hand dance" ('cause that's what I do). Be prepared to be hearing a lot of this one. It was last week's most added song to Top 40 radio.
If the Backstreet Boys latest single "Straight Through My Heart" doesn't start getting more rotation on radio, it'll be a shame. It's one of the most pulsating pop songs I've ever heard. "Bye Bye Love" is BSB's next most single-worthy track of their latest album "This Is Us."
Seriously, who doesn't love Michael Buble'? I love him, my dad loves him, my grandma loves him. If you don't follow him or listen to adult contemporary radio, you might miss this classic feel-good pop song.
I could give recommendations all day, but I'm going to let you relish in that series of pop greatness for a while. I'll be back with more endorphin-releasing tunes in a few days.
Why do people in the gym look like those earbuds are emitting no beat? If it were up to me when "Opps I Did It Again" comes up on my iPod on the elliptical, I would start pumping my arms in front of my chest Brit Brit style. When my ultimate get-your-ass-in-gear-song Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations" comes on, it's shocking I don't yell, "Come on come on Mark! I feel it! Feel it baby!" Thinking about Wahlberg in his Calvin Kleins circa 1994 is a motivation itself. I have his work out DVD. Never worked out to it, but I've enjoyed it from the comfort of the couch many of times.
At the gym, I always look to my side to see a girl in a standard, boxy tee moving steadily, seeming like her mind is blank as she stares straight ahead at the white wall. So I must look like a fool when my arms involuntary fly up when Miley sings "So I put my hands up, they're playing my song!" and I have to play it off like I needed to wipe my forehead.
I'm not some bouncing gym rat. I simply go into hip-swinging, pop star mode otherwise known as "what you do in front of the mirror with the door locked." You should try it. It's "good like Sunkist!"
I can't talk about American Idol with you. I just can't. Ever feel so passionate about something it's hard to describe your feelings to someone who doesn't feel the same passion? So hard, it's frustrating and pointless? That's Idol with me. So accept it. I guess I must really be in love with the show because it's a feeling that can't be articulated in words. Sad, yes. True, oh so true.
That being said, I don't even know why I'm going to share my weekend activities with you. I saw David Cook in concert. For those who have the misfortune of not having Idol or the radio in their lives, David won Season 7.
David has a half smile like Edward Cullen. In his presence, you feel unworthy and let's be honest, you are unworthy (k, I feel unworthy. I can't exactly judge you.) David is a crier. A man crying CAN be attractive in certain circumstances and he succeeds. David succeeds in life. David can pull off a plaid shirt with an A+ and a pound of necklaces. David loves crossword puzzles and children. David has no idea how hot he is. David wins epically when it comes to between song banter. (Don't you hate it when you go to a concert and the artist doesn't talk to the audience? I think it's very important in creating a connection. When there's no banter, it's impersonal.) David has the male version of Angelina lips....And on that note I will conclude. Now see for yourself.
Watch carefully at 1:33. Slight smile and wave. You'll dream beautiful dreams girls. (If there's a straight male looking at this blog, I'm wondering while you're still here two paragraphs in.)
Warning: May be hazardous to health. Side effects may include loss of breath, heart racing, and excessive day dreaming.
Speaking in such detail about my favorite American Idol was difficult, so you better have enjoyed it.
Dear Walt, when you came up with the concept of Disney princes did you intend to ruin lives? Because you might have ruined mine. A couple of weeks ago, my friends and I were watching Disney montages on YouTube. (Yes, this is a completely legitimate way to spend a Saturday night. In case you're curious) We decided that you, Walt, have set the bar way too high for men. They're not these perfect creations as you've depicted. They don't take you on dates to the world wonders on a magic carpet or even take you out on a row boat accompanied by singing animals. Regardless, since the age of three, you and your world-dominating company has burnt that image into my mind. Now, I'm on the mission to find Prince Charming (actually, I don't care for him, I'd prefer Aladdin).
Growing up, kids learn that cartoons aren't real. Now the destroyers have found a way around that. They find real-life cartoons that serve as cat-nip for young girls (or uh, 20-somethings with really good taste). Zac Efron. Disney actor? Yes. Prince? Yeah, probably.
Oh, the JoBros. Disney!!! GRR! Do you have a science lab in the basement of Cinderella's Castle that cooked up this entity? They're the perfect gentleman, hence princes (ya know, kinda). Sure, you can chalk that up to their faith and awesome parents. But, Disney, what's you're excuse for this resemblance? Hmm?
I grew up thinking I was Jasmine. Let's just say, the boy to the right owes me a magic carpet ride.
You'd never know, but I celebrate Halloween at least once or twice a week. Like last week, I was Bella Swan. Don't make fun of me!! I got this actual Bella jacket from Nordstrom. It's the same one she wears in Twilight. The sad part of all of this is not only did I wear a Bella outfit and light Bella make-up, I kinda took on her demeanor for the first part of the day. I walked to my class pretending I was walking into Forks High School, with my head modestly hung, looking down at my feet. Last winter, I thought maybe I'd come back to school, walk in to a classroom, sit in front of a computer, and check up on my teeny bopper sites. Then some shimmery, freezing, stunning vampire boy would sit down and turn to me and say "Hello. I'm Edward Cullen." It didn't happen.
Anyway, back to dress-up. I regularly pretend to be Taylor Swift. Ya know the get-up. I'll curl my hair, wear 20 bracelets on one wrist, wing out some heavy eye make-up, wear a sundress and some cowboy boots, and strap a guitar around my shoulder. I kid. I kid...I don't rock the guitar.
I'm currently wannabe-ing Megan Fox...you don't even want to know.
-Gay guys: Adam Lambert. Come on. Completely legit crush. Lance Bass. I was a sucker for spiky blondes as an 11-year old. Bet you were too. Clay Aiken. Don't judge, America was a Claynation of Claymates...Ok, judge freely.)
-Teachers...yeah, let's not venture there. As a warning to high schools, hiring a 24-year-old Justin Timberlake-esque teacher with a killer sense of humor will serve as a distraction to teen girls.
-Edward Cullen. He's a vampire. He's fiction. He's perfect.
-Celebrities
-Joe Jonas. Yes, he has a category of his own.
-Aladdin. A cartoon crush that has evidently followed me into adulthood (See picture of above listing)
-Married guys. Eli Manning and Taylor Hanson, that's directed toward you.
You see a pattern?! I'm apparently freaking enamored with unattainable men. Can't have them? LOVE THEM! My mom thinks I should call a shrinky-poo. Well, just when I think I can't find another category of unattainability, I find one... Dead Guys...Married Dead Guys.
This man is no ordinary dead guy either. He was the most unattainable and desired man in the world when he was still living. The actual Prince Charming. Walt Disney couldn't have even sketched him up. You know who I'm talking about. The beautiful Prince of Camelot John F. Kennedy Jr...
K, ladies, let's let out a big sigh. Have a moment of silence...I was gonna keep writing, but suddenly I'm at a loss for words looking at People's 1988 "Sexiest Man Alive" cover stuck to my wall.
R.I.P. JFK Jr. Can we have a date in heaven? You can pick me up at the pearly gates. ;)
...to go to the movies on a Friday night with your best friend and a pound of Taco Bell wearing the world's most atrocious pair of sweatpants.
Hey look, if a dirty blonde pounding on the piano dressed in a simple tee with a half a pound of necklaces draped around his neck doesn't do it for you or a drummer who runs his fingers through lush brunette locks does nothing to peak your interest, I can chalk it up to bad taste. Sucks blackholes for you! But if sweet melodies, inspirational lyrics, lifting choruses, and angelic voices aren't your thing, then God wasted a good pair of eardrums on you. They would make a great Christmas gift for a Beethoven-like musician out there. Consider the donation. 
-Like I said, I wake up every morning looking like I was chilling with Bradley Cooper and the guys from "The Hangover" in Vegas the night before. So to minimize puffiness as fast as I can, I use 
-Ever since Royal Caribbean moisturized my lips to cloud-status 6 years ago with their personal brand of lip balm, I've been obsessed with soft lips. Three years ago Royal Caribbean discontinued their lip balm. This meant I could no longer harass our stateroom attendant for 12 tubes of the miracle worker on our annual cruise (don't worry, I sent them a disappointed e-mail). I embarked on a mission to find the second best lip balm. After buying every brand I could find, I've found two that are up to par. 
