Goddamn Miley Cyrus

(Originally written 5/28/8)

I got my sight set on you/And I’m ready to wait
I have a hear t that will/Never be tamed

I know what you’re thinking. You’re glad to see another music post, but does it have to be about Miley Cyrus? Hannah Montana? (Or, as she’s marketed to the Latino community Hannah Santana. Or as she’s marketed to the health market Hannah Banana. Or as she’s marketed to the gang bangers Hannah Red Bandana. Or as she’s marketed to…aw forget it.) Right now I can see my metal friends like Goatt and Bravo smacking their heads. “Christ, we used to talk about bands like Down and Slayer, and he’s fucking writing about Miley Cyrus?” Yes, guys, yes, I am. But as you can imagine, there’s more to the story.

I knew you were something special/When you spoke my name
Now I can’t wait to see you again

So the Mrs.comes bopping here into my office. She goes on to tell me that she has a Miley Cyrus song in her head. Since I have a nutsack, I tell her I have never heard a Miley Cyrus song. “What?” she exclaims, “You’ve never heard that song?” Again I tell her no. Big mistake, as this now prompts her to sing me this song I have never heard. I do not know the song she is singing. Honestly, she could be singing the national freaking anthem, and I wouldn’t be able to recognize it. The difference between hearing the song, and hearing her sing it is best explained like this. Imagine the band playing the song in a studio, where everything sounds pitch perfect. Then imagine Corky from Life Goes on singing the same song.

You know what? Wait. That’s just wrong. And mean. I really shouldn’t say stuff like that. That’s pretty insensitive. I apologize. Corky is a much better singer. Probably a better dancer as well.

A day or 2 later, she calls me into the office because she has found the song online, and wants me to hear it. Another big mistake. Much like some science fiction inspired mind virus, the fucking song worms its way into my head instantly. Fuck. It’s like going into It’s a Small World After All and having that damn song stuck in your head. Now I can appreciate a good, hooky pop song. I compare it to Pink’s Get This Party Started. While that’s not my type of music, I can hear that it will be a huge hit right away. (In fact I was in a wedding where the bridal party came out to the Pink song. The bride and groom picked Pantera’s “Walk” Yea, I got the shaft there.) And it worms its way into your head like Heather Mills to Paul McCartney. Another example that springs to mind is Del Amitri’s “Roll To Me”. It’s a great, catchy pop song that’s like 2 and a half minutes long, but can instantly change your bad mood. Light, airy, nothing serious, just a damn catchy song that bores its way into your head for days and days. Thankfully, this is the only virus the wife has ever given me.

I’ve got a way of knowing/When something is right
I feel like I must of known you/In another life

Bang! This fucking song is now in my head. Miley fucking Cyrus. O, how the music gods have moved to punish me. To say this is awkward is an understatement to say the least. Kind of because I have always considered myself more of a Lizzie McGuire type of guy. Yea, I am familiar with her as well. I was first hipped to her when she was putting albums out. As I pointed out to someone who then agreed with me and who shall remain nameless but might be or not be one of my friends here, “this Lizzie McGuire chick looks like a young Jenna Jameson. You know before all the bad ink and plastic.” Right, I compared a 13 year old girl to a hardened porn star. Ooops, please excuse me, there’s a knock at my door. Hey it looks like Chris Hanson from NBC’s To Catch a Predator! Man, I wonder what he wants?

‘Cause I felt this deep connection/When you looked into my eyes
Now I can’t wait to see you again

And I guess it’s my own fault since I can’t figure out how to get my damned Sirius cradle to stay the hell on the window. I’m stuck, suffering, listening to regular radio. Wanna guess what song starts following me? Right before I got to “work”, even the rock station was playing it, riffing on it. Fuck, now it’s gonna be in my head all day. A few days later as I am flicking through stations, guess what the last song I hear is? Right. Lemme tell ya, there is no cool way to be bopping out to that song in traffic when you’re me. I have to turn down the volume like it’s some sort of audio porn. Again, it gets lodged in my head. There is no way to be masculine on the jobsite if you’re humming goddamn Hannah Montana. The last thing you wanna hear is some older guy saying “Is that Miley Cyrus? My 10 year old daughter loves her!”

The last time I freaked out/I just kept looking down
I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I’m thinkin’ ‘bout
Felt like I couldn’t breathe/You asked what’s wrong with me
My best friend Leslie said/O she’s just being Miley

That’s a great phrase, O, Joe’s just being Joe.” That’s saying Joe really isn’t acting like an asshole, he really is an asshole. O, Miley’s not being a self important drama queen, she really is a self important drama queen. That’s like a license to act like a douchebag if you’re friends stand up for you like that.

The next time we hang out/I will redeem myself
My heart can’t rest until then
Oo oh oo oh I can’t wait to see you again

It’s funny the things you accumulate along the way. As such, you can imagine how many thousands of CDs I have. Some bought, but a lot were free. From other labels, friends at retail (BTW feel free to still hook a brother up). And let’s just say one of my retail friends supplied me with a copy of the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack. Now I think it’s fair to say that it deserved a curiosity listen. Again, in the cowardly privacy of my car, I listened to the Hilary Duff songs. They were OK. Pure sugar coat pop, but OK. However not OK to add to my iPod. Why? Well, I have my iPod, and Mrs. has hers. However, we only have this one PC with our iTunes on it. So 1 iTunes browser has both our libraries on it. Remember how she used to yell at me for spending hours adding songs in? Yea, well that pretty much stopped after she realized she could cherry pick my hours and hours of work to get her favorite songs and add them to hers. So that stopped her bitching. But that also gave her license to raid my iPod for songs. iPods are very personal. I mean she’s the only other person who I can imagine who would be going through my playlists. So can you imagine the rash of shit I would catch if she came across a few Hilary Duff songs? (Like blabbing about this on Blogger will help me either. I think I’m doing this wrong.) So I have to deprive myself to save face in the name coolness. Or maybe I have to deprive myself to keep up the illusion of cool. So even if I wanted to, I can’t buy the song on iTunes. O, if only there was someplace on the internet where one could anonymously go to download songs for free…

I got this crazy feeling/Deep inside
When you called and asked to see me/Tomorrow night
I’m not a mind reader/But I’m reading the signs
That you can’t wait to see me again

You just know Billy Ray Cyrus is having a good laugh at all this. I am sure he still has a lot of money from the “Achy Breaky Heart” days. You know, now that I think about it, Achy Breaky is another one of those songs that worms into your head. I can’t name the 5th President of the country, find North Dakota on the map or who wrote Wuthering Heights because See You Again is taking up space in my gray matter. Anyway, back to Captain Mullet. I am sure Miley is making more money now than he ever did. I hope she at least gets 50 bucks a week allowance. He’s just sitting back, laughing at how uncool he was 15 years ago, and now how all these people think of him as the hip dad.

Who played Lizzie’s dad? The head nerd from Revenge of the Nerds. That’s a pretty fair fight if you ask me. You might wanna ask me how I know this. It’s simple. I used to run with Lizzie McGuire. I can explain. Back when I had to used to force myself to do cardio at the gym-now I don’t bother-I would get up to the cardio deck on Saturday morning right about the same time the Lizzie McGuire show came on ABC. I ask you, who would you rather watch for a half hour? Some talking head on CNBC, or lil Lizzie and her Punky Brewster-like friend, her brother and his friend who never said a word, and her guy friend who was obviously falling for her the whole time? I think the choice is clear. Every Saturday was another chance to watch young Lizzie grow..and…mature..blossom, really….into a fine young woman. O, excuse me a minute. What’s that honey? NBC is back at the front door again? Do they still have cameras?

So to admit to liking a Miley song is a shot at Lizzie. I am a loyal guy that way. A perverted loyal guy, but loyal nonetheless. I didn’t even know what Hannah Montana looks like until today at 5 Below. All I can say is she’s sure no Hilary. Listen to me, 30 something year old guy talking about 2 young girls. I should be ashamed. Although I wonder if they would be impressed to know that I have received numerous calls from both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama over the last week or so. Yea, so don’t say I’m not important.

I can only hope this week, the song runs its course, and my feeble mind can go back to more important things like not putting the drill bit through my thumbnail (again) or falling off a rickety ladder. As always, thanks for reading. I will write again. My heart can’t rest till then. I can’t wait-to write again.

(From the behind the scenes file; I was originally gonna title this post Fucking Miley Cyrus, but was afraid Blogger would throw me off obvious reasons. Also, the punchline to the Corky joke is one of my favorite lines of mine this year. Right up there with ‘sprocket science’ from the Bikers post. And for the record, I had to get (most of) the lyrics from the web, it’s not like I memorized them.)