An evolution of taste

I am currently uploading a few of my old CDs to my iTunes. Now I’m reminiscing about how my music taste has evolved. Care to join me?

The first song I called my “favorite” was “Pieces of Me” by Ashlee Simpson. I wanted her CD, Autobiography, so bad, but never bought it. Instead, I purchased Lindsay Lohan’s Speak, and every Hilary Duff CD available when I was in fourth grade. I danced around my room and sang into my hairbrush.

Jesse McCartney showed up in sixth grade. I bought Beautiful Soul that year and watched Disney Channel every day with hopes he would show his face. I died inside every time this music video showed during Disney Channel commercials: Because You Live

Avril Lavigne snuck in after that. Finally in eighth grade, a friend introduced me to YouTube. I went on to find this:

…and everything spawned from there. Flyleaf wasn’t far behind for me with “I’m So Sick.” Lacey’s voice is just so…different. Their latest album, Memento Mori, is one I can listen to over and over and not tire of it.

Then things got weird. My brothers’ (and friends’) tastes in music severely influenced mine. Seeing AFI on the VH1 Top 20 Countdown on Saturday mornings could make my day. Especially with “Love Like Winter.” I wanted nothing more than to meet Davey Havok and Jade Puget.

Bullet For My Valentine followed, with Marilyn Manson not long after. “Tears Don’t Fall” by Bullet For My Valentine became my new “favorite” song.

I’m not ashamed of anything I listened to during younger years. It meant something to me at that point in time. Each listen brings back a different memory.

For the record…

My favorite song now is “Rain” by Breaking Benjamin (and has been since, oh, ninth grade?), though I have several close seconds.

My favorite music video is, and will forever be, this one (especially from 2:07 and on): The Leaving Song Pt. II

Now I listen to anything and everything.

No, Miley. I don’t ever wish to be a “Fly On The Wall”

I feel like ranting. Hope you’re ready for this.

I just viewed Miley Cyrus’s video for “Fly On The Wall.” Now, I didn’t mean to watch it, I was perfectly happy with the 3OH!3 video that was before it, but I cannot control the playlist on Playlist. Though I wish I could, sadly I cannot.

She is so annoying. I hate all of these pop artists that think they are hot shit and stuff. They think that absolutely everyone loves them, even though quite a few people obviously don’t. Another example is Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable.” Now, I respect Beyonce more than Miley, but the whole “I could have another you in a minute” really cheesed me off. Yes, Beyonce, now we know that you are a whore and like it. Good for you! Now shut up.

Anyway, back to Miley.

It just feels like the perfect time to rant about her again. Remember my post from over the summer? Ha… well, here’s more.

I didn’t mind her when she first appeared out of nowhere. I watched Hannah Montana every once in awhile and kind of liked it. After some time, she definitely didn’t grow on me. SpongeBob did, but she didn’t. After the whole Vanity Fair fiasco all I remember thinking is “ew.” I never was a fan of hers, but after the magazine thing, I didn’t care for her at all. Here she is, this role model on Disney Channel for all of these young kids that love and adore her, and then she has to do something like that. Gross.

Her voice is awful, I don’t think she’s that pretty, and her chipmunk teeth annoy the hell out of me. The part in the music video when the “paparazzis” start dancing really got to me. She’s just standing there with her mouth part way open and her teeth sticking out. Very attractive. She’s obviously trying to break free of “cute little Miley” and trying to be “bad ass Miley.” It’s not working. All of these Disney people seem to think they have to prove that they aren’t as “goody goody” as they seem. It’s starting to get a little annoying, to tell you the truth.

I feel bad for all of the young kids that look up to this Miley character. Pretty soon they’ll be wearing really tight jeans and throwing their hair about in an attempt to be like Miley, who tries to be sexy. She’s a little older than I am, but she is acting like she’s in her twenties. If being a “Fly On The Wall” means having to listen to stupid gossip and hair products and clothes and shoes, well, I hope they see me and swat me. Or…I could buzz around her head and annoy the hell out of her. Yes, that sounds much better. In the meantime, I’ll stick with only ONE “Fly On The Wall.” Instead of watching Miley’s horrible video, go read the book Fly On The Wall by e. lockhart. It’s far better than any song Miley will ever sing. (Attempt to sing…)

Service available until midnight

From seven-thirty in the evening to 12:00 midnight yesterday, I was locked up in a house with two little girls. Now, maybe I shouldn’t use “locked up” because I felt nothing like how I felt when I babysat my terror of a cousin. No, these girls were little angels compared to my cousin and her little sister. Nobody was bossing ME around, and instead of begging for food all the time, the eldest kept wanting to play games and color and watch movies. Easy as cake.

I learned that three-year-olds are, in fact, tolerable, some six-year-olds aren’t as terrible as the rest of them, and that Hannah Montana is wayyyy too popular among youngsters. The cartoon version of the Eloise books are as cute as the actual movie with that adorable little girl, the people who make up preschool kid shows must be wanting them to learn Spanish (ex: Handy Manny, Go Diego Go!, and Dora The Explorer) and I am now out of the loop when it comes to Disney Channel (I didn’t know that those twins on that one show had gotten so big!). I learned never to believe a thing that the six-year-old said to me, the game Elefun is not fun unless there are batteries inside it, and nail polish bottles should be made childproof. I saw The Wiggles for the first time, and yes, it’s a great way for young kids to exercise and dance in front of the TV, but those four men gave me the creeps. I am sure that they probably are made of money because of this show, but the whole time we were watching it, I just wanted to say: “you know what they are really saying, right? Between every song they are probably saying: IhatemylifeIhatemylifeIhatemyjobIhatemyjob….” but obviously, I couldn’t. Their mouth movements did not even match up with the singing…I am sure that if this show had been out when I was little I would have adored it, but right now I don’t. The Wiggles definitely scared me.

It was a fun (and tiring) night. We played in a sink full of bubbles (and got soaked, I might add), made smoothies, played Polly Pockets and had fun with their Furr-Real friends (the giant horse and the cute little kitty). As for the TV shows we watched…. I think I will stick with my SpongeBob.

MILEY CYRUS INVASION

Everywhere I look, she is smiling back at me. How does someone like her gain such power? One answer: her daddy. Yep, she is a perfect example of Daddy’s Little Girl. She is only famous because her dad is.

She does not have any talent. Her Disney Channel TV show is pitiful, for she cannot act. She should not be a famous singer just because her dad is too. One must have talent in order to be a famous singer, and unfortunately this is a trait that she just does not possess. Her voice is nasally and she should be banned from creating anymore CDs.

What is the deal with the whole Hannah Montana thing anyway? All she does is put on a wig, and BAM she’s a “new” person. Definitely not an improvement, that is for sure. I guess where I am going with this is that there are people out there that are definitely more talented than she is, but they will never be noticed because they just do not have the connections that she has. What a shame!!!

My friend (we’ll call her Kathy) and I went to Walmart the other day. Yes, Miss Hilton, the place where they “sell wall stuff.” Everywhere she and I looked, Miley Cyrus was smiling back. The clothing section had racks and racks of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus merchandise staring us down. I was actually scared for my life. Seeing her mousy smile everywhere I looked was absolutely frightening. Kathy and I looked through the posters and found that almost every single one of them was of either Cyrus or Montana. CHOOSE A FRIGGEN IDENTITY ALREADY!!! The cherry on top was when Kathy and I and her father and sister went into Subway, and just as we were settling into a booth and getting ready to take a bite, Cyrus’s new single erupted through the speakers. I felt like I was about to puke.

The next time Kathy and I go to Walmart together, we are buying a cork board, a Hannah Montana poster and a pack of nice, sharp darts. We will then paste the poster to the cork board and hurl those nice, sharp darts at said poster. We decided that she does not deserve to be famous. Talentless people do not deserve to be the idol of practically every little girl in the world.

Stinky Cheese

My boyfriend provided the title for this post, and now I finally came up with something to write underneath the mysterious title. No, this post is not about stinky cheese. Rather, this is about all of the annoyances in life. Is stinky cheese not an annoyance?

The first annoyance that I would like to address is one that I know everyone has endured countless times: getting soap in the ol’ eyes. This is just a matter of opening your eyes at the worst possible moment. In comes the soap, and here comes the pain. I know that I have never screamed out loud when this has happened to me, but it sure is painful enough to want to.

Everyday, my mother and I bitch and moan about everything you can ever imagine. One concept we just cannot seem to grasp is the following: how can people not know which side of the road to walk on? When she and I are out in our Buick Rendezvous (usually heading to the mall or some store with cheap books) we always see a few walkers, and they are more often than not on the wrong side of the road. When walking on the side of the road, walk against traffic, pweeze. Thank you very much. Now, ride your bike with traffic. It really isn’t all that difficult, folks.

Cellular phones are an annoyance in many ways. The most annoying way? My mother and I agree that it is when a person is talking on their cell phone aggravatingly loud in a store. Today, while in the paint aisle, she and I overheard (it’s impossible to eavesdrop when it is so loud) a woman’s conversation about how she does all these nice things for people, and they are never nice to her in return. Okay, lady, obviously the people that you are nice to think that you are annoying, just like you are annoying when you talk about how they don’t appreciate you, in public for all to hear.

Ever crave a big bowl of cereal? Did you then go to the refrigerator, grab the carton of milk, and then tip it over into the bowl whilst licking your lips? Ever have only a few drops come out? Yeah, that would be annoyance Numero Cuatro. My oldest brother always leaves a teeny bit of milk at the bottom, and then when I crave that nice, big bowl of cereal, I have to make two trips to the fridge instead of one. Sure, the extra walk is a little more exercise (though I do not think that I need it), but it is simply unnecessary and can easily be avoided. Next time he comes home, I am hiding the milk.

My mother provided an annoyance for me. She finds it annoying that nice guys almost always finish last. I guess that I will have to ask her to delve into this further so I can find out exactly what she means.

One day in my eighth grade year, my friend (let’s call her Marie) showed up to school in a black hoodie, and brown knee-length shorts. My other friend (let’s call her Jenny) went absolutely ballistic on Marie when she saw what she was wearing. Now, you must understand that Jenny is the “fashion police” and needs to address absolutely every “error” someone has made on their outfit. Marie and Jenny were in a huge fight that whole entire day just because Marie wore brown and black together, and supposedly they “just don’t go!” Please, Jenny, get a life and stop trying to control everyone else’s. And to all others out there who believe that brown and black do not go together: everything goes with black! Fashion police are an everyday annoyance.

I do a lot of the laundry in my house – and it does not include my brother’s. Maybe I should start including his with mine and my parents’ because he always takes my clothes out of the dryer when he needs it and just puts them on the counter without ever folding them. Then, I come by to pick up my warm and dry clothes to fold them, but they are in a wrinkled pile on the counter. In retaliation, I take his out of the dryer and throw them on the floor, putting mine back inside. This goes on and on, and he definitely needs to learn how to fold clothes – or how to be patient and wait for his turn with the dryer. Ahhh…boys…

Yes, it seems as though I am ranting on, but understand that I am addressing everyday annoyances. These are stories of my pain and suffering everyday of my life. (And yes, I know that I am being insanely dramatic.) It seems as though I cannot go a day without seeing the cast of High School Musical (and its damn sequel and sequel-to-be) smiling back at me from some corny poster or cheap little plastic backpack. Miley Cyrus (Hannah Montana grrr) also smiles back at me all the time, and I just wish I could punch her and wipe that stupid smile off her face. Disney Channel is a common annoyance.

To wrap this all up, my stinky cheeses also include getting slivers in my feet from our wooden deck, ch4t$p3@k, fingerprints and smudges on my glasses, and my dogs always whining to go outside when I am busy on the computer. My brothers come home from a baseball game that they just played in, and then tune the TV to channel 770 to watch even more baseball on the Yankee Entertainment Station. Haven’t we seen enough? Okay, almost done. BUT WAIT! Keep reading and you just might see my rant about infomercials and their annoying tactics and techniques. Keep reading my blog for the rest of your days and you will receive a thankful email via me. Everybody has stinky cheeses in their lives (swiss for me!) but I guess that we just have to roll with the punches. I have now reached over 1,000 words in this one “article.” Until I find out more things that irritate me greatly, this is it for now. Over and out.