Pop Musings Tuesday, February 18, 2003 [ banter 1 ]

I was on my way out of work tonight when Nelly and his crew arrived to check in.  I really freaking like his new album Nellyville (more than Country Grammar but whatever), and yes, that "Dillemma" song (with Kelly Rowland --- those two are gonna rock the motherfreakin' house this weekend with that shit) came out a longass time ago but it's still the damn anthem.  What is it about that song that just kicks ass?  Could it be the cute chorus?  The falsetto vocal hook?  The fact that Nelly and Kelly have names that rhyme?  Who the hell knows?  I love it and blast that shit incessantly on a loop (as a result, I think the lyrics have been burned into BJ's head for eternity).  So, naturally, I had to stop in my tracks and profess my shit to the Nelly-man directly.  The interaction went something like this:

Nelly: Hey, what's up.  I'm checking in...
Spriteboy: It's you.
N:  Um, yeah. 
S:  Nelly, I love you.  I do... need you. 
N:  *confused* What the fuck?
S:  No matter what I do all I think about is you.
N:  *sigh*  Not this bullshit again.
S:  Even when I'm with my boo...
N:  You're messed up, dawg.
S:  I know.  I'm sorry.

Ok, not really but whatever.  Look, is it my fault that they were playing it @ work tonight in the Bar?  Everytime I hear it, it just makes me wanna skip through the lobby and hug everybody.  Can you picture it?  Yeah, don't. 

MY FRONT STEPS

Despite the fact that it takes an extra 45 minutes to get anywhere, and the fact that all of my pants will have to be re-hemmed soon, all this snow actually is kind of freakishly beautiful... in an artic sort of way.  I was in Times Sq. the other day and it was so cool to watch everybody just walking through the empty streets.  It's really nice to walk home through all of it, trudging along in snow that comes all the way up to my knees (okay, okay.. up to my waist), get inside, take a hot shower, heat up some leftover spagehtti, kick on some Daria, and relax. 

I look fwd to when my books arrive in the mail.

Vanessa Carlton was chillin in the Library Bar tonight too.  I didn't so much care, her voice sorta annoys me.  But I did wish her luck @ the Grammy's cuz I know her newbie ass ain't gonna win shit.  She's up against top dogs like Aerosmith, Eminem, Coldplay, and Sheryl Crow.  I anticipate a whole lotta pop-music ppl hitting Hudson this weekend, we're hosting the Gramy After-Party on Sunday.  I somehow managed to escape --- praise be to God --- getting scheduled that day, so I will be sittin' @ home, glued to the TV b/c I am pretty much psyched about most all of the nominees this year.  I really like John Mayer and am proud to say that I bought his album way back before it really got a lot of attn, back when it was on the $9 rack @ TOWER.  Also, he thinks that my body is a wonderland, so we kinda like this guy.  If he (or Michelle Branch --- I like her, too) loses the Best New Artist award to that ferret-faced little teen-Alanis Avril Lavigne, I will be forced to shoot myself in the head.  I actually got a call the other day from this casting agency I did a job for once, they wanted to know if I'd be an extra in this new Avril video shooting in the city next week.  I immediately thanked them for calling and then cussed them to high hell, and instructed them to never call my voicemail with a bullshit offer like that again.  Yes, I am an Avril-hater, and I will straight up bring my hateration/holeration up into this dancerie.  No qualms about it. 

I watched the Sororitiy Life Reunion this past weekend and found myself wishing awful things upon each of those dumbass girls.  Who did these fools think they were kidding?  I loved how they all just sat there, clearly jaded and pissed and upset, and tried to be all BIG and mature and ADULT about their whole reality tv experience when you know all they really wanted to do was get up off that couch and throw down, all Jerry Springer-style..  Especially Jordan, yu could fucking SEE the homicide bubbling in yer eyes.  She wanted to tear across that stage and kick those Pledge Masters in the face.  The new season starts next week, I think, along with Fraternity Life, which I am curious to see.  The vomiting... ohh the vomiting.  I can just see it now...  The pixled-out tee-shirt logos, the overuse of "dude" and "kid", the endless array of wife-beaters.  I think we should start a drinking game. 
Everytime a pledge screams, "Who's your daddy?!", pound one. 
Everytime you hear, "Yeah, baby!", pound two. 
Everytime the music editors play Nelly's "Hot in Herre", pound three. 
And everytime there's blatant display of homoeroticism, just chug the motherfucking bottle.

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