Lady, Gag-me

gaga-1-072313-400x300Remember in gym class, when your gym teacher would say something like, “OK…we’re gonna run a mile. Now, pace yourself, because you don’t want to sprint and tire out too soon”?

I think Lady Gaga sprinted right out of the gate and now she’s crawling to the finish line.

Shock value is great when it’s sporadic, unpredictable and on-topic/relevant. Otherwise, it looks like you’re trying too hard, you run out of material and thus — can’t one-up yourself at a steady pace.

JUST A HEADS-UP…the bottom half of the photo above is below, after the jump. Continue reading


Who’s keeping track?

I’ve personally been asked if my nationality is Italian, Greek, Spanish, Mexican, Armenian and even Asian a few times. I’m none of those, as far as I know. It’s Austrian, Irish and Polish. I have olive skin. I don’t know if — based on what I know about my heritage — I’m “supposed” to have olive skin, but I don’t care. I’m American.

When I read this post on, about there not being enough “DARK-skinned women on television or in music”, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I like a good debate, especially when it involves women-related issues. However, I just don’t see the “issue” in this particular case.

The author says:

 “Yes, we have black powerhouses that we all know and adore: Beyoncé, Kelly Rowland, Halle Berry, Alicia Keys, Rihanna, and the list goes on and on. However, very rarely do we see a DARK-skinned woman on television or in music, and that’s just unreal. Why are these women underrepresented? Where are they?”

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Pop stars aren’t parents

I caught this article on HelloGiggles via Facebook last night, blasting Selena Gomez’s new song, “Come And Get It” — and it’s gotten me all sorts of annoyed. But that’s nothing new, since each time I read something that blames pop stars for being bad influences on young girls, I immediately cringe and roll my eyes. I mean, who’s the parent?images

It’s such an old, yawn-inducing cop out.

I can remember riding in the backseat of my friend’s parents’ car in 1991, when Color Me Badd’s “I Wanna Sex You Up” (you’re welcome — good luck getting it out of your head) came on the radio. I remember feeling torn, because it was a popular song and I wanted to sing along to it — but also embarrassed because my friend’s parents were present, and…well, the song repeated the word sex over and over. I was 10 years old. I knew it was an adult thing, but I had no real feelings toward it, and I didn’t even know exactly what the song was implying. I think I thought by wanting to “sex the girl up”, he meant really wanted to dance provocatively with her at someone’s birthday party at Secrets.

I never listened to kid’s tapes in the car. We listened to the radio. And, whenever a sex-y song came on — from Paula Abdul to Janet Jackson to Madonna — my mom never once got all flustered and flew forward to shut it off and hide it from me. No. And, she certainly didn’t write a hipster blog post complaining about how women should basically be sexually ambiguous, never, ever talk or (gasp) sing about sex, and should just shut up and exist. Continue reading