It's Friday, Friday!

and Ice Cube ain't havin' none of dat.

Seagulls stole mah pancakes!

The other day I found myself explaining why I listen to country music. Truth is, when I lived in St. Louis, I found myself growing irritable about underdeveloped urban culture and angry music. In response I rolled down the windows to my car and blasted 93.7 The Bull.  Happy!  Yeehaw!

Years later, I still find it unreal how much bad music exists.  I'm not talking just talking about "Friday," the train wreck of this week.  Its verse "Gotta have my bowl! Gotta have cereal!" lead me into another piece of lyrical junk centering around breakfast foods.  Gucci Mane's new single, "Pancakes."

My brother is the Arts & Entertainment editor for his university's newspaper and is currently reviewing Gucci Mane's new album, which dropped today.  If you haven't seen this 'hood freak show, he has a face tattoo of an ice cream cone.  Totally normal.  Ryan shared some of his findings with me, leading to this photoshop filled rant.

Gucci Mane, go vroooooom!

In the spirit of "art" let me share some beautiful lyrics with you...which only come after my reaction below.

me:  BAHAHAHAHAH

dirty.

birds.

seagulls?

really.

seagulls?

Ryan:  hell yeah

 me:  I am speechless.

 Ryan: likewise... It's just that incredible

 me:  I am vomiting

Pattycake!

Pattycake!

I hope around with pancakes!

I touch down with hashbrowns!

Syrup in my...

Oh, who cares.  Cracker Barrel, take note.  I see marketing opportunities abound.  As a former Crack House employee, I'm fo' realz.

iPod Shuffle

I rarely ever judge a person on his or her musical tastes.  Variety is the spice of life and if I want to listen to Arcade Fire, Mumford & Sons, Rhianna and B.o.B. on the Monday after the Grammys than that's my prerogative.  The only exception to this rule is Nickelback; thanks for nothing Canada.  Music transcends geography, age and class as an art form without a pinpointed historical beginning and without a likely end.

My fascination with music as a performing art is likely the result of the fact that I have little of my own skills in this department.  Outside of air drumming and the the "look-I'm-holding-an-invisible-microphone-in-a-bar-while-singing" mannerisms this is sadly a side of me I haven't discovered...yet.  I'm holding onto that hope.

So here are my short takeaways from last night all of which were said by me, out loud, during last night's awards.  Most to another person.

• Lady Gaga's prosthetic "shoulders" reminded me of the aliens in Independence Day and in the worst way possible
• After the Mumford & Sons performance, the lead singer dropped back two steps and threw a 60-yard pass into the side of Dr. Dre's face thereby proving that he is Tim Tebow
• Jury is still out on the relevancy of showing Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman between each commercial break
• Gwenyth Paltrow should only sing on Glee, with her best friend "auto tune"
• Bob Dylan is a legend.  There is no other excuse for that performance
• Was Mick Jagger wearing Skecher's Shape Ups?
• I waited for Eminem's shout out to Brisk Iced Tea during his acceptance speech.  If you're going to sell out, go big
• Katy Perry's best asset?  Boobs.
• Finally, I hope we can all agree that the real winnre of the night was the Jim Henson Company for "The Song Otherwise Known as 'Forget You'"  Cee-Lo looked like he ate Big Bird
• Arcade Fire.  Woop.

One $hining Moment

Senses stir up memories.  I remember the taste of grandma's mac & cheese and the touch of the smooth brick in my grade school hallway.  Parents fill photo albums with baby pictures and have VHS tapes of our first family vacations so we can relive the sense of sight. 

The most influential sense may be hearing, for better or worse.  A baby's cry, a wedded couple's first dance, that Vitamin C "Graduation" song that just won't go away.  A couple weeks ago my brother departed for college spring break in Panama City Beach, following in his sister's stumbly footsteps.  I can't help but think of the memories and smile, particularly when they're defined by my generation's greatest hit songs such as Fergie's "Glamorous" and Unk's "Walk it Out."  Key word: hit.

According to him, if he learned anything it's that he hates Kesha but only slightly more than that "Shots, Shots, Shots" song.  Sorry, Ke$ha.  But I'm not There$@ so forget that skank.  I refuse to give anyone that provided us with the lyrics, "kick 'em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger" any sort of respect.

MICK JAGGER?!  Are you SERIOUS?!

Sadly enough, it's these otherwise forgettable songs that define some of our great life moments.  Think of the song you laugh at with your friends when she threw herself at some random guy at the bar; then the Rascal Flatts song she wouldn't stop crying to when they broke up months later.  Why have a romantic song when you can rock out to Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" at a karaoke bar on vacation?  I remember sorority girls defining their life with Madonna's "Like a Prayer" at college parties.  "Oh my gawd, it's like our SONG!"  Ladies, it's everyone's song but to each their own.  I prefer to define my college experience with defined fist pumps and "Don't Stop Believin'."  Just a city booooooooy!

The NCAA gets it on the money "One Shining Moment" during March Madness.  (Although, with respect to Ms. Hudson, I want Luther Vandross back.)  Last night's Northern Iowa win over Kansas (Go Missouri Valley conference!) was one of those moments you belt out, "YOU KNEW YOU WERE ALLIIIIIIVE!"



The most magical part of it all is that the first time you hear a song you don't know it will become a memory, it just takes place.

Pla¢e?