Fake it ’til you make it

As I was assembling my Halloween costume, I realized that it (the costume, not I) needed the perfect awkward karaoke accompaniment. Of course, it’s awfully pretentious and presumptuous to plan a karaoke jam, but I feel that if you believe everything is truly spontaneous, you’re in the goof troop, son. Sometimes, you just have to point your brain in one awful direction and let the chemicals do the rest.

What’s an awkward karaoke song? For one, it is not ironic. Irony is for idiots who think the entire world is complicit in their stupid joke. I don’t think there’s a chance in hell I’d ever say “Take This Job and Shove It” or “Fuck the Police” and not mean it. Second, an awkward jam has to contain a ridiculous stanza or an unnecessary breakdown/build up or an outpouring of lyrics so drenched in douche water, you can’t help but actually get behind them.

Finally, the last two determining criteria have to do with you. Have you ever worked retail? If so, you’ll know every word to these songs and you’ll experience a certain Proust-like association with them. For example, every time I hear “Come On Over” by Christina Aguilera, I recall that magical Christmas I worked in the appliance department for two weeks before they figured out I failed the drug test. I can smell the burning Mrs. Fields now! Also, these songs have equally creepy, if not profoundly cringe-inducing, videos. For your benefit, I have attached and annotated five of them.

Scarlet: “Independent Love Song”:

The best part of the 90s was Clothestime and Supercuts’ contribution to feminism: big billowy outfits with ambiguous hair-dos. Think Emily Valentine and the entire cast of The Heights and then add some lame stuff about sexual autonomy and the: Creepiest. Lyrics. Ever.

“I’ll show you how to take me
Go down go down
And I’ll show you how to turn me
Right on right on
And I’ll show you how to touch me
Right on right on right on
Right on right on right on”

Ick. I had a VHS tape of “Blade Runner” that I’d watch incessantly and the preview for “Bed of Roses” featuring this song preceded it. After a while, “Independent Love Song” made me so uncomfortable, I had to fast forward right through Bridget Fonda (?) and Christian Slater’s love montage. Right on.

Shakespeare’s Sister: “Stay”

If you understand what’s going on in this video, more power to you. I guess one of the girls is the life support angel and the other one is like some sort of death Satan. Whatever it is, it’s perfect for a karaoke duet if you and your companion are a duo like ketchup and mustard or Dog and Beth Chapman. I saw this video during a vacation where everything went wrong and subsequently, I attributed the collapse of my family to Shakespeare’s Sister. Then, like all preteen girls do, I imbued way too much in the lyric, “you better hope and pray that you wake one day back in your own world!” DORKY.

Breathe: “Hands to Heaven”

If you’re dressed as some sort of creature of myth, this is the song for you. “Hands to Heaven” contains a line that sounds like “tonight you carve my bresteses” but it’s actually, “calm my restlessness.” What a let-down. This song reminds me of putting stuff on layaway at K-Mart. Jews can be poor, too. The link says “embedding disabled by request” as if there’s some huge run on this song. However, I suggest you make your way over there to watch it. These guys look like New Order but sound like a duo from junior high school talent show in the Philippines.: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKGNxmbxFGI

Swing Out Sister: “Breakout”

A few winters ago, I saw a man in a leather bar (I was in there for research, no really) annihilating “Breakout” while his friends circled him in what can only be described as an erotic limbo conga line frenzy. This is a real “retail” song, too. I guess the message is something like, “don’t be afraid to be yourself when things are down.” You’ve got to find a way. Say what you want to say….breakout! It’s annoying, awkward, and unavailable for embedding on this page, but you should see it anyway because that band is adorable and if your costume consists of nothing but bolts of cloth and dreams, “Breakout” is the song for you:

Savage Garden: “I knew I Loved You (Before I Met You)”

I had this whole paragraph planned about how fate may or may not be bullshit but things are nowhere what I thought they’d be when I was a kid. I thought, quite honestly, that sex would be filled with sax solos and Ellen Barkin. However, before I could flesh out that notion, I read this comment under the video: “i knew i loved my fiance before we met,we were texting first,this is going to be our first dance when we get married in aug”

Dude, you win. Find the video yourself.

Love,

Esther

To whom it may concern:

The world is a very complex, involved place. While you do not feel the need to report on the endless conflict in Sri Lanka, the fact that Joe Wilson (R-Douchebag) inadvertently raised $800k for his opponent, and the “public health care option” is a mindless concession to bureaucrats who already have terrific insurance, you insist on publishing a daily piece chastising fat women. Today’s special, “Once Bullied, Token Fat Girl Sheds 110 lbs”, really spoke to me, MSNBC.
Did it inspire me to put down the donut and cigarette and join a walk-a-thon? Did it force me to look in the mirror and shame myself? Nope, if anything, it prompted me to seek an actual news source for you know, actual news. I went to The Guardian site instead. Reading your article, however, I must commend you for tabloid scare headlines and adding to the enormous sense of failure that causes women to eat out of frustration.
As a dedicated fat chick, I’ve pretty much gotten over that shit. I realized long ago that the world sort of has a blank check to say whatever it wants to me, so I decided to talk back. Let’s dissect a portion of your article for a moment:

“At 252 pounds, the size-22 mom struggled with basic everyday activities and chores. She recalls feeling “defeated” when trying to fit into theater or restaurant seats, and “humiliated” when shopping for new clothes. But as frustrated as she was, she couldn’t find the motivation control her eating habits. Rachael’s daily intake consisted of sausages, pancakes and biscuits for breakfast; pizza and sandwiches for lunch, and dressing-soaked salads and fatty starches for dinner. Rachael thought she was eating healthy by having salads, tuna and chicken, but she didn’t know to refrain from drenching her meals in dressings and oily sauces. Insecure and unhappy, she worried about how her weight and her mood might affect her small children. “

Aside from her uncontrollable urge to drench her children in oily sauces, Rachael couldn’t muster the courage to buy a shirt or watch a movie without falling to pieces. She didn’t even know she wasn’t eating healthfully! What a fat idiot! She couldn’t complete everyday activities and chores! Three-year-olds can do that. According to Jamie Lee Curtis, I cannot poop properly. According to Brooke Shields, my eyelashes aren’t dark enough and now, according to you, I should have trouble completing basic tasks because I’m so insecure and unhappy.
Since you’re a news source, here’s a newsflash: the people you choose to profile have deep-seeded emotional issues that run parallel to their obesity.
Here’s some advice to the unhappily fat: do drugs. I’m not kidding. Just do them. Show your kids what it’s like to be in real danger. Don’t stand behind your thin friend at the bar and look uncomfortable. Snatch the mic away from the shithead on karaoke and scream, “Hey man, that suit is YOU! You’ll get some leg tonight FOR SURE! Tell us HOW YOU DO!” and mean it.
If you feel sad when you try on clothes, shop somewhere else. Wear shit that doesn’t fit. If a dress is too small, wear it as a shirt. FTW. Eleanor Roosevelt had it right: no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. That’s sage advice coming from an awesome tubby lesbian who married her cousin.
In closing MSNBC, try reporting some actual news. It’s good for the soul. And stop telling people to join faith-based weight-loss programs, it’s weird. I choose one faith, gentlemen, and that’s the teachings of early 90’s Prince. The purple one commands me to look in the mirror, look beyond the mirror and say, “I like ‘em fat. I like ‘em proud. You gotta have a mother for me so move that big ass ‘round this way so I can work on that zipper, baby.” Tonight, MSNBC, you’re a star…and I’m the big dipper.
Stay fat,
Esther