Now That's What I Call Music That Sounds Like America Farting
On March 24th, the "Now That's What I Call Music" label will release it's 3oth stateside compilation of music that closely resembles a dump I once took after a chili cook-off. In honor of this momentous occasion (the release of the album, not the dump I took), let's take a discerning look at the track list. Sound like fun?
Well I don't care if you don't think it sounds like fun. Daddy's driving this car and if you don't like it, you can go live back at the last rest stop with your whiny grandmother. Ooooh... please stop... my heart pills rolled under the passenger seat and I need you to get them for me... I'm having one of my spells...
Whatever, lady, we're on a schedule here!
Anyway...
Now That's What I Call Music 30: The Track List
Just Dance -- Lady Gaga - I've heard her name (mostly screamed out ironically by gay guys), but I haven't listened to any of her music. However, given that it appears she sings about dancing, and also that she goes by the name "Lady Gaga," I'd be willing to bet that if I ever DID listen to her music, I'd want to track her down and hit her really hard with some sort of mallet. Perhaps a croquet mallet. Or maybe the kind of mallet you use to tenderize pork cutlets. Who can say? Certainly not me. (probably the croquet mallet)
Womanizer -- Britney Spears - Hey look, it's a barrel of fish! And I've got this gun!!! Oh, those fish are going DOWN!!! Don't worry dead horse, I'll be beating the living shit out of you in just a second. Just gotta make sure all these fucking fish get "taken care of" if ya know what I mean.
Keeps Gettin' Better -- Christina Aguilera - She's been the sweet, innocent, "Genie in a Bottle" Christina Aguilera, and she's been the skanky, gutterslut "Dirrty" Christina Aguilera, but I think the Christina Aguilera I'll remember for always is the stupid-hot, breasts-wildly-engorged-from-pregnancy Christina Aguilera. Did you see those things? They were like the entire Nazi zeppelin army on the front of a 4' 8" pile of fake hair and flaking bronzer. Magic, essentially, but also a bad idea, like drinking Everclear around 8am when you're supposed to be a work.
Let It Rock -- Kevin Rudolf - I'd bet a million billion dollars that this guy isn't even like a real thing. Not famous, never been on the radio, hasn't even HEARD of Vh1. However, I bet he DOES work the janitorial night shift at the CD processing plant and managed to slip into the mix his killer track that he and his cousin have been working on for months now. It's about letting it rock. Also, it's about karate, as well as how it's okay for you and your cousin to touch penises if it's on a dare and doesn't mean anything.
Heartless -- Kanye West - I am so sick of the Kanye West cult. Like, oooh, we have to worship him because he wears large glasses and sings about being insecure but it's okay because he KNOWS he insecure and that smooths over him dressing like a jackass and being shitty about losing meaningless awards. He's just another slick-ass song-and-dance man who really actually can't sing all that well and probably can't dance either. Jokes on us. That being said, this song is pretty great. And most of his other music too, truthfully. I just don't like that we HAVE to like him. "Gold Digger" was stuck in my head for like three months, for serious.
Miss Independent -- Ne-Yo - Your name sounds like "yo-yo." I bet you sing about yo-yos and all the cool tricks you can do with a yo-yo. Haha... yo-yos. Anyway, I don't know who this is.
Green Light -- John Legend f/Andre 3000 - I like Andre 3000 because you don't see enough people these days with numbers in their names. Not counting rich people like Nigel Fredrickson Picklepants III, or whatever. Those people are snobs a million times over and probably inbred, besides. Oh, and if I were John Legend, I'd change my middle name to "the." That way people would always turn to their friends and go, "Who's that guy?" And their friends would reply, "That guy... that's John The Legend." And the original guy would go, "Whoaaaa" because he just met a fucking legend, dude. And THAT'S when I'd hit him up for a $20.
Rehab -- Rihanna - Um... are we allowed to make jokes yet? No? Okay then... Rihanna is a part of this album. Let's take a minute to think about how we can talk to young girls about boyfriend violence. Thank you for your time.
I Hate This Part -- Pussycat Dolls - What a coincidence, because everyone hates this part of the album. Also, and you probably know this already, but just in case hearing it from a random blogger is what finally clicks on the light bulb... you know how you all dance around in your underwear all the time and are nasty? Well, we... collectively, as citizens of Earth... think that you smell like vagina. Like, the bad kind. Sweaty-on-a-hike, pants-that-don't-breath, day-before-the-period vagina. It's grossing everyone out. So stop it. Thanks!
Sober -- Pink - Two words that don't go together, like "leftover" & "sushi, and "nutsack" & "weedwacker."
Crush -- David Archuleta - I watched his season of American Idol, so I know of what I speak: David Archuleta is a freak. Not in a sexy, silk scarves on the bedpost kind of way... he's a freak like that kid in high school who admitted to you that he never grew pubes. He can only sing about having crushes, because THAT'S ALL HE'LL EVER KNOW! Sex is just a bit of Harry Potter mysticism to David Archuleta. He wants to hold hands and look into your eyes because maybe there's an idea for a song in there, but he won't ever take it any farther. Ick. He's the dream date for Mennonites scared to death of their fathers.
About You Now -- Miranda Cosgrove - It was so sad when Miranda Richardson died. I always liked her, and she was JUST on Top Chef. Not cool, fate... not cool.
Gives You Hell -- All American Rejects - I was done with this list and was reading it over and then I realized I hadn't done this one yet. I skipped over them. That basically says everything you need to know about everything this band is. Look, they even named their band after their state of being. Way to be self-aware, dudes.
18 Days -- Saving Abel - I don't care enough about anything going on here to even pretend I know what this song is, who the fuck Saving Abel are, or having a third thing in this sentence.
Gotta Be Somebody -- Nickelback - You know what women fucking love? Greasy, blond curls that hang down to your shoulders. And if they're badly dyed blond, that's a bonus. Oh, and if you sing shitty songs about photographs and how they're like memories that represent symbolism, you're basically a roofie.
Thinking Of You -- Katy Perry - I kind of liked that "Hot and Cold" song, but not in a way that I'd feel comfortable ever mentioning it in public, so let's pretend that there's only 19 songs on this album so I don't have to confront the difference between who I thought I was as a music listener and who I actually am as a music listener.
I'm Yours -- Jason Mraz - This song, though, I'll totally take the hit... I love this song. Unabashedly and with a licking-the-prison-visitation-room-glass abandon. Listening to it on a stressful day is like taking two Percocets with a strong Mojito and lying in a hammock for a three hour nap. It's just... pleasant. And pleasant has been in short supply these days. So let me have my pleasant, you jerkwads.
Love Story -- Taylor Swift - Here in TX, turn on the radio and 9 times out of 10 this song is the first song you hear. And that's not a bad thing... it's decent. And I bet a bunch of pussies get all misty-eyed at the end when she talks about the guy proposing to the girl all romantic-like. Bunch of pussies. On an unrelated note, my allergies are bugging me so bad... eyes just won't stop watering... why yes, my allergies cause me to sob, why do you ask?
Sweet Thing -- Keith Urban - He's had sex with Nicole Kidman, but Nicole Kidman now... not Nicole Kidman when she was actually someone you would want to have sex with. Now it would be like having sex with something you put together from Ikea. All breakable plastic and wooden dowels holding shit together. No thanks. Also, doesn't he have a soul patch? Ugh. They deserve each other.
4 Comments:
It was Natasha Richardson that died not Miranda. Other than than, greatness.
Well, that's what I get for writing stuff while drinking. Thanks, though!
This is why I just listen to those "promo" CDs that they hand out at gay clubs.
I think I still have the "Now: 4" disc tucked away somewhere...
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