Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Linda Lewis- Class Style (I've Got It) (1984)

Pure class is really not too hard to achieve with the following few rules:

*It's okay to stumble around when you're drunk, so long as your actual ass doesn't ever hit the ground.
*Amaretto Sours are a fine way to start off an evening.
*Hey. Antiperspirant may cause cancer, but it avoids the unfortunate inevitability of people trying to guess the shape of your sweat-stains.
*Ladies. Even when in a dark room, go look in the mirror ever hour, on the hour. Your boobs are probably out of place. Also, if it took you less than an hour to get ready to go out in the evening, then get your ass back in the bathroom, set the timer, and get back to work.
*Gents. Keep your dick in your pants out in public. Can't believe I even have to mention this one, but here we are.
*Gentle ribbing is a natural part of conversation, but it is important to test the waters with a 'yo momma' joke before making jokes about rape or child abuse. Listening for the silent pause is key- a silent pause means that you have to follow with jokes about Obama instead, because these guys are fucking squares.
*If you wear a distinct shade of lipstick, and that color of lipstick just happens to end up on the skin or clothing of someone else, then you guys may as well just go fuck in the bathroom, because it's the same thing.
*Ch-chiggety check yourself. The more the better.

Sade- Smooth Operator (1984)

The other night, I found myself drifting off while thinking about my future. More specifically, hoping and praying that there is a chance in hell that, one day, in my maturity, I might age as well as Sade.
Coming back down to earth, reality hit me hard. I'm not one to crush my own hoop dreams, but a long-term goal of eventually ending up as a statuesque black woman (complete with a voice made of pure silk) might be reaching a tad too far.

p.s. I love, love, love this video. They just don't make 'em like they used to.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A Taste Of Honey- Do It Good (1979)

Man, oh, man.
Good funk and disco usually flows so nicely with a glass of wine or a fancy mixed drink. I'm totally gay for a fine cocktail, you know.
...But so rarely do you hear a disco song like this, that would benefit best from a pairing with grape soda and cough syrup from a 2-Litre bottle.

p.s. I love this era of disco, when things got a little weird. By 1979, disco was bound to sound a little sloppy and tired and strung-out; most of the industry had been snorting angel dust for four straight years, and it was time for a well-deserved rest.

Kashif- Lover Turn Me On (1983)

You may have been able to guess, but I once went through a pretty heavy Kashif phase.
You know, catalogued areas in my I-Tunes, memorizing lyrics, researching album covers.
I know, I know... Sounds like a bit of a waste of time, but come on. It was not all in vain. The dude made songs with Sassy Tunes faves Evelyn 'Champagne' King, Whitney Houston, and Melba Moore, and knows how to play a fucking miniMoog.
Also, black guys with moustaches...
Just try to rip a white bitch away.
That shit is classssssy.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Rainy Davis- Sweetheart (1986)

If I weren't so busy trying to stand upright and stop shitting in my pants in 1986, I imagine this would've been my jaaaaam.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Whispers- Emergency (1981)

The longer I work with children, the more I think that many outsmart the people that spawned them.
A young boy of maybe six years old was sitting next to his mother on the benches at work the other day. The boy got up from his seat and turned to his mother. "Mom," he said calmly, "I need to use the washroom, okay?"
His mom looked at him with a panicked concern. "You mean you have to potty? Is it an emergency????"
Before the boy had a chance to answer, his mom had picked him up and was running as fast as she could toward the bathroom. A stern little voice cried out from within her arms. "No, mom, it is not an emergency".
She stopped in her tracks and placed the boy back onto the ground. He brushed himself off, rolled his eyes, and slowly strolled the rest of the way, the front of his pants as dry as the desert. He really took it all in stride, but something tells me that kid has a calender under his bed that counts down to his eighteenth birthday.