Private Joy- Coolin' Out (1982)

I try to cool out and relax, I really do, but the threat of Justin Bieber busting into my house and exposing my acne problem to the world looms over my head at all times. Trust me, I've seen that commercial a billion times, and the threat is very real.

Invisible Man's Band- All Night Thing (1979)

I often wonder, as I walk past a group of middle-aged women bending and straining and sweating in an outdoor fitness class in the park, if they realize that others can see actually see them. It's as if the loud guy running the group gave them all Gatorade mixed with Sprite (otherwise known as "Gatorite") and told them it would make them invisible to the public eye, so it's "totally cool" to wear spandex and get yelled at in a school field for a nominal fee, just in case you might lose a few pounds along the way.
I hate to break it to you, ladies, but you can never, ever trust a screaming guy in camo pants.

Tracy Weber- Sure Shot (Larry Levan Remix) (1981)

If there is one sure shot in the entire world, is is most certainly the remix catalogue of Mr. Larry Levan. In fact, the closest I will ever get to believing in a god is the unwavering belief I have in anything his golden fingers ever touched (except for, perhaps, the giant mountains of PCP, heroin, and sparkly twink assholes).

Maze ft Frankie Beverly - Before I Let Go (1980)

I often think that a good, wholesome summer activity would be to drive outside of the city and try to make my way through one of those corn mazes that they set up by the highway. I also know myself well enough to know that I would get frustrated with the whole thing about ten minutes in, and would end up throwing in the towel and just eating my way out.

The Jets- Rocket 2 U (1988)

Rocket 2 U was easily one of my favorite songs as a kid, because I was pretty into space and rockets and stuff in elementary school... I would later come to realize the song could be roughly translated to something along the lines of "Don't expect me to ever fix your shit, but I'll fuck you sore whenever you want".

Evelyn "Champagne" King- Out Of Control (1984)

Whenever I kick something on the ground, the same thing resounds in my head. "No baby birds no baby birds please no baby birds", because nine times out of ten, it is a goddamn baby bird.
I love the fact that we have enough clean air to support urban wildlife and all, but the dead baby bird situation in this city is truly out of control.

Shalamar- A Night to Remember (1982)

My partner works on a rotating schedule that often leaves me making my own dinner for weeks at a time, which means cheese and crackers (better known as 'chackers'), mixing diet sodas to create new, cancer-causing flavors, and, in one particularly regrettable instance, frog's legs from a sketchy Chinese Buffet. Now, truth be told, I could have been less adventurous and left the slimy legs steaming in the tray, as it appeared they had done for hours prior, but I'll tell you this much: you don't get a night to remember out of not eating the legs. Am I right, folks? Am I?

Alvin Fields- Special Delivery (1981)

I love Japanese food and all, but I will not eat sunomono salad or cone sushi in a restaurant.
These are "delivery only" dishes. 
You see, I just can't figure out how to eat the cone sushi gracefully, and as the sunomono,  I have always been confused as to whether you are supposed to drink the sweet vinegar dressing, or leave it in the bowl.
To leave the broth in a bowl of soup would be rude, and would signal a distaste in the dish (which, I assure you, is quite the opposite when it comes to refreshing Japanese salads).
The waiter comes by, and always asks if I am finished, and, not wanting to look like an uncultured dick, I am unsure of how to reply. "Uhhhh, I don't know? You tell me?"

Gwen McCrae- Keep The Fire Burning (1982)

This year, I turn 31, which, I believe, is the exact year I start getting birthday cards with a picture of a cake burning down an entire building.

Leroy Burgess- Stranger (1983)

Although they were played in multi-national campaigns to millions and millions of children, I am certain that nobody was affected by the scare-tactic PSA ads of the eighties as much as I.
If you would have asked me, at a mere seven years old, where my life was headed, I would tell you about the almost-certainty of an electrical fire, in which I would be expected to save my entire family from our burning house, along with the fact that I would be absconded and raised by a creepy stranger with a giant moustache and a beat-up van full of candy, puppies, and drugs (which, on second thought, might not have been so bad after all).