Happy Birthday, Baby!

John Clayton Mayer, love of my life, you are the ripe age of 35 today. Well, yesterday, but I wrote this in my brain well before the clock struck midnight.

Not only are you a fox, like a "I'd let my head hit the bed withOUT your hand behind it" fox, but you have gotten me through every break-up in my entire 25 years. Without fail, you have released an album that exactly coincides with the particular brand of heartbreak I'm sipping at that precise moment. You saved me from a lot of dark nights.

A lot of people don't appreciate you, but you know I always will, baby. You're not too poppy like a lot of folks tend to say, despite that really fucking weird "Say" song you put out, but we all make mistakes. You're not the bad guy people make you out to be, because if anyone actually listened to songs like "I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You)," "My Stupid Mouth," or hell, even "Daughters," they would say "Oh, yeah, maybe that guy has some issues like we all do, but at least he's honest about them." Th'fuck's wrong with honesty?

Oh, and did I mention you play a mean guitar? CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE SHIT THAT GOES ON IN "OUT OF MY MIND?" IT IS UNPARALLELED, BABE. UNPARALLELED!

So thanks. Thanks for the mean pickin', the soulful singing. Thanks for "Room for Squares," then "Where the Light Is," then "Battle Studies," now "Born & Raised," and all the others in between. They all did, and still do, get me through the worst and the best moments of my life.

Oh, and how could I ever wish you the happiest of 35ths without mentioning the fateful night I climbed my way to your platform as you were playing "Why, Georgia?" I somehow eluded security and used the heads of two strange men as my stabilizers. I probably made sure the girls were lookin' mighty fine, and then I looked up, right into your eyes, BEGGING you to look at me. You scanned the crowd, looked into my eyes, kept moving, MY HEART WAS BROKEN, but then... then you did a damn DOUBLE-TAKE and stared at me as you sang "Everybody is just a stranger, but that's the danger in going my own way." And then you held that gaze until some floozy threw her bra at you, and we all laughed, me out of psychotic anger that my MOMENT, my time with you was gone.

That bitch. Still love you anyway, boo. THANKS FOR THE MUSIC!

You Know That Song?

It starts reluctantly in the back of your head. You fight it for a long time, maybe a reallllly long time until you have to admit to yourself what you've pretty much known all along:

That stupid, fucking cookie cutter pop song you have been talking mad shit about is so amazing it's like Angelina Jolie and God had a baby and put it inside your ears.

Sometimes you hear it on the radio a few too many times and look down one day to find yourself tapping your foot to the beat. Other times you look up the YouTube video to make fun of it and find an amazing video like this to end all things ever. Oh, and get you hooked on the song along the way:

I have hated this song since I previewed it on iTunes in a total music snob move. "I'M GONNA MAKE FUN OF ALL THESE ASSHOLES THAT MADE THIS SONG NUMBER TWO!!!! HAHAHAHA, THEY'RE SO FUNNY, THOSE SHEEP!!!!!"

Yeah, well, now I have to crawl back inside my shame cave, 'cause I just dropped a dollar ninety-nine on that same song. I'll be back out when I've listened to "Call Me Maybe" approximately 87 times and learned enough of the lyrics to mumble along the next time some drunk sorostitute plays it at the bar.

I used to be able to resist the call of tweeny ladies and gents and their moronic songs, but as I get older, I find it harder to put up a fight.

"Yoü and I?" Fuck it, I guess I'll rescind my statement that all of Lady Gaga's sophomore album was a pile of steaming garbage and rock out inside my car. "We Found Love?" That's fine, I'll listen to it every day even though I really honestly DON'T like Rihanna's voice and that bitch gets on my nerves, but oh SHIT, I guess I like that "S&M" song, too, what is wrong with me?!?!

I shall retire my last semblance of music pretention and donate it to someone who deserves it. This gal is a shameless mainstream sheep. At least I'll be cozy (and look fabulous) in my wool.

What are your guilty pleasure tunes?

Don't Take a Slice of My Pie

I'm awake with horrid heart palpitations, commentating on/watching "Pretty in Pink" for like the 50th time in two weeks. Now's as good a time as ever to blog.

I made yesterday my prison girlfriend, despite waking up late. I said I was gonna clean (and did), but I also applied for approximately seven jobs and taught myself the intro bass line to "Money" on my sister's electric.

You might not be impressed, especially with that jackass face I'm making, but I don't know anything about guitars other than that I love it when other people play them well. This was a big victory. HUGE!

Gotta keep the momentum up. Today I'm gonna go to a law school graduation cookout for one of my oldest friends. All of my other oldest friends will be there, too. Should be a swingin' shindig worthy of gonna status and then some.

If you want to give me some gonnas to do, or even just chat, email me at:

imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com