Trickin' Bitches with a Bad-Ass Beat

My mother confuses the songs “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen and “Broken Hearted” by Karmin.  Yeah, I know you probably don’t recognize the second song either.  I had to type some of the lyrics into Google in order to figure out the name of the song and artist.  Basically, I would say she’s a Katy Perry wannabe.  Regardless, any time that either one of these songs comes on, my mom says, “Sick. Sick.  This song is so dirty.”  She’s talking about the second song.  I always correct her when it’s really Carly, but she still continues, “Do you hear her?  Anything you want to do, I’ll be on it too.  Business in the front, party in the back.  Do you know what she’s singing about?”  Then she has to tell me, as if I’ve forgotten since two days ago when she said the same damn thing, “Anal sex.  That’s dirty.” 

“Yeah, mom, there’s a lot of dirty songs on the radio now,” I told her today.  For whatever reason, I actually decided to engage in this conversation with her this time.  Then I asked her if she remembered when my niece, and her granddaughter, was walking around a few years ago singing Ke$ha, “I don’t need your Mercedes Benz or your drunk-ass friends.  Get sleazy. Get sleazy.”  She was six.  Then I said that she probably should not be allowed to listen to Rihanna either as last summer she was in the kiddie pool in my back yard, singing out “Sex in the air baby, I love the smell of it” from Rihanna’s hit song “S&M.”

 

My sister said, “Oh, she doesn’t know the lyrics. You’re lying.” But, oh, yes, she does – and that girl is bound to be a fucking nightmare as a teenager.  So, this was my initial thought.  But then I considered it a little more, (you know – because that’s how I do) and then told my mother, “You know.  We worry about these songs having a negative impact on youth.  But, can lyrics really affect your individual character?  I mean, I remember being fourteen years old and singing loudly along to my Nine Inch Nails CD and the song ‘Closer.’ I screeched ‘I wanna fuck you like an animal,’ but that didn’t make me want to be a whore.  I was still a virgin.  It’s just a song.”

I had gone all contemplative on her ass (because – you know – that’s how I do), but she just said, “Yeah, but that’s a fucking good song, Angela.”  I agreed with her, and then she continued, “And you know, at least Trent Reznor was just honest with that shit, and said it like it is.  He wasn’t trying to disguise something dirty with ‘party in the back.’” 

Alright.  I’ll give her that much.  Then, she continued, “Have you heard this new whistling song on the radio?”  I knew what she meant, because we get each other, so I said, “Oh yeah. ‘Whistle’ by Flo Rida.  I actually like that song.  It’s funny and it has a catchy beat.” 

“It’s not funny,” she returned, “it’s filthy.”  To this complaint, she added, “And the problem is that you’re right – it is super catchy.  It has a great beat, but it fools you.  The other day I was just whistling along to that song in the kitchen while the radio was on, and then I realized – ‘Oh My God!  I’m whistling along and bobbing my head to a song about blow jobs.’  They shouldn’t try to trick you like that.” 

Do you hear that Flo Rida?  Please change the title of your song from “Whistle” to “Suck my Dick.”  Keep that shit real, Flo Rida.  Don’t be trying to trick bitches with a bad-ass beat.

 

 

Oh Flo Rida -- Quit Foolin' My Mom!