On AV Club today, the Friday Q&A centers around the staffers' first favorite songs. Most are pretty shitty, but can you really blame them? These are the inner workings of children, people, and more to the point, their parents' tastes.
My parents' musical oeuvres rested in two camps: Christian music and soft rock. So, predictably, my first favorite song came from one of those genres.
The year was 1992. I was 7. The song was Michael Bolton's "Steel Bars." Looking it up now, it's remarkable that this song even crossed my radar. It only reached a peak of number 7 on the Adult Contemporary chart, not even making it to the Billboard 100.
But for some reason, Q92.1 played the shit out of that song, and I loved it.
Of the 200 comments on YouTube, this one sums up this song the best:
"We were to have Love is a wonderful thing to play at our wedding but the button was pushed 1 to many times and this song was played instead. lol"
Later in my youth I would migrate towards the alt-rock abyss of Green Day and Better Than Ezra (1995, what!), but in 1992, Michael Bolton had my heart.
Comments are open for your faves.
(Below is a quick story I posted on my paper's blog about an incident that happened to me at a local middle school. It was stupid, kind of funny, and now the school administration is being brought into it, for some reason. ANYWAY, thought yeez would find it entertaining.
Not sure if this is the start of me blogging again more regularly, but maybe so.)
Quick story from Highland Park Middle School yesterday.
So I’m walking into the school at about 3:45 for a 2011-2012 budget work session, when I hear from over my shoulder “Hey mister, nice satchel!”
I immediately thought to myself, “Good call, 13-year-old girl. This is, in fact, a stylish leather shoulder briefcase that I received as a birthday present from my lovely fiance. I like it as well!”
My thought was shattered when one of her friends yelled to me, “(word often used, a.) in a derogatory way to describe a a gay man, b.) to describe a British cigarette, or c.) to describe a small pile of sticks).”
Now I’m not one to shy away from coarse language, as I’m sure anyone here at Park Cities People would attest. I use it too often, I admit. But this one struck me as a bit rough around the edges.
I talked to the girl who yelled “small pile of sticks” to me, who claimed she didn’t yell it at me. I believe she said, “I just yelled it.”
Look it. I was in middle school once too, child, and I know the tricks. Own up to it, though, and maybe we can all learn a lesson.
Or not. Jerks.
(Ed. note- One of her friends was wearing a killer Metallica “…And Justice For All” t-shirt, so I couldn’t be totally mad.)
In 1964, Lyndon Johnson needed pants, so he called the Haggar clothing company and asked for some. The call was recorded (like all White House calls at the time), and has since become the stuff of legend. Johnson’s anatomically specific directions to Mr. Haggar are some of the most intimate words we’ve ever heard from the mouth of a President.
Via Put This On