This will be a fun post. It’s all because the CD player in my car has been misbehaving and skips with every tiny bump I hit. So I’ve been subjected to the radio.
While I enjoy talking about things I … enjoy, let’s talk about stuff I hate.
Bruno Mars. Who does he think he is? “Girl you’re amazing just the way you are.” “If perfect’s what your searching for than just say the same.” Did you get those lines from a Harlequin novel?
And further more: “I’d catch a grenade for you / … Yes, I would die for you, baby.” Okay but would you? Considering the entire chorus of the song is some masochistic proclamation of love, I don’t think it’s a figure of speech. You would literally stop in front of a speeding train for me, the hypothetical object of affection in your song.
I would not catch a grenade for Curtis. Do you know why? One, it would hurt. Two, I would get blown up, and splatter all over him. That’s just rude. Plus, if I was really catching a grenade for him, wouldn’t he be standing somewhere in the vicinity to also get blown up?
Rihanna and Eminem. Just stop. You’re strange, mixed messages about domestic violence are both confusing and disturbing. Additionally, the chorus of the song is annoying as snot, and I’d prefer not to hear it on the radio anymore.
B.O.B. and Hayley Williams. You two need to stop pretending that are planes are like shooting stars. How can something pretend to be LIKE something? If you’re pretending, you’re already creating that simile. Get it? Take that unnecessary “like” out. Oh, and get off of the radio.
Ke$ha. Okay, honestly, just keep doing what you’re doing. I can’t even pretend like I hate it. Pretend. Like.
Bruce Springsteen can write music. Just sayin’.
Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night / You ain’t a beauty, but hey, you’re all right.
See, Bruno? I’m still swooned by “Thunder Road” and I didn’t need to hear your fluffy lies.