What a Girl Wants

What a Girl Needs

What a Girl Wants Lyrics
Artist(Band): Christina Aguilera

I got something for you what
close your eyes wont you want girl needs what girl wants
What a girl needs
What a girl wants
What a girl needs

Yeah come on

I wanna thank you for giving me time to breathe
Like a rock you waited so patiently
While I got it together
While I figured it out
I only looked but I never touched
‘Cause in my heart was a picture of us
Holdin’ hands, makin’ plans and it’s lucky for me you understand

[Chorus]:
What a girl wants
What a girl needs
Whatever makes me happy sets you free
And I’m thanking you for knowing exactly
What a girl wants
What a girl needs
Whatever keeps me in your arms
And I’m thanking you for giving it to me

(psst! guys, quit dialing that number; it’s a parody!)

This is not my idea of a hedonistic pleasure, cleaning the whole house in preparation for company. However, Jen has a special friend she’s bringing with her weekend and I don’t want him to think I’m one of those obsessive-compulsive cat ladies. Right now everything in this house is “out” for assessment and reorganization and my GOD I hoard way too much shit for a lady who bought a house with no basement, no garage, and no attic . . . because she didn’t want to turn into one of those ladies who hoard too much shit!

Maybe I’ll put on something sexy, turn on the funk and dance around to make it a little more interesting . . . on one foot? OK maybe not. But I’m doing the rest, dammit, because this day is not allowed to be boring.

I love Beyonce. I love her voice, I love her style. The hair even works. And I want that dress. And those shoes, and the kittyprint coat, and throw in the plane while you’re at it.

But Beyonce dear, obviously your friends are clueless so the Hedonistic Pleasureseeker will pinch hit for them: Sometimes a girl needs to fire her stylist AND her choreographer and hire professionals able and willing to teach her some grace.

Honey, it’s time. Slow down. If it doesn’t look good when you mark it, it doesn’t look good period. Come on Beyonce, you’re a woman and a squillionaire: Ratchet it up! For that last piece on this video you even forgot your costume! What were you thinking? Why didn’t someone SAY something? Worse, your underwear is ripped to shreds. Is it a cry for help? That’s it, I’m calling your mom.

Turbulence is life force. It is opportunity. Let’s love turbulence and use it for change. Ramsay Clark

REVOLUTION

BY

KIRK FRANKLIN

SICK AND TIRED OF MY BROTHAS KILLING EACH OTHER,
SICK AND TIRED OF DADDIES LEAVIN’ BABIES WITH THEIR MOTHERS.
TO EVERY MAN WHO WANTS TO LAY AROUND AND PLAY AROUND,
LISTEN PARTNER, YOU SHOULD BE MAN ENOUGH TO STAY AROUND.
SICK AND TIRED OF THE CHURCH TALKIN’ RELIGION AND,
YET, THEY TALK ABOUT EACH OTHER, MAKIN’ DECISIONS.
NO MORE RACISM! TWO-FACISM! NO POLLUTION! THE SOLUTION?
A REVOLUTION!

[CHORUS]
OH OH OH OH OH OH OOOOOH OOOOH
DO YOU WANT A REVOLUTION?!
WHOO, WHOO!
SAY DO YOU WANT A REVOLUTION?!
WHOO, WHOO!
COME ON!

NO CRIME! NO DYING! POLITICIANS LYING, EVERYBODY’S TRYING
TO MAKE A DOLLAR IT MAKES ME WANNA HOLLER. THE WAY THEY DO MY LIFE,
THEY WAY THEY DO MY LIFE. THERE’S GONNA BE A BRIGHTER DAY
ALL YOUR TROUBLES WILL PASS AWAY.
A REVOLUTION’S COMIN, YES IT’S COMIN, COMIN’.
REVOLUTION’S COMIN. YES IT’S COMIN, REVOLUTION’S COMIN’ COMIN.

Watch this one to the end to see his finale!

Cosmo likes rap!

Hobbes is a conductor: Here he is directing Carmina Burana, my favorite cantada. The really good stuff starts at 2:30

It’s my Friday off! Time to dance with the cats again! Do you think I’ll be able to get my felines out of bed? I swear this is their favorite thing to do besides wrestling over the best sunbeams: Sleep on my bed, sometimes fighting over the prime real estate. They even get pissed off when I don’t trundle up to bed by 10pm: They hop on my bed at about 9:30, assume their positions in their negotiated places, and wait. And wait. If I do not join them in a timely fashion Gabby is elected Ambassador and comes downstairs to bitch. If that doesn’t work Chase joins her. Then Lily will come downstairs and all three of them will stand behind me, watching me peck away at my computer. If I look at them they MEOW really loud, like “It’s bed time WTF????”

My first two cats, Allistaire and MacKenzie, used to wake me up in the mornings to beg for their breakfasts, but sadly they’ve both gone to Kitty Heaven. My new felines don’t wake me up; in fact I could sleep all day for all they care. Timing is not important to them: Gabby eats out of all three dishes and howls all day for food, and that’s why she’s FAT. Beefy Chase and little squirt Lily don’t seem to care, and that’s why they’re not. Would you believe they have such distinctive personalities that I can tell them apart in the dark?

Scorpio says he’s more wrecked from this weekend than I am but I don’t think that’s possible. It was the last weekend at the Jersey shore so we made the most out of it. Don’t expect much from me tomorrow . . .

If I were a Toon I would definitely be Jessica Rabbitt! I definitely have her character: Seductive and resourceful, unafraid of venturing into the traditionally male realm. I used to be a nightclub performer. I have the same disarming affect on people in the sense that they usually get a completely wrong idea about me at first. It used to hurt my feelings but these days I exploit it. After all, sometimes playing dumb and/or innocent and/or flirtatious is the only reasonable and/or accepted way to extract oneself from a situation . . . or get away with the seemingly impossible . . .

As does Jessica I value character, brains and humor over physical assets. I even sorta look like a human version of her, rather like these ladies, only shorter and more fleshy:

As you may ascertain on your own: PHOTOSHOP!

So I leave you this evening to my new Avatar: Ms. Jessica Rabbitt singing her song:

For what it’s worth I’m not exactly thrilled by the Patriarchal Master Plan to turn every last woman on this planet into a purchasable commodity (poledancer, stripper, lapdancer, escort, prostitute, mistress, wife, mommy, nurse) but DAMN! I’m impressed by this poledancing woman! I’d crack my head open if I tried that, and if I were there I’d give her money! To pay for more dance lessons, of course.

I am firewalled from YouTube at the office, thank God/dess, or I would spend all day looking at pole dancing videos like this one:

It’s my first party! Actually not really if you count my family, but this is the first time I’ve hosted a social gathering of non-relatives since I moved into my town home. Being so solitary this is a very big deal for me.

The theme? Retro Slumber Party! My posse - hey Sadie if you’re feeling better you’re invited! I’ll call you! You call me! - will be wearing their fancy pajamas, you know, the pretty lacy negligees and peignoirs they never wear because they’re too nice or too frilly or what have you. Old school boudoir! The women who don’t have fancy nightgowns get to raid my lingerie closet. I’ll probably be wearing this:

While working my Google Magic I discovered I might actually be in fashion, as it seems women all over the country are having slumber parties as alternatives to “Girls’ Night Out.” What’s not to like? No one drives so we can party as hard or as late as we want, and the food is better than any restaurants we’d otherwise end up at. There are no men, no police, no bouncers, no maitre d’s, and no arbiters of taste. We can let our hair down and do what we want. Plus, the booze is cheap! We’ll be doing champagne (thanks Jen!) and shots. Yes shots. Jello shots, frozen shots . . . did I mention it’s going to be a sleepover?

Now guys, I know what you’re thinking: All these drunk women in their lingerie and their bawdy girl talk and you want an invitation, right? I can see what you’re imagining now:

Sorry guys, I hate to break it to you but it will probably look something like this instead:

Stay tuned for the details! The bar is stocked, the house is clean, and the food ingredients are prepped! It should be a good time!

I love boobies! VJ said something about watching them dance in the other booby thread and sure enough they are all over YouTube. Above is a fine set of boobies! I think they’re showing off their feet!

This next one is only eight seconds long but it shows how bright blue their feet are. Most of the other footage is old and faded:

Time for a little musical accompaniment. “Blue Suede Shoes” or “Free Bird?” You decide! The Free Bird video has just under three minutes of bird info but the whole song plays for the full nine minutes (HPS rolls eyes).

Attack of the Boobies!!! GAHHHHH!!!!! Thousands of them! Watch them dive into the water; they do look like little bombs!

The grand finale: Birds in love! Here are a few species of Galapagos Island birds and their public displays of affection. Enjoy!

I’ve finally FOUND IT! The YouTube video that perfectly explains why I have absolutely ZERO nostalgia for my high school and college days: The Solid Gold Dancers! Hear the utterly un-danceable music. Watch mediocre dancers in dorky costumes try to dance to it anyway. Observe the complete lack of rhythm. Need I say more?

Even Prince, whose music I love, makes me cringe sometimes. He’s a home boy: My ex-brother-in-law used to beat him up in high school, no I’m serious. Prince had the most GAWDAWFUL fashion sense. Just look at the purple sparkly coat and the ruffled jabot on this guy! I can’t find a photograph of him in his “ass pants,” sorry. Let’s just say they were . . . cringeworthy.

Men wore makeup in the 1980’s, which was fine with me, but today I find it amusing that here it is the early 21st century and makeup on a man is unthinkable now. This was the look of the New Romantics. Think Adam Ant and Duran Duran. They wore more makeup and spent more time on their hair than I did!

(Duran Duran)

Then there was Death rock. The nihilistic Goth rock. Glam rock. Grunge Rock. I didn’t like any of it, and we weren’t allowed to play it in the house anyway.

(The cast of Dynasty)

For television we had Dynasty, Dallas, Knot’s Landing, Dukes of Hazard, Charlie’s Angels. My sister and I were never allowed to watch any of it. I suppose it’s just as well: To this day I still don’t know who shot JR, and I’ve not lost any sleep over it.

(Bon Jovi)

The official haircut for men was the mullet. Women had Mall Hair. We actually had this phenomenon called the “Hair Band.” It was all about the hair. It seems everyone had a perm and used hair mousse. We had these huge wide-toothed combs we proudly displayed in the back pockets of our (acid washed) jeans. We combed our hair often, bending over at the waist with our heads down, foofing it all up before we froze it with hairspray. Men were as vain about their hair as women were.

(Bananarama)

For fashion we had the Flashdance “just raped look” (torn clothing, wild hair, black eye makeup that made us look like racoons), high heels with leggings, and jackets with frickin’ HUGE shoulder pads. Madonna (the singer, not the mother of God) was our fashion icon and we teased our hair high and wore fingerless lace gloves andlace anklets with spike heels to emulate her. We wore terrycloth headbands and leg warmers. In public. Men wore spandex pants or parachute pants with tight t-shirts. Yes, it all looked as dorky as it sounds.

Supposedly, 80’s fashions are back in style. Whose idea was that? WTF????? Hey, I have an idea! Let’s just not, and say we did! Except for the tunics over leggings. Nearly everyone in the U.S. seems to be losing their waistlines these days and a tunic will comfortably cover all of our poochy American flesh. The young and/or skinny girls can wear them too!

Just skip the shoulder pads. Please.

Folks, this costume is Old School! Turkish, I believe. I need to change the top; it’s too big, and I’m not sure it’s as flattering to my body type as it could be. What to do? Should I keep the belly fringe or lop it off? Or use it somewhere else? Any fashion advisors out there?

(Psst! Happy HNT!)

Eat your hearts out: This fine lady is in her 70’s! Morocco is the Founder/Director of the Academy of Mid-Eastern Dance in NYC and my all-time favorite teacher. If you want authentic Egyptian dance, go see her! I performed with her and her protege Tarik at my last gig before I retired my finger cymbals. I’m posting this here not only because I love her work, but because I learned this choreography from her a few years ago and don’t want to forget it. Fantastic!

Funny thing though: I’ve performed at the Lafayette but here I don’t even recognize it anymore. Weird.

By the way, Morocco’s protege Tarik is a DUDE. Yes! Check it!

Anyway, this should be all you need to know that although you might THINK, “Oh I’m too old to be a professional dancer, you’re probably NOT. You’re probably not too infirm to dance, either. Do you doubt me? Check THIS out: