Song of the Week – A Blast From the Past

For this week’s song, I have chosen “Cover Girl,” by the New Kids on the Block.  As always, lyrics were pulled from LyricWiki:

I get up in the morning and I see your face, girl
You’re looking so good, everything’s in place
Don’t you know I could never leave your side girl
Won’t you stay here with me and be my bride?

Don’t you your my kind, your just what i like
Girl you’re everything, don’t you know you’re alright
The only girl I’ve always needed for so long

Chorus:
Oh, oh-oh, she’s my cover girl
Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh, oh-oh, she’s my cover girl
Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

When I look through the pages of a magazine
Still, your pretty face is the prettiest I’ve seen
Don’t you know I only want to be with you
No other girl could make me feel the way you do
You’re my everything

(Repeat Chorus twice)

It’s alright
Oh, yeah, it’s out of sight
Let me say it’s alright
Ah, yeah!

Don’t you know I only want to be with you
No other girl could make me feel the way you do
You’re my everything

If you watch this video (go ahead and watch, I won’t tell), go ahead and laugh.  Giggle at Donnie’s torn-up jeans; chuckle at Jon’s bright orange shirt; and keel over at Danny’s pimp tail.  But don’t laugh at me.  I watch this video and reminisce of better days.  Back when this video was all the rage, my biggest concern was beating the other girls at jacks and beating the boys at tetherball.  Or getting new pairs of aerobic socks, because the elasticity on my old socks had withered due to me rolling my jeans into my socks.  Or carrying a keychain with 1 key and 5 chains with various pictures of Jonathan Knight and the rest of the New Kids.  Or believing my Jonathan was straight and would whisk me away despite protests of pedophilia.

TGIF

When I think of TGIF, I unfortunately think of the ABC marketing of its Friday evening sit-coms in the 1980s and early 90s. You know what I’m talking about. The deadly combo of Full House and Family Matters (and also included Step by Step, Perfect Strangers, and Just the Ten of Us). I remember Uncle Jesse crooning with the Beach Boys and Steve Urkel pulling up his suspenders.  Which reminds me, I went to college with Urkel.  Actually had him in a history class, and he was a pretty good looking guy.  Although I couldn’t help but think–imagine hooking up with Urkel.  Take away the geeky glasses, the funky smile, and the pants up to the moobies, and what do you have?  Well, you still have Urkel and “Did I do that?” could lead to some memorable occasions in the bedroom.  I’m just saying.

Speaking of TGIF–whatever happened to Kimmy Gibler?

Banana Republic clothes are made for supermodels

Disclaimer: I am in no way suggesting that I am a supermodel. I am far from it. I eat cows, chickens, pigs, and fish. Hell, I’m Chinese/Taiwanese–I eat parts of that cow, chicken, pig, and fish that you didn’t know existed. I eat ice cream. I eat cookies. I box. I lift weights. And I don’t throw up voluntarily. Supermodel, I am not.

However, I do love Banana Republic. Their clothes are of relatively high quality, but I don’t vomit when I see the price tag (usually). However, I have come to the conclusion that their pants only fit women who are 6 feet tall. I’ve never received a pair of BR pants that don’t require alterations. Now I’m pretty tall for being a chick (5′ 8″ with my shoes on, thank you very much). But when I put on BR pants, I suddenly feel like I’m a 10-year old wearing mommy’s clothing and perhaps with a gangload of lipstick all over my face and curlers all up in my hair. Wait. That’s not me. That’s some movie I saw. I never did the wear mommy’s lipstick thing as a kid. Although, I did do the mini hair-bear thing. You know what I’m talking about–you were alive in the 80s (and if you weren’t, you suck and you make me feel old). I took the front part of my hair and made it go just high enough on my head to create a little wave. Kind of like this, but much tamer (since I have flat, straight Asian hair). Thank you Ms. Jackson, I think you’re nasty:

Then I sprayed a shit-load of 89 cent Aquanet all over that beauty until it crusted over. If anyone touched the wave, the Aquanet would flake off, creating a snowstorm of nasty, crusty, hair product. In fact, if anyone tells you they once saw snow in the California Bay Area in the late 80s or early 90s, that wasn’t snow. It was some pre-pubescent chick’s nasty ass wad of hair. Imagine that on a California holiday card. Just put a bunch of hair bear chicks in a treehouse. Plant the family underneath. Hair bear chicks shake their crusty scalps, and voila! It’s a White F*cking Christmas.

Anyways, I digress. I have to go to the tailor today to get my pants altered. Because supermodel, I am not.